#It's part of the accent but not doing it doesn't change the meaning of the word in most cases

[serpentface]

Comparing livestock color-words.

Both the Chenahyeigi and Wardi languages are derived from peoples who have been pastoralists for millennia, and both have an absolute ton of words for livestock coloration.

Both languages have had at least some mutual influence for about a thousand years (to varying extents by dialect, depending on geography/trade connection) so you'll see similar or identical words crop up here and there.

THE WORDS:

Hneya - [hne:ʝɑ] or [hne:jɑ] (whether the ʝ sound is retained in speech and to what extent varies by dialect)

Straightforwardly refers to bright reddish-orange color, but is mostly used for animals rather than other orangeish things. The word Was probably influenced by an older form of the Wardi 'reyla', and absorbed with the introduction of orange colored cattle. It may have been merged with the Chenahyeigi '(h)ne', which is the root of several red color-related terms.

Reyla - [rejlɑ]

This is a Wardi word for most reddish-orange hues in general. When applied to livestock, it refers to solid orange coats without spotting/masks/notable countershading.

Fels akhri - [fels] [ɑ:khɾi]

Translates readily as 'storm cloud' (the 'storm' here specifies thunderstorms). When applied to livestock, it describes fur that is rich dark blue-gray with white guard hairs.

Aganne - [ɑgɑ:ne]

This doesn't actually translate to 'night sea' in a straightforward manner, but as a color word it's poetically associated with dark seas, at night or in storms. When used for livestock, it describes this coloration exclusively.

Woud et lleng - [woʊd] [ɛt] [ɬeŋk]

Woud is the word for rich moist soil specifically, lleng refers to laterite and its association with iron deposits. This phrase is used to describe livestock with dark brown heads and and orange-brown bodies.

Tsipanibe - [t͡sipɑnibe]

This would be more literally translated as 'ochred'. Many Wardi words with the -ibe stem from verbs or nouns modified to indicate that the subject matter has 'received' an action or concept. (Examples of such words are long-established linguistically, you can't just add '-ibe' to any noun or verb). This one takes the root 'tsipan' (ochre) and applies it to the subject matter (cattle coloration).

Livestock with a dark brown or black head and orange-brown body are given this description, the idea being that their bodies look like they've been painted in ochre. This word is extremely rare outside of this context (you would usually just say the full 'ochre-painted' to convey this idea for other things)

Drengh yipeg - [dɾeŋg(h) yɪpɛ:g]

This is pretty straightforwardly 'little moon'. Yipeg comes from the same root as the Wardi 'hippe' for 'small', while drengh refers to the appearance of the moons in the sky (rather than the gods they embody). It's used to describe small round white blaze marks.

Ipalen hamita - [ipɑlɛn (h)ɑmitə]

Straightforwardly 'star marked', used for small round white blaze marks. Wardi actually does have a 'moon marked' (ipalen amit) to describe round white blazes that entirely cover the animal's forehead.

Brinyavir - [bɾi:nʝɑvir] (ʝ is retained for this word in most dialects)

This one is not directly translatable, 'celestial' or 'heavenly' just function closely enough. The word conceptually relates to stars but most specifically describes a layer of sky in which the afterlife rests (brinyavir is part of the phrase I translate as 'celestial fields'). The cattle there are said to have these markings. The stars in the night sky are sometimes playfully described as the spots of these cattle (though not literally, in Chenahyeigi cosmology stars are spirit-inhabited bonfires lit along pathways through the heavens).

As a color word for livestock, brinyavir refers to this rare (I Think nonexistent irl) white-spotted black coloration, due to both resembling the stars and the cattle that are moved among them.

Asi inwetadi - [ɑsi in:wetɑ:di]

This directly means 'like night sky', and is applied to this coat pattern with a similar underlying logic- it looks like a starry night sky. You will often see asi (like/akin to) retained in place or animal names like this, and it is sometimes part of names for people (the name Asinya is derived from a contracted 'like the sun').

Ogriye - Chenahyeigi: [oʊ:gɾije] Wardi: [oʊgɾi:je]

This word is (or was) a way to say 'gravel' or 'gravelly' in both Chenahyeigi and Wardi, and is pronounced very similarly in both (with the only significant difference being emphasis)

In Chenahyeigi it is a loanword from the Wardi language family, most likely received in the exchange of cattle of this coloration. It is retained in general speech as a word for gravel, more specifically the adjective 'gravelly'.

The word is mostly obsolete in contemporary Wardi, speakers do not know it used to mean 'gravel' (though it sounds close enough to assume a connection, the word is 'ogri') and exclusively use it to describe this livestock coloration (one of the more common among Wardi native cattle).

---

Also here's some cow lore.

There's some fairly tremendous diversity in Wardi cattle herds, given they have genetic influence from at least two separate aurochs domestication events (also distant and negligibly minor influence from one instance of bison domestication) and from multiple relatively isolated domestic cattle populations. Present day herds within Wardi provincial territory near-ubiquitously have at least some ancestry from the kulustaig and the Burri tepang cattle.

The ancestors of the Wardi native cow have been in the region for at Least 5,000 years. Burri cattle Possibly could have had tiny, isolated introductions between 2500-3000 years ago (this is extremely unlikely, but maize Was probably introduced by seafaring proto-Burri peoples at this time) or at more recent points since, and the tepang was certainly introduced during Imperial Burri occupation. High quality cattle are also occasionally received in diplomacy with the present-day Different Entity that is the Burri Republic. The kulustaig cattle arrived with proto-Finnic migrants starting 1500 years ago, and is the biggest external genetic influence on Wardi herds. Small populations of Yuroma native cattle arrived with migrants 540 years ago, though these have been wholly absorbed into Wardi herds, with their biggest trace being genes for naturally polled horns. Some Finn cattle were extracted in the recent two decades of Wardi occupation, though not enough to have a noteworthy genetic impact on any herds.

Most of the cattle in this post show predominantly Wardi native cattle + kulustaig ancestry (this takes place in the Ephenni riverlands, where the ancestry of herds tends to be around 2:1). The one with the blaze has a delicate sloping muzzle that suggests Burri tepang ancestry, and also likely has a wild aurochs grandparent (the white ring around the nose is a telltale sign, as it usually vanishes within a few generations of introgression).

Diversity in color and coat pattern is culturally favored for Wardi cattle herds, and selective breeding for aesthetics is usually limited to the purpose of preserving unique coats. The average herd tends to be very colorful, though the one shown here is a bit of an outlier, the universe having mysteriously put in place perfect conditions to compare the words for a variety of coat patterns.

[angrythingstarlight]

How would Bucky react if Bee came home one day and had a bouquet of flowers that one of the PTA dads gave her for Malyshka? 👀

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumbleebee

Word Count: Drabble

A/N: Written on my phone, unbeta'd. Part of the bumblebee series.

Bucky carefully takes the flowers from Bumblebee's hands, his affable grin sliding off his face when he stands up, towering over you.

"Who gave you these?" His voice is deceptively calm, in stark dichotomy with the storm brewing in his keen blue eyes. His darkening gaze sends a shiver down your spine and it takes every ounce of your willpower to suppress your smile. This is probably not the best time to tease your mobster. Bucky knows the answer without even glancing at the card attached to the bouquet, he merely wants confirmation.

"Bucky," you stretch out his name, wrapping an arm around his neck, going on your tiptoes, you smooth the lines forming between his furrowed brows with a light touch. "I barely remember the guy. Chris something I think. It's not important."

"I remembers Mommy. Mr. Cole gave 'em to you and remembers how he—" Bee states a little too helpfully, squishing a stray lavender petal in her palm, blissfully unaware of what she started when she skipped in the house straight to Bucky to show him Cole's flowers."—he wanna touch your butts. You remembers?"

Don't laugh. Don't laugh.

"Thank you, Bumblebee." Bucky sees your lips twitch and a dark, menacing glint creeps over his bearded face. God, he's sexy when he gets like this. One day you'll figure out why that particular look makes your knees weak.

"You welcome, Papa," she sings out. Done with her part in this fiasco, she heads off to her playroom, leaving you alone with Bucky.

"Oh Cole. Right. That one. Yeah, they might be from him," you admit.

"Cole Turner. Farmer. Divorced father of two. Works upstate. Asthmatic." His gaze flicks to the flowers crumbling in his grasp. "Cheap."

Bucky knows all about the farmer, ever since the man first flirted with you. Bucky's been biding his time, content to let you handle him.

Until now.

If the way he's crushing the stems in his large tattooed hand or the way his heady gaze pins you in place wasn't enough to reveal how your mobster feels about another man giving you flowers, his accent slipping out as he lists off what he knows, says more than his words ever could.

Oh, he's furious.

And jealous.

It's not a bad look on him. You glance down and see the veins along the back of his hand, your eyes trailing up to his thick bicep barely contained by his tailored suit, and over to his face just in time to catch his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not bad at all.

Still, you can't let him hurt the asthmatic farmer even if Cole can't take a hint.

"James, whatever you're thinking, the answer is no." You clutch the sides of his jaw, making him look down at you. "I don't care about the flowers. Or what's his name. I love you." His expression doesn't change but you see his eyes soften. Pulling him down, your lips brush over his ear as you whisper. "I only want you. No one else. And if you agree to leave him alone, I'll show you how much you mean to me."

He knows that and he trusts you. He's not concerned about that. Bucky believes you're fucking irresistible and he can't blame other men for wanting you as badly as he does. Actually, he can and he will. Bucky drops the flowers and takes your face in his hands, his warm palms brush over your cheeks as he tilts your head back. "I'm going to need a lot of convincing Malyshka. It's going to take all night."

"Promise you're not going to do anything to him."

"I won't hurt him," Bucky offers with a casual shrug.

"Bucky."

"That's the best I can do. And Malyshka, you should be focused on how you're going to handle all the things I'm about to do to you." A smirk pulls at his lips and his unrelenting gaze skates over you in one smooth pass. His voice deepens, the sound vibrating over your skin as his lips find the side of your throat. "Remember what happened the last time you promised to make me feel better?"

Oh.

"I--"

"Don't worry, I'm about to remind you."

The following Monday.

You're dropping Bee off when you overhear Keaton talking to another mother. "We'll need someone to cover Cole's snacks for the rest of the year. I can't believe he up and left like that."

Your eyes widen as you subtly glance over your shoulder, listening carefully while taking Bee's little backpack off.

"What happened?"

Bucky what did you do? Without being too obvious, you take a step closer to the gossiping duo, their voices carrying over the sounds of the classroom.

"Apparently he just inherited a house in D.C. He told Kristen that it was left to him by some uncle but one of the conditions is he has to live there for ten years to keep it," she states, picking her keys off the desk. "And get this, right after he finds out about the place, I'm talking two seconds after he hangs up with the lawyer, he gets an offer to take over some vendor that's a mile or two from his new place but they wanted him to start immediately. So he...." Her voice starts to fade as she strolls down the hallway.

No, he didn't. Laughter spills out, you slap your hand over your mouth to conceal the sound and wave goodbye to Bee. You spend the entire walk back to the car teetering between amusement and astonishment.

Bucky's waiting for you, leaning against the side of the car. A gorgeous, colorful bouquet of flowers in his hand. But it's the smug grin on his face that has your attention. He doesn't have an ounce of shame in him and you both know he'll do it again.

"You're ridiculous, you know that right?" You say, taking the flowers from his hand. That cocky grin of his widens as he opens the door for you. "And insane."

"Only when it comes to you."

[malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy]

Potions Partner

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Strong language, some bullying

Word Count: 4268

Summary: Fem!Reader is Draco's Potions partner and has struck his fancy. The catch? The feelings are not mutual. Draco is determined to change that.

Author's Note: This is a slow burn.

Reader's Point Of View:

Draco, my so-called Potions partner is sitting next to me- not paying attention as per usual. Apparently his conversation with Crabbe and Goyle can't wait until class is dismissed. In a lull in conversation, Draco glances over at me, acknowledging my presence for the first time ever.

"Oi, girl." He says, turning his full attention to me.

I look up from my notes to him. "What?" I'm already annoyed I turned in our essay that was supposed to be a team effort to Professor Snape. The only part Draco contributed to it was writing his name on the corner under mine.

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "Just making sure you're not too busy trying to understand something too complicated for someone like you."

"Oh how thoughtful of you." I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. his smirk widens at my response, genuinely finding amusement in bothering me.

"You find yourself to be clever, yeah? Talking to me like that."

"Like what, then?"

"Sassy. It's rather cute that you think you're just going to get away with that."

I give him an unimpressed look before promptly looking back at my notes, trying to tune into Snape's lecture again. Finally, the trio falls into silence after Snape gives them a very heavy glare. That doesn't shake Draco enough to leave me be. I feel his eyes on me just about the entire lecture- not taking any notes of his own.

I turn my body away from him so he can only see the back of my robes- feeling annoyed and slightly self-conscious.

After a few minutes, Snape dismisses class and I gather all my things and haul out of the classroom, walking quickly through the crowd of students. Draco catches up with me, matching my pace as I walk. Does this guy really not have anything else better to do?

"You know, every girl in this school would drop their knickers for me- why are you acting like you're better than any of them?" He says, clearly taking an ego hit with my lack of interest. I let out a laugh of disbelief. "Do you actually believe that? I mean you actually believe that most girls want to 'drop their knickers' for you?" I say, mimicking his accent when I repeat his repulsive comment. His smirk returns full force.

"Without a doubt. I could have any girl in this school. Hell, I could have half the professors, too." He says arrogantly, watching me intently for my reaction.

"Oh! Professors as well? Wow! You're really something." I say, voice mocking. His eyes slightly narrow at my tone.

"I bet you're jealous you're not one of the girls I want."

"More like I'm not one of the girls you can have." I look at him, small smirk forming.

"You're not even pretty." He says, testing my reaction. I bet he expects me to wilt like a flower.

"No? Pity. I so badly wanted to be called pretty by someone like you." I say sarcastically. His smirk widens as if he's enjoying someone pushing back to his insults.

"You're rather ugly." He says, waiting for me to snap back to him.

"Ugly? How will I ever bounce back from this heart-breaking insult? I am SO wounded." I say, keeping my sarcastic tone. He laughs softly before he covers it with his usual smirk.

"You're a bloke repellant. I mean, look at you. You have no tits or ass." He adds, clearly trying to offend me.

"Oh, you've been looking, then?" I stop us mid-walk and turn to look at him fully. A challenge. His eyes widen briefly, caught off guard by my quick comeback.

"You know what I mean." He runs his gaze over me deliberately this time. "You have no redeeming qualities." I watch his eyes carefully, smugly noticing that he's checking me out under the guise of judgement.

"You say that but your eyes lingered a little longer than they should've."

"Fuck off." He says gruffly, turning away to hide his face.

"You started this. I'm just finishing it. I always finish what I start." I say, wanting to throw him off with an unexpected innuendo to catch his reaction. He slowly turns back, his smirk back in place.

"You shouldn't talk like that." His voice drops lower. "It makes a bloke think things."

"I'm not in charge of the innerworkings of a man's mind." I give him a once over. "Besides. I don't know why you're hassling me about my looks. You have no room to talk." He laughs genuinely, seemingly unphased.

"At least I have a dick." He says, trying to shock me but I spy his hands slightly shaking at my newfound confidence. "You probably don't even know what one looks like."

"A dick? What's that?" I pretend to be confused.

He stares at me for a moment, speechless. Then, he bursts out laughing- loud and uninhibited.

"You're fucking with me right now." He says between chuckles.

"Obviously." I say, confident and standing tall.

He shakes his head as he stop laughing, keeping a smile on his face. He takes a step closer.

"You know what would really fuck with me right now?"

"I have a feeling you'll tell me even if I don't ask."

"Smartarse." His blue eyes hold mine intently. "I'd be really fucked right now if you just.. for once.. stop being such a clever fucking witch and just admit you find me attractive." His voice is barely above a whisper, and I spy a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. I knew he cared about my opinion even though he acts like he's unbothered by anything. I pretend to be thoughtful for few moments.

"Hm. No."

His face breaks into a grin, clearly amused by my denial.

"You're seriously telling me that I'm standing here practically begging you to admit I turn you on..."

I smirk. "I rather like a begging man." I say, pleased I have the upper hand now. He stares at me for a moment, shocked again by my direct approach.

"Fuck, you're infuriating." He says with a low chuckle, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Oh, yeah?" I tilt my head to the side, smirk in place.

He steps even closer, his voice challenging. He wants to push me. I bet he wonders how far he can go before I actually snap or give in. "You know what your problem is?"

"I drive men wild with my charm?"

His eyes flicker down to my lips briefly before meeting my gaze again. He smirks, his voice low and seductive "No, your problem is you have no idea how attractive you are when you're being a sassy little bitch."

"Attractive?" I remark with a smirk. He watches me for a second, an amused grin taking over his face.

"Shut up."

"No, I don't think I will." I shift slightly, popping my hip out and crossing my arms. I know exactly what I'm doing. He's going to eat his words and regret he ever made any sort of sexist comment about my appearance. His eyes flick down to my hip, taking in the newfound curves it gives me.

"Stop moving like that." He says, trying to look annoyed but his eyes betray him. He finds me attractive whether he admits it to himself or not.

"Or what?" I say, holding his gaze, eyebrow raised. This was his last straw.

His hand reaches out and grabs me by my hips, pulling me flush against him. "Or I might just have to show you exactly what your smart mouth and sassy attitude do to me." I chuckle. I win.

"You're trouble, and not the fun kind." I say, pulling slightly back- I'm not that easy to get. I feel his fingers dig into my hip slightly, holding me in place. He leans down, his face inches from mine.

"You're the kind of girl that every bloke wants but wouldn't dare try. Too hard to get. Too much hassel."

"But you're not like most guys- are you?" I smirk up at him, pleased I have him in my web now. His grip on my hip tightens as he smirks back, his voice a low growl.

"No. I actually have the balls to go after what I want."

"What is it that you want?"

He releases my hip suddenly, his hands coming to frame my face as he backs me against the wall. "I want you. Your mouth, your attitude... I want to see if you're as fiery in bed as you are out of it." He pauses, face inches from mine. I nearly laugh out loud. As if he think it'll be that easy.

"Not going to happen." I smirk, looking over his features. "I like how boldly you declared that though."

His expression turns embarrassed at my rejection but he quickly covers it with anger. He steps back, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Fine. Keep acting like you're too good for me, then." He turns to leave but pauses at the door, looking back over his shoulder.

"Something to add?" I say, amused at his ego hit. He needed to be taken down several notches.

"You're so busy being the 'unattainable girl' that you miss out on having any fun." He smirks mirthlessly. "I can have anyone I want. At least those girls know how to act on their desires. They're not stuck up like you." With that parting shot, he storms out of the room.

"Wow. Good insult." I say sarcastically, laughing slightly as I adjust my skirt. "Drama king."

ONE WEEK LATER

Over this last week, Draco has started a subtle campaign of flirtation and teasing me, testing the waters to see if I'll react. He's constantly finding moments alone with me to drop hints or remarks. In between classes, during study hall, even through the dark hallways at night. He's persistent, I'll give him that.

Feeling like I'm falling behind in Potions due to Draco's 'subtle' touches and his loud conversations with his friends- I decide I need to buckle down and head to the library. I refuse to get anything less than an 'Outstanding' because of him.

LIBRARY

Thankful for the silence of the library- I take my favorite seat in the back where there's low foot traffic. I work diligently for a few minutes before I hear an unexpected sound- a swoosh and something with claws landing on wood. I stop my quill mid-air as I still, listening for the sound and looking around- wondering if it's my owl. On a bookshelf about three rows down, my eyes land on an Eurasian Eagle Owl. The owl watches me for a moment before turning and promptly flying out the closest open window.

Turning my eyes back to my essay, I jump back onto my train of thought I had just moments ago. For a while, the only sound in the library is the scratching of my quill on parchment and the occasional page flip.

That is until I hear the creak of the library door opening. I sigh, annoyed that there's going to be someone in here with me. I was hoping for absolute isolation and silence. I hear footsteps approaching- so I look up.

"Hey, beautiful." The smooth and confident voice of Draco floats to me before he reaches me with his usual stride- chest squared and shoulders slightly back.

"Draco." I say casually, turning my attention back to my homework.

"I missed you today. How's your day been?" He presses on, smirk on his face.

"I'm working on an essay. I would appreciate silence."

He takes the seat next to me, raising his hands in surrender as he turns to face the table, grabbing his own things out. I'm granted a few moments of quiet to focus on my homework.

"Y/n?" Draco says, voice quiet.

"What?" I say, turning my head to the side to look at him.

"I forgot my potions book. Can I borrow yours?" He asks, smirk in place. "Or we can share."

"Yeah, go on. I'm done with it anyway."

He leans over to 'borrow' the book. As he reaches across me, his arm brushes against my chest deliberately. He pauses for a moment longer than necessary before setting the book down in front of him. "Thanks." He says, looking smug.

I roll my eyes and scoot a chair away from him. Why was he sitting right next to me, anyway? The whole library is empty. I roll my eyes and pull out my Charms textbook, taking notes.

He notices my slight movement away from him but doesn't comment on it. Instead, he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rides up slightly, revealing a strip of his toned stomach. "It's hot in here, isn't it?" He comments, looking at me with a smirk.

"Actually, I'm rather cold. Must be a draft from the air of superiority that surrounds you."

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Always the sharp tongue. I should have known better than to expect anything less from you." He leans towards me, resting his elbows on the table. I hear the library door open again, and a few students shuffle in and take the table a few rows over.

"Must you be here? Couldn't you be anywhere else?" I say, rolling my eyes and turning my attention back to my notes.

He chuckles softly, the sound low and mocking. "And miss out on our banter? No thank you. Plus, my owl found you for me. You should be honored." He watches me from the corner of his eye, his quill moving idly across the page as he pretends to work on his own homework.

I shake my head and turn away so he doesn't see the smile that creeps across my features. I shouldn't find that flattering, it's creepy. He sent his owl to look for me so he can come bother me. But, he must have caught my smile because he smirks which turns into a full blown grin. He knows he's getting to me.

He pushes a little further by 'accidentally' dropping his quill on the floor right between our two chairs. "Oops." He remarks casually, bending over to pick it up- his soft, platinum locks tickling the bare skin of my arm.

"You're not nearly as slick as you think you are." I say. When he raises his head from picking up his quill, he lingers a few moments- his face level with mine. I spot a teasing glint in his ice blue eyes.

"And you're not as unaffected as you pretend to be."

"Shut up." I say, turning from him to hide my shy smile.

"You're feisty tonight." He pauses, letting his sentence hang in the air before continuing. "But I must say... it suits you."

"Everything does." I shrug casually, pretending to focus on my notes.

An amused smile settles over his lips. "You know what your problem is?" He leans forward, his voice dropping conspiratorially. "You're too smart."

"Oh, yeah?" And you know what YOUR problem is?"

He leans back again, his gaze never faltering. "No doubt I'm going to enjoy hearing this." His smirk returns full force as he waits.

"You think you're being charming and persistent, but you're just flat out annoying. Like a fly buzzing in someone's ear."

This time, he laughs out loud. "You're harsh."

"If you think that's harsh, you should hear the things I don't say out loud."

His smirk returns slowly. "Need I remind you that most girls would kill to even be seated next to me?"

"So they can choke on your expensive cologne? It's far too strong and you have too much of it on."

The eavesdropping students a few tables over laugh quietly and glance over, obviously finding this banter entertaining. Draco catches their eye and they look away quickly, pretending to work again.

"You really don't care about my reputation, do you?" He asks incredulously.

"Should I?"

His smirk widens but he says nothing more. Taking his silence as the end of our conversation, I reopen my textbook- aware of his dangerously close proximity. I take advantage of the silence, finishing up my homework and standing to go. Draco murmurs a small "see you later." as I pass him by, which I return, then I leave the library- feeling a little more warmth to a certain blonde Slytherin with an ego that's too big but a charm that's far bigger.

POTIONS CLASS

As I lean over to read a small caption in my Potions textbook, my hair falls into my face. Before I get a chance to move it- I jump at the feeling of gentle fingers pull it back for me. Once the strands are tucked behind my ear, the warm fingers of Draco Malfoy linger on the skin of my cheek for longer than necessary.

When I glance up to meet his eye, he smirks- pulling his chair closer to me before he sits down. He leans closer to me, his voice low and husky when he speaks. "May I borrow your notes?" He asks softly. "Please?"

"If you must." I tease, sliding my notes over to him. His lips twitch slightly at my teasing response. He copies my notes quickly, and Crabbe and Goyle slide chairs to join us at the table. Draco hands them my notes to borrow as well.

"Oh sure, pass them around." I mumble, rolling my eyes and leaning back in my chair. "You're lucky I was done with them."

Draco chuckles softly. I watch as he passes my notes around the table which is somehow bustling with various members of his clan coming to copy my notes before leaving. I watch them flip through my pages with impressed murmurs.

"Damn, y/n." Says one of the Slytherins. I couldn't tell who because I don't know half their names.

I glance over at him, some tall guy with shaggy brown hair. The Slytherin leans forward conspiratorially before he glances over at Draco. "I never thought I'd see Malfoy sitting next to someone that's smarter than him." He winks at me before moving away to his own table. As fast at they came, Draco's clan left.

"Well, this was odd." I say, organizing all my notes that have been returned to me, "No thanks to you. Distributing my notes like it was the morning paper."

Draco smirks at my sarcastic comment, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grace. He watches me intently- his eyes never leaving my face. When I look up at him, he raises an eyebrow. "I was just helping." He says, his tone mock innocent.

"Yeah, helping. Real helpful bloke you are." I say sarcastically, "You'd help me right over a boat's dock into shark-infested waters."

His smirk widens at my comeback. "Well, at least I'd still be helpful. You wouldn't have to do it yourself."

"Funny." I give him an unimpressed look- "And is that what you call yourself? I have a few other choice words in mind. 'Helpful' is not one of them."

He laughs softly, the sound genuine and warm. I really enjoy this banter with him, and I even enjoy him chasing me. It's fun.

"What would you call it then?"

"Annoying." I say, point-blank. He laughs a little louder this time, drawing the attention of some nearby students. He ignores them, focused on me entirely. "Annoying?" He repeats, still smiling, "I'll take that as a compliment coming from you." His eyes sparkle with amusement.

"What are you even doing right now? You've just been sat in that position for the last half hour and you've not gotten one thing done." I gesture to his open textbook and blank parchment. Well, he did have one page of notes done but only because he copied mine. He follows my gaze to his untouched book, still on page 394.

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Maybe I find other things more interesting than studying right now." He says smoothly.

"Does your incessant flirting ever cease?"

He leans back in his chair, a playful glint in his eye as he replies, "Not when I'm enjoying myself this much." He pauses, "And not when I'm around someone who keeps my attention so well." I look at him for a few moments. He's effectively wearing me down with his persistence and I am starting to form a small crush on him that I quickly suppress because there's no way I want him to know he's right about being wanted by every girl.

"You know what your problem is?"

He raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk as he waits for my response. "Enlighten me." He says, voice low and inviting. "What's my problem?"

"You stare unrelentingly at me. You remind me of a snake watching its prey."

His smirk widens at my analogy. He leans forward again, maintaining direct eye contact. "And what if I am? Do you know how rare it is to find someone who can actually handle my stare?" His voice drops lower, "Most avoid it."

"Your stare is quite intense, isn't it?" My eyes flicker between both of his ice blue ones.

"Some people say my stare is intimidating. My mother swears I inherited from my father." He laughs softly, "What do you think?"

"You really don't want to know what I think." I laugh softly to myself, tucking my things away to busy myself- small smile in place.

He watches me tuck away my things for a second before he stands up abruptly, making the chair scrape loudly against the floor and steps right behind me. "I do want to know." His voice comes from behind me, his figure towering. I feel suddenly flustered.

"Have you no decorum? We're still in class." I shuffle slightly in my seat. I feel him lean down slightly- his lips close to my ear.

"But you're here next to me, looking so good..." He whispers, "I'm not bothering anyone else, am I?" His breath tickles my neck.

"No, you've just stuck with bothering me."

He lets out a low chuckle, his chest vibrating on my back. I feel his presence almost completely now. I can't help but imagine what it would be like to be under him in a different scenario.

Noticing how quiet it's become, I glance around to see that at some point class was dismissed and Draco and I were left behind. We are the only ones left in the entire classroom.

"Only because you're the most interesting thing in the room," He admits quietly, "You don't back down from my snark, you speak your mind..."

I turn to smirk up at him, faces inches apart. "Soon, you'll be writing me love letters like a pining admirer."

He rolls his eyes at my teasing, but I see a small smile tug at his face. "Don't push your luck." He says without any real heat behind his words. "My handwriting is atrocious."

"Oh, so it's fitting for your personality then?"

He laughs genuinely, looking over my features, clearly enjoying this verbal sparring and extremely close proximity. "Touché" He grins, "You really are quite... sharp." His eyes flick down to my lips briefly before he settles his gaze on my eyes again. "Incredibly witty."

"Don't forget beautiful." I tease, voice playful.

"Beautiful, witty, and annoying as hell." He mutters, his voice affectionate. "The perfect combination."

I give a small smile, shaking my head up at him. "You're being far too nice. What are you up to?"

Realizing he's been slowly shedding his flirty advances for something more meaningful, he clears his throat and regains his composure- standing back upright and heading back to his seat, sitting down stiffly. "Nothing." he says, "Just enjoying the banter with a girl who can actually keep up." He pauses.

"Oh. Is that all?" I smirk at him, already missing his close proximity.

"What else would it be?" He challenges, his voice low. "You think I'm flirting with you?"

"Oh, you're absolutely flirting with me. That's what's been happening."

He stares at me for a long moment.

"Then let me be clear." He says, his voice low and intense. His eyes lock onto mine as he leans in closer. "I am not just flirting with you." He says firmly, "I am courting you. There's a difference." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "And I don't do this with just anyone." I look at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"I like you, y/n." Draco says, holding my gaze. "I'm not pursuing you for a shag. I think you're beautiful, and clever, and witty, and brilliant and I like spending time with you and talking to you."

"Draco.." I start softly.

"Y/n. Please." He says, cutting me off. "Let me finish. Yeah?" He looks at me, waiting for my nod. When he gets it, he continues.

"I want to spend more time with you. Intentional time. I want to pursue a romantic relationship with you. Are you willing to try with me?" He reaches out to take my hand, intertwining our fingers before setting them in my lap.

"Yes, Draco. I am willing to try with you." I say, finally allowing my carefully constructed walls to begin cracking. I have a feeling it'll be a long journey for the both of us but I also know it'll be worth it.

Masterlist

[baambied]

𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑴𝑬, 𝑩𝑼𝑻 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼. . . .

𝑽𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 / 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑲𝑨

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔/𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔

cw nsfw blood gore manipulation death/killing headcannon with plot blood sucking/eating vulgar language drunk man bothers reader possessive!sevika hot makeout session finger sucking tension yearning

here....sevika is loosley inspired by 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒆 𝑳𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕

vampire/rockstar!sevika ✗ human!femreader

m.list

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who had achieved immortality in the early 1700s, at the age of 34 in france . . . the person who made her happen to have the most ancient blood known to all vampires, that blood now in her making her stronger, faster, more advanced than any other vampire.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who . . even though being alive for 100s of years, moving from city to city, she still has that french accent laced in her voice, making her even more captivating to humans other than her appearance.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who slowly discovers how she is capable of more other than advanced strength and fast speed. . . learning how mortals were below her kind, learning how much power she had over the human mind. . if sevika wanted to, she could compel a whole group of humans and use them as mindless puppets.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who learned how to control her thirst around humans, which is something lots of vampires have a hard time doing, took her years to accomplish this.. but she can't lie. . she'd slip up sometimes .. draining the blood of tons of humans in her pastime.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who went on a killing rampage in the 1700s after she was turned, letting out any anger, disgust,disbelief she held against herself for her new life, draining almost any human in sight mainly targeting ones who evil, who have done evil things.

acting on impulse and personal desire for blood. In her early vampire nature, she saw these acts as a thrill, viewing it as a natural part of her existence of a vampire.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who doesn't have a coven and prefers to wander, moving from place to place, meeting new and different people, learning new languages.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who always had a passion for music, i mean, she watched how music drastically changed over time. . . how it became more improved. it fascinated her how something so beautiful could get even better...sure she loved the jazz era in the later 1900s, but she also loved the new era sounds too.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who learned how to play every instrument in the book during her 100 years of walking on this earth

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is now living in the 1990s. .a drummer in a popular rock band.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who loves the feeling of being on stage, the feeling of the stage lights beaming on her cold skin, hearing the cheers from the crowds - the women cheering, women who happens to have the hots for the buff, muscular, pretty looking drummer. . .screaming her name 'sevika! sevika!' like a prayer out of a bible. . . she needed this no - .. she yearned for this.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who sometimes invited women backstage to her dressing room - calling them her personal groupies , she'd get the talking, but she never paid attention to their words or how much they loved her when in reality sevika knew they just wanted her to fuck them - not that she minded.

but she'd mainly paid attention to the thumping in their chest, their veins pulsing underneath the soft skin...she used her words...manipulate them...almost like mind control, get them thinking this whole situation wasn't real, was just a figment of their imagination- maybe even a dream before piercing her sharp fangs into the side of their neck, letting the thick blood hit her throat.

she doesn't kill them, just drinks enough to satisfy her thirst, then stopping before their heart stops beating, the women would wake up in the comfort of their own homes the next day, light-headed with no memory of last night in their brain...just the throbbing sting on the side of their neck.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who nearly loses her self-restraint on stage just by smelling your sweet scent of blood in the crowd, her silver sharp eyes immediately finding your beaming doe brown ones in the crowd of people, her eyes almost staring through you, watching your veins pulse under your skin, watching the sweat roll down your neck, hearing your fast heart thumping in your chest as your adrenaline was high by the atmosphere of the concert...

if it weren't for you suddenly going to the bathroom, she would have drained you right there in the crowd in front of all these human eyes.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - accidently slips up and sucks a stage manager dry the same night, just so she can soothe the ache in her throat.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who thinks she doesn't have to see you anymore after the night - smell you anymore. . . . but oh boy, she was wrong.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is shocked when you end up being the groups new stylist, with hair and clothing.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who won't let you touch or dress her - or even fix her hair and clothes even though you're supposed to, and that's what you were hired to do. .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who ignores you for the first 4 weeks - staying away from you like you were the plague that could get her sick within seconds.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who finally gets used to your sickly sweet scent enough to actually let you fix her clothes and hair.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who notices how you just couldn't keep your eyes on her glistening chest that was shown due to a few of her buttons being undone on her shirt, you're eyes even widened at the imprint of nipple piercings from under her shirt where her breast were covered - to this sevika can't help but smirk at your wandering eyes.

at this moment, you were currently fixing sevika's belts that had gone loose. . . the belt wasn't meant to hold up her pants but was there for the style instead, silver chains hanging from them so anytime she moved your hear, her dark red button up that was once closed now opened showing the middle of her chest.

even though she was sweating, it didn't look like she was out of breath. . . you noticed this, but just thought she may have good cardio or something.

but. .you couldn't help but stare at her chest, your breath catching in your throat as you saw the imprint of what seemed to be piercings on her nipples, you couldn't help but wonder how they looked without being covered.

"see something you like? mon chèrie.." you felt as if your heart leaped out your chest at her voice, her deep voice - husky tone with a french accent laced in it, that itself had you captivated by her. . you've heard she was from france, yet you've never heard her talk. . . . and my god it was so attractive.

"i - i no. . . I'm fine.." you respond with a flustered look on your face, looking up you could feel your knees buckle seeing as she was staring at you, her sharp gray eyes gazing at you causing an almost chilling ambience that made you shiver.

sevika then looked away, a huge smirk on her face as if she had just heard something that she wasn't exactly supposed to, her teeth showing as she smiled, making you catch her long canine teeth.

"une créature tellement intéressante. . ." the immortal mumbled before walking away, you stood in the same spot, confusion drenched on your face as you didn't understand her sentence - yet it still left a strange warm feeling in your stomach, a feeling that didn't feel quite comfortable, a feeling that felt good but dangerous to have at the same time.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who finds herself indulged in a conversation with you, and during this, you can't help but realize how intriguing this woman is. . .how her sentences seemed so perfect, almost as if they were rehearsed, how she tends to speak as if she is from a different timeline, anytime she'd say something in french it caused a spark in you. . . she was perfect. . .so perfect in your eyes. . so deniably perfect.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - sevika, who slowly grows more comfortable around you, yet still has to ignore the urge to sank her fangs down in your neck.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who starts to feel emotions in her vampire form that hasn't been felt since she was human, it makes her grimace in distaste at the thought, the thought of being with you. . . ruining you. . . people would call her the walking devil on earth, using human blood to quench her thirst, not being able to go outside due to sunlight. .

the night holding all her secrets , shame, and guilt . . . and loneliness and the certain bloodlust urges that couldn't been seen when the night grew into a bright daylight. she was a monster. she did monstrous things. . .she couldn't be with you, someone who was way too good for this planet, to kind for their own good. she couldn't ruin that....couldn't ruin you.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who just can not keep her feelings in check, so she starts ignoring you once more like she did when you first started working, like you were the plague of the next century.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who is walking home from a pub one night, darkness surrounding the night sky, only thing heard was the steps of her shoes hitting the pavement , when suddenly her ears caught the sound of yelling nearby. . . coming from an alleyway, she slowly walks to the ally, her silver eyes looking at the scene displayed in front of her , not supirsed when she finds a drunken man bothering a women she couldn't see the face of , a sight she has seen countless of times throughout her years, she could smell the bourbon seeping through the man's skin causing her to cringe, it was truly disgusting.

she rolled up her sleeves of her white button up and walked closer, the man not yet noticing her presence...before sevika could act, she caught a whiff of a very familiar scent. . a sweet so fucking alluring scent.

once sevika realized that the woman infront for her, is, in fact, you, for some unknown reason, this sends her into a frenzy - something about seeing you useless against your will by a drunken - disgusting pig of a man made her so damn furious.

it was like she suddenly snapped . . edged with anger, those human feelings that she had buried weeks ago creeping back into her head.

within seconds, she was like the wind behind the man roughly grabbing the back of his suit and pulling him away from you and in a flash the man's body was hitting the other side of the ally wall, bricks even breaking from the building at sevika's supernatural strength.

next thing she knows, her fangs are piercing the man's throat, the feeling of an intoxicated blood entering her system. She was repulsed by his taste, yet still so sickened by his actions.

she could hear your whimpering escaping your lips, staggered breathing as you tried to regain control over it, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, eyes widened in terror at the sight of sevika's - the woman you once viewed as flawless and the epitome of perfect was now infront of you sucking the life out of the man who followed you from a bar nearby against your will.

you didn't know whether if you were paralyzed with fear. . .or shock. . .

driven by sheer terror , not knowing what might happen next - acting out on pure fear you found yourself running down the ally way, the muscles in your calves already tired from your paralyzed stance from before, you ran and didn't look back.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who expected to see you on the news the next day explaining how you saw "the devil itself drinking the blood and eating the flesh of a human" last night. . . but surprisingly, there was nothing of that sort. Instead, the man sevika drained dry and bought to the woods was found and told to die in a freak accident with some sort of wild animal. .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who realizes you don't show up to work for 3 days straight , her silver eyes attempted to find yours like before in the crowd of mortals each time she performed those nights. . failing each time.

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who wouldn't be surprised if you fled town to escape her unnatural acts. . but boy, was she surprised to see you standing in her dressing room after a show, sevika acting adrenaline and impulse she immediately told the woman she had brought with her to go away .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆!𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒌𝒂 - who acts surprised when you confront her about what happened in that ally , you're absolutely baffled by her words. . . her pure lies of her twisting the narrative of the truth to fit her lie. . . she was lying through her teeth to you.

"please - i feel like my mind is spinning out of control i- i don't . . . know what i saw i-"

"you're right, you don't know what you saw. . . you're confused ma mie. ." sevika's voice spoke out lowly, a smooth whisper with something lingering behind it.

"b-but. . . you. .i saw you. ." you stumbled over your words, bottom lip shaking as you thought about the terrifying acts you saw that night, you weren't crazy. . . you know what you saw.

"shh shh shh. . ." sevika put a hand to her lips, mimicking a quiet action with her pointer finger that was covered in two chunky silver rings. . "mon amour please. . . you had drank alot among that night, my eyes caught you in an ally way grappling with a drunkard . . . i got him off you - saving you, that is all you need to remember." her deceptive demeanor hid her true intentions, the constant contradiction she put on you was overwhelming.

"no. . .the blood dripping down your chin, the - the look in your eyes. . the sounds" your sentence coming out in a broken whisper "you killed that man by - sucking his blood. . .I'm not crazy ... i was doubting everything - my own memories, but i know what i saw."

you were looking down, meaning you missed sevika's gaze darken at your words. . her eyes fiercely staring at you, burning through you like lava, piercing through your soul.

she had an alluring and almost hypnotic gaze.

"are you afraid." Were the only words spoken out by sevika, her sentence coming out like a demand for you to answer other than an actual question.

but. . .

were you?

as crazy it sounds, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders at her words. . . these three days you spent in your home, petrified, thinking what you saw was a figment of your own imagination, thinking you were going mad, thoughts racing so fast against eachother you couldn't even keep up.

the dressing room was filled with a heavy suffocating silence, almost eerie.

but also the tension between you and the immortal was growing thick, probably more thick than the silence around you. . .sevika leaned closer to you, her broad and buff figure towering over your shorter figure, you still hadn't looked up at her . . your height making your eyes only reach her chest, this only made sevika lean lower , her body moving forward causing you to slowly step back. . . . this process stopped when your back hit the wall of her dressing room.

she could hear your lips shakily pressing into a line, roughly gulping . . and she could practically feel the nervousness seeping out of your pours , almost as if your emotions were intact with one another, she could feel everything you were feeling in this moment.

this was new for her...

having someone else's emotions connect within her own. . .

you were unable to form a single sentence, the tension felt so thick it suffocated you like blanket, leaving you hot and sweaty.

if sevika had the pleasure of breathing again, her breath would definitely be caught in her throat when she finally saw you look up at her, she's seen many eyes before, many expressive ones filled with different colors. . but your beautiful big brown eyes catch her off guard, again something that does not happen to her often. . . she was almost bewildered at this feeling.

sevika head slowly leaned closer to you, gently resting her forehead on yours as he clenched her eyes tightly - she had never been this close to you before so the the sweet scent of your blood flowed in her nose more easily. . . the smell nearly making her go feral. .

you slightly gasped when you felt her drag her head in the crook of your neck, for second you think you hear a low animalistic guttural growl escape her throat, her nose sniffing you as if you were some sort of food for her dinner. . .

her hands reaching beside you on the wall, she was almost shaking. . . you were in such a vulnerable position, she could sink her teeth into your skin if she desired to. . . just thinking about that made her hands clench, which they did, into the hard - blue painted wall causing a loud crushing noise to enter your ears.

"i can still smell him on you. . .his vulgar stench" sevika growled , her voice was deeper, smooth, and almost seductive, making you close your eyes, parting your mouth, letting out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding in..

"do you know what i am. . ."

all of the nervousness , fear that was once in your body, was now replaced with the sudden urge of desire for this women infront of you - this immortal, you knew what she was you've heard of the myths, legends of blood drinking demons that preyed among humans. . .

yet you weren't scared of her, if she wanted to hurt you - even kill you . . she would have by now.

"Do i not scare you, mon chèrie. . ."

"no. ." your words came out with no hesitation, you didn't even think before you replied.."you saved me. .that night. . ."

sevika grunted at your words, her eyes still clenched closed, she could feel the heat radiating off your body coming onto her's, she pulled her head from your neck, looking into you eyes once more.

sevika looked as though she was drunk off your scent, her lidded gray eyes staring at you as her lips pursed together, staring at you like she was trying to read through you. .

you two stayed like this for what it seemed like minutes, hours even? maybe. . . the hot tension piercing the air between you two waiting to be broken, waiting to be sliced.

and it soon was, before you knew it, the immortals lips smashed roughly into your soft ones. . .

the kiss was hot and rough, but you took it , accepted it - you've been wanting this. . . needing this ever since the day both your eyes connected when she was on stage. . .both your mouths moving with urgency against eachother, as if you both would disappear in any moment.

your hands growing confident as they now moved around sevika's muscular back. . .

the kiss became messier and slippery more uncoordinated, sevika grunted like an angry animal against your mouth, the crunching of the wall could be heard once more, taking her frustrations out on it - knowing that if she were to place her hands on her body she could possibly hurt you with her unnatural strength.

"move to the dresser. ." sevika's husky tone was undeniably alluring, almost like a captivating melody for your ears, she removes her hands from the wall, watching as you slowly walked to the dresser nearby, legs visibly shaking with each step, sevika smirked at the sight of this slowly following behind you. . her tounge swiping up against her pointy fang as her silver eyes watched your movement.

once you reached the dresser, you turned around, leaning your lower back on it slightly flinching when sevika was already in front of you, with a cocky smirk on her lips.

"tu es l'un des humains les plus intéressants que j'aie jamais vu pendant mes cent ans. ."

you frown once more as sevika's cold hand raises up to your jaw, softly caressing you. . your'e warm heat from your skin collaborating with her icy cold ones. . such an unfamiliar feeling to you..

"sevika. . i don't understand your words. ." you respond to her..softly.

"You don't need to understand, mon cœur. ." she replies, her voice was like velvet, smooth, husky and rich with a lingering whisper that sent chills through your body.

her finger once on your jaw, moving higher. .to your cheek. . her thumb than meeting your moist, swollen lips. . . sevika gaze eyed your mouth as she pushed in her thumb, seeing you accept it with no hesitation, her thumb in your warm , wet mouth pressing down gently as possible on your tongue.

you lean into her touch, letting her do whatever she pleases with you.

whatever she desired. .

her thumb swirling around your tongue, she almost looked entranced by this, captivated by you - even more when she could hear the small sounds that escaped your throat when you yourself weren't even aware of them. .

she slipped her thumb out your warm mouth, smiling slightly at the string of saliva that came with it, she than stuck the thumb inside her mouth, sucking it off before releasing it with a loud pop.

you flustered by the sudden action, looking down avoiding the eye contact she always gave you.

sevika leaning in to you, her hands resting on the sides of the dresser. .she moved her head on yours, trying to catch your flustered gaze, when she did your lips slowly connecting again. . instead of thie kiss starting off rough and sloppy like the first one, this one started sensual, slow as if sevika was now taking her time.

her tongue brushing against your bottom lips before she entered it inside your mouth, both your tongues entangling - fighting for dominance that sevika clearly won within seconds. . even though the kiss was softer it was still messy, you could feel you saliva running down you chin as you leaned into her more, nor knowing this movement caused your tongue to brush up against her sharp fangs, causing a small cut on your pink muscle. . . you didn't notice, but when that taste entered sevika's mouth her eyes went wide.

immediately breaking the heated kiss, she stood for a moment - finally tasting your blood. . . sweet. . it was so fucking sweet.

she swallowed roughly with scowl on her face, closing her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the thoughts of draining your pulsing body right here on her dresser.

"sevika. . did - did i do something wrong?" You ask embarrassed, fumbling over your words unsure what to do next as the woman suddenly just pulled away from you, you're body flinched at the crushing of wood beside you - sevika and squeezed the dresser so hard, the place where she rested her hands now crushed into pieces.

whe you go to look back uo at her - she's already out the door. . . in a swish moment, like the wind she slammed the door open and she was gone.

leaving you in her dressing room, on her dresser, with swollen lips she caused and with confusion engulfing your body as you also felt a tingling between your legs. .

[aethon-recs]

30 Tomarrymort Recs for 2024 — Completed Multi-Chapter Fics (Part 1)

Happy new year, and what a year 2024 was for the Tomarrymort ship! 🤍 We went from close to 13,000 fics in the beginning of 2024 to over 15,000 fics in the ship tag by the end of the year. How incredible is that!?

I've split up my 2024 year-end recs into 3 parts: (1) Completed Multi-Chapter Fics, (2) One-Shots, (3) WIPs. Here is Part 1 of the list: Completed Multi-Chapter Fics.

Please enjoy these 1.5 million words of completed Tomarrymort fic from 2024!

*

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid (E, 322k, complete)

Tom Riddle opens the Chamber of Secrets in Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts. After a botched attempt to extract the Horcrux in Harry’s scar leaves their souls tied together, Tom is forced to kidnap him when he makes his escape. A story of Horcrux hunting, adventure and unwilling attraction.

Anabiosis by @itsevanffs (E, 39k, complete)

The school is… unprotected. Voldemort gets resurrected early, and learns this very quickly. Harry Potter likes his new teacher: he's a pretty man in his early thirties with a kind smile and dark hair and eyes - and he doesn't seem to hate him, unlike all the other teachers.

aurora polaris by @aglassroseneverfades (E, 217k, complete)

Harry does not give up the Horcrux when he dies. Moved by compassion, he embraces it instead. What follows next, he could not predict. He’s not sure he ever really had a choice in the matter. The world Harry wakes up to is not like the one he remembers. And his captor is neither the same as he was, nor as different as he would like.

Change Me by @valkyrie-chemist (E, 17k, complete)

Harry Potter had grown up listening to tales of the cursed Lord Voldemort. Trapped in his mysterious manor, the man—the monster—was said to be crueler and more hungry than Death itself. So why then, Harry thought, was the groundskeeper still alive? What sway did Tom Riddle have over Lord Voldemort to stay his wicked hand when Harry had so brazenly trespassed on his lands? Whatever it was, it was not enough. For try as he might, not even Tom could persuade the monster to let Harry leave. That is, Tom challenged, if Harry even wanted to.

Creatures of the Dark we are by @hikarimeroperiddle (E, 28k, complete)

Banished to his cupboard at age 4, Harry learns to listen only to the Voice in his head. Its teachings warp all Harry could have become until no more than dark magic and devotion remains. Visions of a wraith with red eyes complicate matters, especially when Harry and the Voice follow it to Hogwarts so Master can get his hands on the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry can do magic. He can’t do people.

death cheater (are you?) by regulus_little_mermaid (E, 14k, complete)

Tom tries to understand: just because a stranger saves your life a few times doesn't mean you can fall in love with him.

Dulce Et Decorum Est Mori by beetaker (E, 135k, complete)

“I'm glad it's both of us,” Harry said, green eyes somehow greener, the natural brightness in him turning incandescent. “I'm glad we're going together.” “We'll always go together,” Tom said, knowing it as fact, unable to imagine anything different. Wherever he went, Harry was sure to follow. It'd been that way forever. It would surely always be that way.

Extenuating Circumstances by Origin_Of_Symmetry (M, 87k, complete)

“You’re really quite a delight, Harry. I can’t believe I went weeks thinking you were useless and boring.” Somehow, unwittingly, Harry finds himself engaged to Tom Riddle. He’s not entirely sure how that happened.

friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight (E, 28k, complete)

There’s something very unsettling about Tom Riddle. Cedric can’t put a finger on it. Whether it’s the way he moves, all long limbs and eerie fluidity, the dissecting gaze he follows them with, or the way he speaks, with an accent that doesn’t match his manners. Maybe it’s how he drinks in Harry’s presence like a religious zealot, or how his eyes wander over Harry’s body as if he’s seen the skin and flesh underneath before.

gaming buddies by @reggieblk (M, 19k, complete)

All it takes is a rude comment under a YouTube video for Harry and Tom to meet their best friend and, incidentally, the love of their lives. Through thousands of hours of playing Minecraft together, getting to know each other, and finally meeting in real life, it was inevitable they'd fall in love.

Hearthstone Abbey by @ramabear (E, 116k, complete)

Harry follows Thomas Gaunt into his world much like he stepped onto Diagon Alley that first time, wide-eyed and full of wonder. He has no idea what exactly this world has in store for him, but he knows that with Thomas at his side, he is safe and happy for the first time in his whole life. There is someone who will always be there for him, always look after him, always care for him and everything Thomas does just proves that to be true.

In the Shape of Fear, Erised by @rowena-rain (E, 19k, complete)

Harry sneaks into Lupin’s office late at night, determined to banish his recurring nightmares of a certain devastatingly handsome future Dark Lord once and for all. But things quickly spiral into depravity, and before he knows it, Harry is getting thoroughly railed by a boggart in the form of Diary Tom Riddle... Or is it?

in the silence by @satflesk22 (E, 48k, complete)

There's a new student at Hogwarts. And, for some reason, he's decided he's going to be Tom Riddle's best friend. Tom, immortal aspiring Dark Lord, apparently has no say in the matter.

In Their Absence by @mosiva (E, 35k, complete)

“Weird place to hang out, mate,” Harry said, more to break the oppressive silence. There was nothing but the thick hedges, the faintest whisper of a breeze, the grey sky overhead, and Voldemort. “You believe this to be a dream,” Voldemort rasped. “You always were foolish.”

Kudosed, Bookmarked, Subscribed by @maquira713 (E, 79k, complete)

By day, Harry works as a lowly assistant to his boss: the cruel, controlling Tom Riddle. By night, he lives, breathes, and writes fanfiction. And when he's not writing, he's obsessing over the work of his favorite Ao3 author: Lord_Voldemort_. So, of course, it’s only a matter of time before Harry gets caught reading Voldemort’s latest fanfiction at work… by none other than his boss.

Machine Men by @izharmilgram (E, 5k, complete)

Harry discovers Lord Voldemort is transgender, and he's really fucking hung up about it.

rage, rage (against the dying of the light) by MerleBlanc (M, 17k, complete)

1978. Voldemort is winning, bored, and his immortality secured. When a mysterious man appears out of thin air to oppose his Death Eaters, he is more than intrigued by whom the newspapers now nickname the Good Samaritan. Except someone is also stealing his horcruxes one by one, and he has never felt more threatened in his life. Or: Harry just lost his wife, made a deal with Death, travelled from the future to gain back his mortality, and decided to fuck a timeline.

see you soon by @duplicitywrites (E, 9k, complete)

It’s summer, which explains why Tom has all this free time to visit Harry’s flat and place of work, but it does not explain how Tom knows, with unerring accuracy, where Harry is at any given moment. Harry has checked with his coworkers—Tom only ever shows up at Fortescue’s when Harry is the manager on shift.

Shiver, Lustre, Skin by @monsieurclavier (M, 9k, complete)

Harry goes undercover as a bargirl at one of Tom Riddle’s exclusive clubs. Tom has her figured out in approximately one second. Or: In which Tom is a badass Wizarding mob boss and an incorrigible lesbian flirt, and Harry—sassy newbie Auror and secret virgin—is just Tom’s type.

something precious by @mosiva  (E, 16k, complete)

“Fine,” Harry said, giving in to curiosity as he always did. “What is it?” Tom shook the vial, letting the liquid catch the light and send rays scattering over his hand and face. “It’s a love potion,” he said.

Still Into You by @moontearpensfic (E, 29k, complete)

Harry has a stalker. If only he noticed sooner.

Sugar Soaked by @teaandsweaters9 (E, 46k, complete)

Seducing Hepzibah Smith out of her most precious belongings should have been simple. Spend time with her, charm her, drain her for all she’s worth, and move on. Unfortunately for Tom Riddle, Harry Potter, professional savior and amateur waiter, has other plans.

the only heaven by iwasborntired (M, 11k, complete)

“You,” Ginny swallows, and her voice sounds jagged, waves crashing against an uneven shore. “You called out for him, in your sleep.” He does not need her to finish. He knows. It is sick and festered and rotten, and it is true. In the blanket of night, in his dreams, Harry Potter starves. His mouth forms the supplication, a secret scalds the air, and his soul, then and now and always, calls out for Tom Riddle. It is only fair, after so long spent stitched into the fabric of one other.

the righteous dead by @aspengray (T, 40k, complete)

Harry is resurrected, sewn together with thread and magic. He remembers nothing except that he loves his savior, a man named Voldemort.

Thin Skin by @iseliljathedreamer (E, 15k, complete)

The war ended with a conditional surrender where the most powerful wizard alive signed his freedom away for 100 years to a boy of 17 armed with a basilisk tooth and a putrid, poisoned pool, in exchange for secrecy and eternal life. But that was years ago now. Harry thought he'd never get used to having Voldemort living in his house, but he did. Time is a miracle-worker beyond all human comprehension, and yet, there are wounds it remains to heal. Quite literally.

Tom Riddle's DIY Disaster by @sri-verse (E, 13k, complete)

Harry and Tom were the closest two people could be. They always shared everything, no secrets between them.  So, when Tom told Harry about his last orgasm, why was Harry acting all weird? It was granted that Tom would think of him.

Trenches by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (T, 82k, complete)

"Maybe you should kill them," Harry says. He's sitting perched on the stairs, hands clasped together, green eyes watching Tom and his irritating year mates. His form is hazy around the edges, an almost translucent quality to his image. "I can't just kill people," Tom says. "Not in public.” Role-Reversal where Harry is the Dark Lord and Tom Riddle is the Boy-Who-Survived.

two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane (NR, 8k, complete)

Potter is finishing up with his sketch of the craniofacial structure. There is still more of his body to go, and more sessions left, and Tom cannot be sure whether he wants the precise drawings to be more or less—true, at all, if he could even describe them as untruthful. They aren’t beautiful as Tom is in the mirror, but they are still, undeniably, him, with the eye of someone learning to cut people apart and look beneath their skin, still bloodless yet, and—well.

What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete)

Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry...

You By The Shore by @blackseatwenty (E, 19k, complete)

Harry's grown on the island his whole life. He fell in love with a stranger standing alone by the shore. Or is it crazy to believe in love at first sight?

*

[greenandsorrow]

Sunflower, in a field of roses.

CHAPTER 2: Close Quarters

Cho Hyun-ju x fem!reader

🌻 Masterpost & Summary: click here

!!! obliviously!flirty!reader, blonde!reader, co-worker tension, mutual pining & mutual sapphic awakening, pre-op!Hyunju, early transition, dysphoria themes, trans visibility, menstruation talk, financial struggles, slow burn, w|w, suggestive themes, POV changes

To ground this in Hyun-ju's specific experience: she's not someone who would use celebratory language for her body. (She wouldn't call it a girlcock, not because it's wrong, but because she's not there, at least not yet.)

(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ Double the word count of the first chapter, just for you! A big thank you for all the comments & reblogs. They're so important to me!

This chap is establishing a dynamic through every day interactions. We also get to see the reader's POV, 'cause Hyun-ju ain't the only one suffering in gay panic 🩷

You show up to work on a casual Friday in a low-cut peasant blouse. Nothing too revealing. Nothing performative. It looks effortless from your part.

Your cleavage forms a delicate curve, the kind that dips when you lean over the table.

Hyun-ju can't stop seeing it.

Not because she's staring. Not exactly.

You do catch her looking once and grin. Not coy, just amused.

"What?" you tease. "You can't possible be jealous I got back problems at my age."

Hyun-ju flinches before she can school her face.

She laughs it off, but inside, she wants to scream. Luckily, there's always something to do to distract herself around here.

Stacks of beauty product boxes line the walls. Serums, moisturizers, imported lip tints. Hyun-ju starts lifting three at a time like they're featherlight. You're crouched by the label printer, trying to make the machine stop beeping.

She squats beside you in silence, offering a roll of tape. You take it with a soft "Thanks", your fingers brushing briefly against hers.

Cold against warm.

You look up -and up- eyes rounding at just how tall she looks this close. It hits you then, how powerful she must be.

Strong. Silent. Mysterious.

Captivating.

"Do you work out?" you ask, innocent but genuine.

Hyun-ju blinks. "I used to. Army."

Your lips part slightly.

"No way! You were a soldier?"

"Sergeant."

There's a pause.

You study her for a moment longer, eyes flicking to her sharp jawline, her shiny bob, her soft eyeliner.

"So that's why you look like you could crush a man with your thighs" you mutter with a little grin, thinking Hyun-ju won't catch it.

Hyun-ju does catch it.

And freezes.

For a second, she doesn't know what to say.

She feels heat crawl up her neck. Not from the compliment, but from the fact that it means something. That it came from a girl like this.

You don't notice the full effect you're having. You're already talking again –soft, fast, head tilted.

"I could never survive the army. I get a rash on my elbows if I forget to moisturize. Plus, I'd cry if someone yelled at me."

Hyun-ju lets out a breath that might've been a laugh if she wasn't clenching her jaw.

Her eyes flick over your nails –painted bright pink, glossy like candy. Your wrist is wrapped in bracelets and hair ties. You look like you belong in a field of flowers. Or on a Parisian balcony, sipping tea and reading romance.

She looks away.

"She's too much of a girl. Too beautiful. Too... everything."

"You're not supposed to want that."

"You're not supposed to want her."

"You're not even supposed to want at all. Not so early. Not so soon."

"You always smell like a garden" Hyun-ju blurts suddenly.

You blush ...and change the subject a bit too fast for it to be coincidental.

Oh you.

You just never stop talking.

Not in a bad way.

You talk while folding boxes, while microwaving lunch, while putting on your little pink gloves to tape up another stack of sad, dented packages. You speak shifting between English and accented Korean.

And Hyun-ju listens.

Not because she wants to. Not always. But because you always seem to find her.

You're currently sorting inventory together –the usual.

"Do you think this color is cute?"

Hyun-ju turns to find you holding up a lip oil, one you definitely shouldn't have opened.

You've already applied it. Your mouth sparkles.

"Sure, it's cute" she answers, trying to keep her tone flat, but not entirely cold.

You beam. "I knew it! And! It tastes like apple pie."

You lean closer.

Too close.

Hyun-ju catches a whiff of perfume and shampoo –and warmth.

She flinches like it burned.

"You okay?" you ask, brows lifting in interest.

"I'm fine."

Before long, your wrist is dotted with swatches of moisturizers you've been "testing", like you're on a makeup counter instead of a grimy backroom.

"This one's niacinamide-based" you ramble, handing her a pale tube. "Your skin's kind of dry since this shitty weather started, y'know. No offense."

"None taken" she mumbles, a little too quietly. She doesn't tell you that she tried the chamomile toner from last time and that she liked it. A lot. But she does hope her internal gratitude is enough, in some weird cosmic sense???

She takes the sample, holds it awkwardly.

Doesn't know how to say she can't afford stuff like this. That she's still rationing her HRT. That skincare isn't just luxury for her –it's camouflage.

You lean into her personal space once again, your fingers grazing hers as you take the cap to show her how much to use.

Hyun-ju feels her breath hitch –just a second too late.

"She touches me like we're the same. No tension. No pause. How?"

Then, the locker room again.

Hyun-ju is alone, just out of the shower, towel around her neck, only a black sports bra on. Her skin still glistens, abs and chest slightly damp, stomach firm, carved from years of military discipline.

Her body feels like a betrayal sometimes.

It's strong. Respected.

But it's not what she wants to see.

She had made sure that she'd take her shower only after everyone else had gone home –she has to save water somehow, these bills keep piling up. She had double-checked that no one would walk in on her, under any circumstances.

The door opens.

"Oh my God—I'm sorry!"

You freeze, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Not with disgust. Not even shock. Just… stunned.

You're in a cropped graphic tee and nothing else, clutching your work shirt to your chest, eyes wide.

"Shit—I'm sorry, so sorry! I didn't mean—" you stammer, eyes darting away, cheeks red.

Hyun-ju pulls her own shirt on quickly, face a blank mask, but her voice comes out clipped. "It's okay."

You don't leave.

"I've never seen abs like that" you say softly. "You're kinda… wow."

"Don't look at me like that."

"L-like what?"

"Like I'm not… like I don't belong in here."

"I wasn't" you insist. "I swear, I wasn't."

But it's too late. Hyun-ju feels disgusting. Masculine. Alien. A soldier-shaped thing in a girl's locker room.

"Please go."

Silence.

You back out, nodding wordlessly.

But the next day, you're still somehow orbiting around her. Still smiling. Still chirping about skincare and quick breakfast recipes and your awful ex.

It seems annoyingly repetitive today.

"Period's killing me" you groan, holding your stomach. "I swear my uterus has grown little monkey hands."

Hyun-ju stiffens.

You notice.

"Sorry. Was that too much?"

"No." She clears her throat. "Just don't know what to say."

"Oh, you don't have to say anything." Then softer, "I just like when you listen."

You pause after that.

Blink.

"Oh. Right–"

A reddish hue paints your chicks and you mentally scold yourself for being inconsiderate. However, you recover fast, switching back to your cheeky, unstoppable self.

"Lucky bitch."

Hyun-ju doesn't smile.

Because she would deal with it. She would bleed. She would take the cramps and the bloating and the wretched inconvenience if it meant being seen -known- as a woman, without question.

She wants the whole damn curse of being "Her".

And that thought leaves her feeling like a monster.

The song had played on accident the first time.

Spotify shuffle. She was too tired to skip, most likely out of turns anyway.

Now, it's in all her playlists and she's listening to it on the way home.

“And who's gonna kiss the brown haired girls

Who's gonna wipe away their tears

And what about the black haired girls

Who's gonna whisper filthy things into their ears”

When Hyun-ju gets home, she untucks, tucks again, and lies awake.

She has stopped touching herself altogether.

Simply can't.

But she remembers the flash of skin in the locker room so clearly.

She contemplates the way you don't flinch around her, no matter her physical state. Hair up or down. Looser or tighter clothes. Make-up or bare faced. Sitting cross legged or crouched down, knees apart.

Tonight, she dreams of you, again.

This time you're leaning over her, whispering something sweet. Something cruel. Something true.

She wakes up semi-hard, hurting, folded tight against herself like a secret she'll never get to speak out loud...

“It's just unearned admiration

Are you sick of all the stares

You don't need to hide yourself away

You only need to dye your hair”

She's been quiet about it.

About the ache behind her nipples, the way her chest stings when she bumps into something. The tissue there feels new. Foreign. Fragile. She holds her arms crossed when it gets bad, pretends it's just the cold.

Fat has started to shift too –her hips are softer, thighs with a little more weight. Her old pants don't sit right, and she hasn't figured out if that's comforting or humiliating.

Her arms have lost that tight edge, the hardness she used to work so hard for.

And shaving...

God, shaving. Every damn day. She asked you once what razor you use, all shy and stiff, like it was classified information.

“But it won't do you any good

'Cause pretty soon your roots will be showing

And anytime you try to leave the room

They'll ask you just where the hell do you think you're going”

The hormones hit hard sometimes.

Not in ways you'd notice –no breakdowns, no sobbing fits. She swallows it down, military-style. Discipline over emotion.

But sometimes, it hits her. When you laugh. When you lean against her shoulder. When she thinks about the way you looked at her once, like you wanted her.

And then she remembers: she still has a cock.

Her body still doesn't fit the softness she's trying to perform.

She's not fragile. She's trying so hard to be though.

How can that be achieved when sometimes her hands still curl like they're waiting for a rifle, and her thighs are still wide from combat training?

Her softness feels like drag sometimes.

And what if she's hard for you? What does that make her?

Still a man? Still a fucking fraud?

(No.)

And yet, she paints her nails.

Lets her hair grow longer.

Wears floral deodorant.

She tries.

God, she tries. Even when she sometimes feels like she's playacting at being your kind of girl.

She can't forget it.

You had said something like, "You'd make a terrifying butch" and smirked like you'd still want her anyway –and she wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss you or cry on your shoulder.

Lying on her side in the dark, sports bra off, chest sore, feet swollen, the lyrics drift around her in the air...

“And anyone who ever had a heart

Or sang a lonesome song

Would sell their little souls

Just to make it with the blonde”

You are in her head.

Your perfume. Your peachy lip gloss and constantly blushing cheeks.

The way you always grab her wrist instead of her hand.

The way your hair sticks to your neck after work.

The way you talk about cramps like you're narrating a battle report.

She doesn't cry. Not this time. But she doesn't skip the song either.

She closes her eyes, listening. Imagining what it would feel like to be looked at the way she looks at you. Imagining a world where she didn't have to tuck, or flinch at your jokes, or pretend she doesn't notice the softness of your belly when you bend over to grab the exacto knife back in the warehouse.

In the dark, Hyun-ju aches –not with lust, but with grief.

She covers her face and listens to the rest of the song play out –'till an ad pops up. Then, she groans softly into her pillow in frustration.

Your own moment?

It happened on the bus ride after work, quietly.

You were looking out the window. The sky was soft, kind of gold.

In your peripheral, you could see the fine hairs at the back of her neck in the light, the shape of her profile –how full her lips are.

You didn't know what you were thinking until she shifted and her thigh brushed yours, and your whole body lit up like you touched an outlet.

You stared down at your knees.

Thought about the way her voice drops when she says your name.

Thought about how her hand had looked curled around a bottle of rosehip oil earlier, tentative, like she didn't deserve to hold something delicate –yet, looked so beautiful doing so.

You've never wanted to kiss someone out of pure awe before.

But now you do.

And somewhere inside your chest, something soft and pink and very, very gay opens like a window.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate you 🩷🌻

You can ask to be added to the taglist! Just shoot me an ask or reply ♡

Support your gal who's currently trying to survive uni. Every penny/euro means the world. Thank you so much! [PayPal] [Ko-fi] [Stripe]

Sunflower by @kodaswrld and sparkles by @saradika-graphics.

Taglist: @euryalex @hyunjusbiggestfan @applepie1000 @vexineew @relaps3 @unjuuu @shamidreamer @onlysarang @deltamoon666 @radioloom @lunaryoongie @uccidila @thatfictionalwh0re @boxaru

[powerfultenderness]

Me: tbh I love Soap fluff fics so much.

My daydreams: Soap is a manwhore slut bastard that thinks you're perfect wife material, only he's not ready to get married yet. Tells you he won't commit to an exclusive relationship before the first time you fuck, and it's such a good fuck that you go back to him whenever he calls.

He uses you to calm down after rough days/missions, cuddling you in the warmth of your home, head buried in your bosom as you gently scratch his scalp. LOVES your cooking and often stops by just to see what you made for dinner (you always make enough to share with him) or to raid your fridge for leftovers.

All while he's fucking other women too. Sure on his drunkest nights, he leaves them and barges into your home just so he can cuddle with you, but you know where he's been. He smells of their perfume, has their lipstick staining his skin, has their teeth and nails claiming what should be yours.

He knows you're in love with him. He knows that you're waiting for him, that you'll wait for him for forever. He knows that just because he's sleeping around doesn't mean that you are. You barely even look at other men.

It really is the best of both worlds for him. He gets to taste every pretty thing he sets his eyes on, then turn around and live the (fake) domestic life with you. It's perfect.

Until he gets too confident, too assured in your not quite a relationship with him. He invites you out with the lads, usually a night like that ends with him in your bed, so you happily meet them at the pub. You dress up pretty, do your make up how you know he likes (he likes when you wear mascara on your bottom lashes, likes to watch it run during the night). But when you get there, he's already wrapped around a pretty woman, arms caging her against a pool table as he teaches her how to shoot, as her ass presses right up against his crotch.

You sigh as you sit at the bar instead of meeting the group. This isn't the first time this has happened, him picking up other women right in front of you. You know this night will end with another piece of your heart breaking. His friends will look at you with pity, and you're not sure you want to face that right now.

So when a stranger slides up to the bar next to you and offers to buy you a drink, you think, fuck it, why not?

You face him, to offer a polite smile and thanks, only to be met with a startling mask. The only part of this man's face you can see are his eyes, beautiful pools of blue slightly down turned. He introduces himself, "König," and while his voice isn't as deep as his stature would suggest, it's pleasant and dripping with an attractive accent.

He pays attention to everything you say, tells you that you can do better than that little man across the pub, then changes the subject when he sees you get a little sad when you glance at Johnny. Most of all, he makes you feel like the only woman in the world. (Maybe you just have a thing for pretty blue eyes, cute accents, and big muscles).

THAT'S when Johnny finally notices you, with his arm still keeping the other tucked to his side, he's about to wave you over to the group ("just a friend" he tells her) when you stand up and leave with König, your arm wrapped around his massive bicep.

Gaz let's out a low whistle, "she did look pretty. No wonder that PMC bloke made a move."

"Lucky him." And "Good for her." Are said somewhere beside him, but Soap doesn't hear it over the ringing in his ears.

How could he pay attention to them when he just watched HIS woman walk away with another man?

[luvf4ngz]

Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together

grim reaper! jason todd

Description: Your constant close calls with death first captures the attention of the Grim Reaper, then his heart, and lastly, his devotions.

Contents: Female Reader, Mentions Of Death/Dying, References to Greek Mythology, Possessiveness, You Watch Pretty Woman and Read Pride & Prejudice Together Bc Yeah, Mentions Of Isolation But It’s Okay I Promise, Jason Is Lowkey Lonely And Desperate, Reader Has A Death Wish? Maybe?, Praise Kink, SO MUCH PRAISE, Unprotected Sex, Religious Symbolisms, Sacrilege?, Nipple Play, Jason Calls You Princess, Obviously???, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, (Female Receiving), He’s So In Love, Jason Todd Is Touch Starved, Devotion, Jason Is A Munch, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Yes Greek Gods Wear Boxers, Enthusiastic Consent, “Will it fit?” I’m Sorry Okay, Size Kink, Jason Todd Has A Big Dick, Gentle Dom Jason Todd, Intimate Sex, Slow Sex, Soft Sex, Aftercare, Cuddling

Word Count: 6081

Author’s Note: Jason is loosely based off of Thanatos from Greek Mythology/Hades (the game). It was kind of hard infusing his personality with the literal personification of Death, but I hope I did a good job! Also some details are completely made up or changed for the purpose of the fics, like how dying works in Greek Mythos. Please don’t come for me, I’m just trying to be horny on the internet. Without furthermore, please enjoy :)

Actually one more thing I have a Thanatos/Death playlist and I adore it to bits, please listen if you want.

Thank you @toruslvt for beta-reading!

He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

"Yet another brush with death." You heard a husky voice beside you, making you turn your head to look at the figure sheepishly. 

Whether you’re extremely unlucky or just unfathomably reckless, he’s not sure. All he knows is that your soul has been on the edge of being his over and over again - whether it was narrowly missing a car or falling into a river or even just choking on a bone. You always seem to make it out of those situations just fine, which has thoroughly caught his attention. 

 "You should really be more careful, you know." He looked at you and sighed. 

“I am! Or at least I try to be...” You murmur timidly, scratching the back of your neck. “It’s uh, it’s nice to see you again.” You give him a small smile, turning your body to face him. 

As always, he’s in his dark cloak, the hood lifted to conceal some of his hair, casting a shadow over his face. The gold accents adorning his body glint due to the faint sunlight casting through your kitchen window, the same sunlight making his tan skin glow, making him look otherworldly - which he was. 

He raised his eyebrow, “Is it now? Most people are terrified to see me.” He muttered, smirking a bit,

“I guess I’m used to you now.” Your grin gets a bit larger, warmer. “You don’t have your scythe.” You point out.

He lets out a slight chuckle at your observation, “Such a keen eye. I figured I wouldn’t need it, and I was right. What was it this time?”

Your face heats with embarrassment at the question. “I slipped.” You confess, pointing to the puddle of water on the ground. “Almost cracked my head open, I guess. But! I turned my body in time, so I’m fine.”

“Yes, that would explain your wet clothes.” His eyes trail down your body, catching slightly where your nipples peek out against the damp fabric, before looking back up to your face.

He clears his throat, “Haven’t you learned your lesson by now? It’s not even lunch time yet and you were on the brink of death. Aren’t you afraid of dying?” He scolds you.

“I mean, not really.” 

A pause of silence.

“What? You’re joking, right? How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“I don’t know, it doesn't seem so bad. It’s a natural part of life. Should I be scared?” 

“What kind of question is that?!” He raises his voice slightly, eyebrows scrunched as he looks at you. “Of course, you should be. Dying isn’t fun. You’ll be dead, trapped in the underworld for the rest of eternity. You should be trying to preserve your life while you still have it.”

“I am, though. I’m not saying I don’t like being alive, I’m just saying, when it happens, it’ll happen. There’s no use being so pre-cautious and anxious all the time.”

He lets out a huff, “You are… certainly a strange one.”

“In any case, I’d like to think my soul will go to Elysium. I'm a pretty good person, so I think the afterlife won’t be too awful for me.” You continue on, carefree.

"That isn't my point, though. Even if you're guaranteed a place in Elysium, you should still be more vigilant.”

“Why should I be? My end is already predetermined, isn’t it? Don’t the fates know when my time is up?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“Wait, then how come you visit me before I actually die?” You interrupt him, a realization suddenly taking place. “Near death experiences shouldn't summon you right?”

He hesitates a bit, caught. "You’re correct… I visit you on my own accord.”

“Why?” You tilt your head cutely, an innocent and puzzled look in your eyes.

“You’ve just caught my attention, is all.” He looks away. “I like to keep track of you, the Fates are wrong sometimes, and you basically have a death wish so I just… I like to make sure you’re okay.”

You smile slightly at his words, “You don’t want me to die?”

“Of course, I don’t. I like- I like to watch you. You’re interesting to me.” He chooses his words carefully.

“I am?” Your eyes brighten a bit at his words.

He turns back to you and nods, his hood shifting a bit with his movement, revealing a bit more of his hair. The white streak catches your attention. 

“I have to confess it’s… cute the amount of trouble you manage to get yourself into. It’s entertaining to see what you get up to, how you treat others, what you desire out of life.” His eyes move to look into yours. “Your mentality is quite unique, as well. You see dying as natural and not something to be feared, but I think you've accepted it to an… abnormal degree." He paused. "...You're the first person in a very long time to not express fear of me.”

“Why would anyone be afraid? You're only doing your job... and you're quite nice." 

He laughs, the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to your knees. "I think you're the first person to ever call the God of Death ‘nice’. You wouldn't believe the amount of people that fear me, even before their time is up. It's... exhausting, really. I can always hear their prayers, their cries, their pleads.”

"I mean I can’t blame them, I just can't share the same sentiment, especially with all the conversations that we've had."

He smiles at you, “You really are like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice to know that someone doesn’t hate me.” He pauses again, a soft look in his eyes. “But you should still be careful. You're not made of rubber after all. Don’t let me take you earlier than I should.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

“What?” In such a short time, you’ve shocked him again.

“I wouldn’t mind dying knowing that you'll be the one waiting for me.” You say it so casually, continuing to smile at him, as if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone’s ever uttered to him. His heart beats a little faster as he stares down at you, stupefied. 

“You can’t mean that.” He replies after a while. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He’s speechless, dumb-founded. How could he possibly begin to explain that the idea of anyone liking him enough to allow him to take them from this world so happily was absurd?

“What?” You ask, noticing his sudden silence. “Why’s that so strange? I like talking to you, and when I’m in the afterlife you would keep me company, right?”

He lets out a breath and smiles a bit, the whites of his teeth peeking out behind the pink of his lips. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sound appealing.”

“Good.” You smile a little wider, your eyes crinkling as it makes his heart begin to race now. 

“I-I should get going, there’s uh- souls I need to get to.” He stutters out.

“Yeah, that sounds important. I should clean up with water. I’ll see you around uh… Mister Grim Reaper, sir.”

He lets out an amused huff. “Jason. Just call me Jason.”

“Will do.” You jokingly salute him, and it makes him let out another chortle. 

“Alright, farewell then.” He nods, before blinking out of your kitchen. 

You stare at the space he used to occupy for a bit, still smiling softly, before leaving to get a mop - and maybe a change of clothes.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?” You ask him, raising an eyebrow as you stare at him from the couch. 

“Yes.” He replies simply, his eyes and attention focus on the movie playing on your TV.

His visits have been more and more frequent lately, ever since the conversation the both of you shared in your kitchen. Now, Death, who prefers the name Jason, shows up even if you didn’t go through another life-threatening event. 

And right in this moment, Jason is standing in front of your couch, entirely enraptured by Pretty Woman, of all things. 

“Don’t you have to do your duty? I’m sure there’s a lot of lost, wandering souls right now.” You try again, concerned. 

“What? You don’t want me here?”

“I didn’t say that!” You put your hands up in defense. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble or something. Won’t Hades or the Fates or… whoever your superior is get angry?”

“Probably.” He shrugs. “But what are they going to do? Kill me?” He casts you a glance from the corner of his eyes, before going back to the movie. “Besides, souls can’t leave the mortal body without me being there. They’ll just rest for a bit, I can always come get them after.”

“I guess that’s fine then.” You sigh out. “Could you at least sit down?” 

Jason lets out a nod, before moving to the couch, taking a seat beside you but still keeping his distance. 

He watches the rest of the movie in silence beside you, enjoying your company. His eyes flick over to admire you a few times, taking in your immersed gaze and noticing the way you’re clutching a plushie so close to you (cute). When you sniffle, when a few tears trail down your face, when your parted lips form a pout at the ending, his heart pumps hard in his chest. 

This was a much better use of his time. 

“You have so many books.” Jason states, his figure crouched so that he could properly read all the titles. His hood is off, fully revealing his soft, dark hair - the white streak a beautiful contrast. 

“Who’s the observant one, now?” You chuckle from your place on the bed, eyes not leaving the novel in your hands. 

He rolls his eyes, “What are you reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” You hum softly, eyes still scanning the page. 

“What’s that about?” Jason asks, walking away from the bookshelf and towards you. 

“Uh, it’s a little complicated.” You murmur, “But basically it’s two people learning to get over their, well, pride and prejudices to fall in love.” 

He lets out a hum, “Read it to me?” 

“Oh my Gods, you’re so lucky, I just got to the best part.” Your eyes watch him as he lays down beside you on your bed, the fabric of his black cloak pooling around his body. 

“Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: ‘In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression.” 

Jason turned to his side in order to get a better view of you. He watches how your eyes practically light up as you read, a smile gracing your face. He can’t help but think how pretty you look like this. 

“She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. UGH, it’s so romantic!” You yell out, clutching the book to your chest and rolling back and forth slightly, making him let out a chuckle at your antics. “I mean at this point in the book I still hate Darcy but Gods, the way it’s written is just so good!” 

He falls silent for a bit, his gaze affectionate as he watches you. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You stop your giddy reactions, looking at him curiously. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you remember when you said you wanted to be with me in the afterlife?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

He took a deep breath. "Let's say... let's just pretend for a moment, that when you die... I don't guide you to the afterlife. Instead, I take you somewhere else with me."

You sit up slightly, pushing yourself up on your arms, turning your body to face him. “Where would we go?” You set your book aside on the nightstand. 

“To… my home. I have a residence on the outskirts of Tartarus. You would be safe there, I can make sure that nothing would bother you.” He sits up fully, grabbing and holding your hands gently. “Please, I want you to stay with me. I get so lonely, and I just- I like being around you.” His tone is soft, pleading and sincere as he confesses his desires to you.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling softly in that way that he’s come to adore. “I’d like that.”

“Really?” He gasps out, face mirroring yours as a bright smile overtakes his features.

“Mhm,” You hum, “It’ll take some time, though.”

He shakes his head, hands gripping yours a bit tighter, “I would wait the entire rest of eternity for you, if I had to.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to not make you wait that long.” You giggle out.

“I’d hope not. I want to have you with me, I want to keep you around until the end of time itself.” 

“I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me, Jay.” Your tone is light, teasing. 

“There’s a catch though,” He pauses, hesitant to see your reactions. “You won’t be able to leave the house or see anyone else. I can’t risk you getting found. B-but I get you anything you need, I can make you happy.”

“That sounds just fine to me.” 

His eyes glisten in happiness, a bright shine in them. “Then... it's settled. I will take you to my home, and you will stay with me… forever.” His glances down to your lips for a second, before quickly looking back into your eyes. 

You notice the movement, heart beating a bit faster.

“Could I kiss you?” He whispers, his voice low and warm. 

“Yeah,” You mumble back.

He leans in closer, hands releasing yours as one places itself on the small of your back, pulling you closer to his body as the other gently grips your chin. He leans down, tilting your head up until he feels the soft press of his lips to yours. Warmth floods his body as he feels electricity in the air, and he feels his heart pound behind his ribcage when your own arms wrap around his neck.

Your touch, your taste, was addicting. You were tender and sweet, and Jason never wanted this moment to end. He groans when he feels your hand begin to play with his hair, and he presses himself closer to you, both hands moving to grip your waist. 

His grip tightened on you as your kiss intensified, his body started to tremble as it filled with a desire so deep that it was all-consuming. 

Eventually you break apart from him, needing air. He dismays at having to pull away, but allows you to do so.

"If that's what's waiting for me at the end of my life, maybe I do want to die sooner…” You joke, breathless.

He groans again, “Don’t… don’t say that. Don’t tempt me, I can’t take it.” He presses his forehead to yours, both of your breaths mingling together.

You giggle, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him again. He relents easily, his heart skipping when you hum softly against his lips, the desire in his body igniting higher and higher. 

Eventually, he’s the one to pull away, his breath tickling you as he trails his nose against your neck. He can feel the soft tremor in your breath as your body shivers against his. “Can we go further?” He murmurs into the skin.

“Yeah, I want more.” You nod.

“Good, I do too. I want all of you.” He begins to press his lips to your neck, lightly leaving kisses and bites that you have squirming and gasping. 

“You have me.”

“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “You... you don't know how much I've been longing for you. Your presence alone gives me joy. Having you touch me… it makes my heart pound and my body melt. The way you talk, the sounds you make... it’s perfect. I want to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to know everything about you. I want all of you.”

“You can have that too…” You sighed out. 

“You drive me crazy.” He groans, leaning close again to kiss you deeply, caressing the sides of your body. He wasn't holding back anymore. He couldn't. He wanted you so much that it ached in his bones. His hands started sliding slowly but surely, caressing your back and waist. He couldn't get enough of you, and your body’s twitching and the sound of your heavy breaths was such a thrilling sensation that he was consumed by it entirely.

“Jason…” You pant out his name as you experimentally grind your body against his, whining when you feel his hard cock rub against your clothed cunt, your hands holding him tighter. 

The sound drove him crazy with arousal, his body wracked with longing. You felt so good and he couldn't help but lean into you more, allowing you to press against him over and over and over. The feeling of heat was flooding his entire being, his cock throbbing beneath his cloak.

He worships the feeling of you grinding against him for a few more moments, his breath coming out in husky pants before he rolls you onto your back, hovering above you. 

"Just be a good girl and let me do all the work, now." His voice is husky, needy, as he leaned down and kissed your neck again, his breath hot and his body trembling with anticipation. 

You whine again, rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sudden ache between them. Your eagerness spurs him on, he presses a peck to your cheek before sitting back on his knees to gaze down at you. 

“Gods, you’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hand slips up your shirt a little, and he shivers at the instant warmth of your skin. “Can I take this off?”

You nod rapidly, quickly pulling off your top and tossing it aside, revealing yourself to him.

Jason responds by leaning down to litter kisses over your body, a flush on his cheeks. His lips are soft and reverent almost as they softly touch your heated skin. He takes your nipple into his mouth sucking slightly, as a hand comes up to tweak and roll the other one. 

“Jay…” You call out his name, your back arching slightly,  and he never wants to stop hearing your voice. 

“I got you, princess.”

He lowers his mouth, trailing down your body until he reaches the hem of your bottoms. “Can I take this off, too?” 

“Do anything you want, Jay.” You breathe out, head dizzy with your need.

“You sure?” He asks, fingers hooking into both your pajama pants and underwear, dragging them down your body, uncovering inch after inch of your naked body. 

You look like a dream under him, eyes blown with lust, lips parted, body bare for him as you nod. He sets your clothes aside, going back to relishing you. 

You look away softly from embarrassment, “You take off your clothes, too…”

Your shyness got to him and he could help but laugh softly. You were so cute. He took a step back and off the bed, pulling off his cloak. He could feel your eyes watching his every movement, could feel your eyes rake his form as you settled on the bed. 

His gold adornments drop to the floor with a ‘clunk’, quickly followed by his black trousers. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You softly praise. You can’t help but to stare at him, eyes lingering on every sculpted muscle or coloured scar of his frame. 

He couldn't help but feel like you were the beautiful one. The way your eyes traveled over his body made his heart beat fast. He felt like he was on top of the world, knowing you admired him.

He climbs back onto the bed, taking his place between your legs as he lays on his stomach. His hands come to grip around your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

“Oh.” You gasp slightly at the intimate position, gulping as your blood pumps faster through your veins. 

He slides a hand down towards your cunt, already slick for him. A thumb parts your swollen lips as he gently glides it up and down, before pressing it against your sensitive bud. 

“Ah-” You moan oh so sweetly for him, hips twitching as he starts rubbing your pretty clit. Your body was so responsive to him, and it makes a grin break onto his face. 

He brings his thumb away, making you frown before replacing it with his mouth, lips wrapped around the nub. 

“W-wait!” You cry out, hands flying into his hair as you do your best to not buck into his face. He smirked around you, starting to suck despite your call. Your reaction only added fuel to the fire burning inside him, your writhing body and shaky gasps were too much for him to handle. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just let yourself feel good.” He mumbles into your cunt before going back to sucking and lapping at you. He holds you close to his face, his grip firm to keep you as still as he could. 

He groans as you tug at his roots, the sound vibrating around your needy clit. Your desperate moans and whispers drove him crazy. He liked how fast you were breathing, how much you were moving. You were a squirming, twitching mess underneath him as the sensation became too overwhelming.

“Jason, oh my Gods.” You gasp.

“I’m your only God, now, right? Just me…” His hand moves to your fluttering hole, slowly pressing two fingers inside you. They slip in easily with how wet you are, dripping your desire down his wrists. He feels you clamp down on them, slick walls sucking him in further.

“Jason, Jay!” His name slips from your lips like a chant, a prayer wrapped in shallow breaths. 

“Keep saying my name just like that, pretty girl.” He loves the way you make it sound, loves the way you say it. Not Grip Reaper. Not Death. Just Jason. Your Jason. 

“Oh, Jay…” You breathe out his name like you’re struggling to even think.

“You’re such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He coos, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. He smirks when you squeal as he curls his fingers up, pressing against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you. His arm moves to keep you down, pinning your hips to the bed as he goes back to tasting you.

“N-not there!”

“Why not? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“It’s too much!” You’re breathless, barely able to gasp out replies as he keeps abusing that spot inside you. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Jason slows his pace, fingers dragging painfully slow against your aching, slick walls, making you let out a needy mewl, clenching on him. 

“No! P-please don’t.” You pout, softly tugging at his head to turn his attention fully on you. 

“Say my name. Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate a bit, pondering your words. “Make me feel good, Jason. Make me cum.” Your tone is so soft and pleading, it’s the best worship he’s ever heard. 

The only prayers he’s ever heard were cries for his absence, beseeching his very being and purpose, but with you - he’s found a new one. You want him, you want him closer, you want him to make you feel bliss. He can do that. He’ll do anything for his most devout follower, he’ll worship you twice as much as you ever could him. 

He dives back down with a fervor, thick fingers working you quickly, the soft squelches increasing in volume and frequency. His tongue traces your clit, sucking and rolling and indulging in the way you writhe and whimper below him. 

He keeps going as you squirm uncontrollably, as your body tenses further and further, as your eyes glaze over and your heart pounds. Your nerves are frayed and begging for relief as the soft warmth of his tongue doesn’t let up. Your grip on his hair tightens, making him grunt low and husky into you. 

“Jason, m’gonna… can I please-?” You can barely make out full sentences, head fuzzy and blood searing as the dam inside you threatens to break. 

“You don’t have to ask, just do it.’ He murmurs; his cock throbs in his garments, waiting for you to release on his tongue. 

The feeling overtakes you, making you choke out a shaky cry as you climax. Your thighs squeezes his head, fingers buried deep into his dark locks as you tremble. You’re lightheaded and breathless and euphoria has settled in every inch of your veins. 

Jason removes his fingers, gripping your thigh as his mouth slots against your leaking cunt as he engulfs his tongue into your taste. He greedily laps up your slick, moaning as it blooms over his tongue - more sweet and addictive than even ambrosia. 

Your cries are so adorable as he continues to seek out every last drop of cum from you, your body pliant and weak below him as you keen and mew. 

“J-Jay…” You stutter out his name as your body twitches, sensitivity kicking in. 

“Yes, love?” He barely pauses to utter out those words, mind set on devouring you whole. 

“C-can’t!” He frowns, giving you one last lick before pulling himself away from you.

His eyes are filled with a feral like need, mouth smeared and shiny with the aftermath of your arousal. “Did that feel good?” He husks out, “You looked so divine, cumming.’

You’re panting hard under him, mind dizzy as you process his words, nodding in reply.

“I want to make you feel that way for the rest of eternity, you’ll let me right? You’ll stay with me?” Now that he’s had you, he doesn’t think he can survive on his own anymore. 

“Y-yeah, Jay.” You nod again, voice small. 

He raises himself up, licking you off his hand before he crawls over your body again. His legs slot between yours, tangling the both of you together. He leans down, sighing out in satisfaction as your damp, warm skin presses into his. 

His lips brush over yours, silently asking for permission to kiss you again. You accept him willingly, hands drifting to hang loose around his neck as you push your lips to his.

He groans, hand gripping your waist and the other running through your hair as he explores your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, spit mixing together as he groans into your lips. 

He pulls back, both your breaths lingering in the small space between your faces. He trails his nose down to the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth dragging lightly across the flesh. 

“I want all of you, so bad.” He groans. “I’ll do anything for you. Can you tell me I’m yours?”

He so desperately wants to belong to you - to know that one day you’ll accompany him in the deepest pits of Tartarus - that you’ll never let him be alone again. 

“You want to be mine?” Your tone is puzzled, words ending in a lilt. 

“Please.”

You smile, hands coming to hold his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. “Who knew the God of Death would be so needy?” You tease.

“You try being alone and hated since the dawn of existence.” He sighs, melting into your touch. His eyes close, leaning into your palms. 

You giggle a bit. “We can be each other's.” Your lips break out into a grin as you bring his face down to yours, pressing pecks all over. 

He relishes your kisses, letting out a deep, happy sigh. His cock is still painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he tries to ignore it. He opens his eyes and brushes your stray hair behind your ears, slightly damp with your sweat. 

“Jay,” You murmur his name, pulling back to look at him, “I want more.”

“More? You want me to eat you out again?” His mouth salivates at the thought of having your taste on his tongue again. He’ll do anything you ask. 

You shake your head, thumbs rubbing along his cheekbones, “I want you to fuck me, Jay.”  

“You do? Are you sure?” He whispers. 

His breath hitches as you nod, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. 

“I wanna feel you, Jay. J-just go slow, I’m still sensitive.”

“You’re sensitive?” He huffs out an amused breath, smiling softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You try to press your thighs together, getting excited by his promises and husky tone. He feels your legs shift around his, smirking as he takes in your desperate body language. 

He shifts back again, tugging his boxers down. Your eyes trail to his now exposed cock, standing proud and flushed and daunting. 

He’s…. big. 

Your jaw drops a little as you take him in, your mind reeling with thoughts of “Will it fit?”.

“Hm? Don’t worry. I said I was going to take care of you.” Jason murmurs, voice adoring. He positions himself back between your legs, hands lifting your legs to encourage them to wrap around his waist. You willingly follow his guidance. 

His hands come to hold your hips steady, hips canting forwards to rub the head of his cock through your folds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” You reply softly, hands drifting to lay on top of his, gently grabbing his wrists. 

He pushes inside of you, pace steady and measured as he tries his best to let you adapt to him.

“Ohmyfuck…” You slur, words mushing together as you feel him stretch you out. You grip him a bit tighter. 

“Just relax, pretty girl.” He mutters, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down. He continues pushing himself inside you, making you feel every ridge and detail and inch. It’s slow and deliberate; he’s savoring watching the way your cunt sucks him in, the way your head tilts back, how shallow and quick your breaths have gotten. “Can you feel it? Am I too big for you?” He teases, eyes shining with both mischief and affection. He pushes forwards again. 

Your pussy flutters around the girth of him, slick pouring out with every second, making the process that much smoother. 

You try to take deep breaths, groaning softly as you feel the way he bullies into you, nestling deep inside. 

“S’it in yet?” You hiccup.

He chuckles softly, you were just so endearing. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of you. “It’s not even halfway yet, baby.” He coos. 

“S-still?” Your eyes widen a bit, as he laughs again.

“Just lay down and take it, princess. I’ll do everything, don’t think about a thing.” He leans down and silences your whimpers with a kiss. His lips lock onto yours as he swallows your moans, moving his hips until he feels you flushed against him. 

He pulls back, body once more shadowing over yours. His eyes drift down to where the two of you connect. “Look at that, she took me all in. I told you that you didn’t need to fret, love.” 

“A-ah, it’s so deep…” You mumble. 

“Isn’t it?” He grins. 

He starts to move back and forth, instantly groaning at the intoxicating sensation of you wrapped warm and snug around his pulsing cock. 

He keeps his pace slow, staying true to his promise. He doesn’t mind though, he’s just relishing in every little detail of you, burning the memory of how you look, feel, and sound into his mind - a treasure for eons to come. 

You’re moaning uncontrollably, hands moving to grip at his biceps, nails digging slightly into the skin. He grunts, liking the shark twang of pain that shoots through his body. 

He can feel you clamping around him desperately, like your body needed more. You’re so wet and sloppy, he can feel your slick smearing on his thighs with every thrust. 

“Feels s’good, baby.” He groans, and immediately he feels you clench on him again. “Did you like that?” He grins. 

“Uh-huh,” You nod dumbly, eyes unfocused as whines spill from your throat. 

“My pretty girl likes it when I praise her, huh?” The next words flow from him easily, he’s venerated you so much in his mind already that the flattery comes easy. He wants you to know exactly what you make him feel. “You’re so fucking perfect for me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” 

Everytime he bottoms out you can feel him in your throat.

“J-Jay…”

Your bodies blend together, waves of pleasure overtaking you both with each long stroke. You can feel every inch and vein and crevice of him pushing against your sensitive walls. 

He continues speaking. “You make me fall apart so easily, my love. I want to give you my everything. I’ll be at your disposal from now on, you can do whatever you want with my body, as long as you stay by my side.” His tone is deep, dripping with lust. “Your pretty pussy takes me so well, it’s like you were made for my cock, yeah?”

A shiver of arousal runs through your body at his speech, lower body getting hotter. You feel like you’re surrounded by lava, melting and wound tight all at once. 

“Your body is so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to touch you; I want you only for myself.” His hands lift your hips up a little, his cock pressing inside even deeper than before, making you let out a yelp. 

He’s hitting every good spot inside you, knocking the breath from your lungs even with his sensual pace. You feel constant spurts of warmth pouring out of you, and you notice just how soaked the mattress is beneath your shivering body. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?”

“S-so much, Jay,” You whine out, clutching him harder. 

“Good, I want to be the only one that can make you feel like this.”  

Each rock of his hips gets you higher and higher, dangling on the edge of release. The glide of him is so smooth and sweet as he drags against you.

“M’gonna cum, Jay.” You sigh out, voice high and whiny.

“Good girl, go on and soak my cock. Show me just how much you’re enjoying this.” 

A few more more moments and you’re letting go, gripping his biceps hard as elation sinks deep into your bones. A sob of his name escapes your parted lips, body tingly and twitchy as endorphins rush through your veins. He groans as he feels your slick walls convulse around him. His grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he pulls out, his cum instantly spilling onto your stomach. Relief floods his system as he pants hard, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

The both of you bask in the afterglow of your climaxes, the soft sound of breathing drifting on the heated air. Jason thinks you look divine with your hair spread on the bed, his seed marking your skin as sweat glistens your body. You think the view of him above you, satisfaction prominent on his face, is just as sacred. 

When Jason’s body settles he gently slides out of you, smiling apologetically at your small wince. He goes to your bathroom, having memorized the layout of your house from all the times he’s visited you. He returns with a damp towel, mournfully wiping his traces off of you. He throws the rag into your laundry basket, crawling beside you in bed and pulling you into his chest.

“How ya doing, princess?” He whispers into your hair.

You give him a small, happy hum in return, scooting yourself even closer into him. 

"You're so soft," He mumbles, nuzzling into you. "This is where I want us to stay, for eternity. Nothing else, forever."

“That sounds perfect, Jay.” You reply, yawning slightly. 

Jason’s smile grows even wider, his arms tightening around you. He looks down at you with an adoring gaze, your warm and tender body slotting perfectly against his. "There is nothing, and no one in this world that I want more than you, my dearest."

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

requested tags: @a-deadbeat-fucking-valentine @in-som-niyah

[elementroar]

Analysis of Paracelsus' initial bloodlust and its longlasting effects on A.B.A (Part 2)

Analysis behind the backstory and personal story arcs of A.B.A. and Paracelsus (part 1)

So this actually started out more of a 'funny' post, but I realized that it really is a very important insight into how A.B.A. and Paracelsus function and interact, especially for his earlier days in XX/Accent Core +R

And I wasn't joking about the vore. It's not in the erotic sense...but it certainly is in the 'literally eating parts of your partner ' sense...

Also apologies for the long word dumps, it got wordier and longer than I expected.

Paracelsus (used to) REALLY love blood

It goes without saying, Paracelsus really loves blood. Well he used to anyway.

By STRIVE, he says he felt he lost his sanity whenever he gets hyped on blood in the past. To the point, he has sworn off blood (and violence) as if it was an addiction. Basically, he has managed to go clean sometime between their last appearance and STRIVE.

To not go too far into his backstory again (which you can read here), Paracelsus is a magical axe that fed on blood and increased his own power with blood; and would use warriors as hosts to cause more bloodshed and thus gain more blood and power for himself. Paracelsus doesn't need to 'eat' blood to survive (he was left host-less for about 20 years, and now abstains in STRIVE and is just fine), making the addiction metaphor seem to be accurate.

Back in XX/ACCENT CORE, he needed to drink fresh blood to transform into his superpowered Moroha mode (this is mechanically replaced by Jealous Rage mode now). Similar to his current gameplay, he could get blood and transform by A.B.A. piercing someone with his bladed end; or if A.B.A. fed him one of three blood packs she'd have on her.

He reacts pretty much like a dog getting a treat, anticipating it when she reaches into her pockets for a pack too. And he truly didn't care where the blood comes from, even if it's from A.B.A. herself.

A.B.A. coughs up blood and all Paracelsus wants to do is have a taste. Note that he barely actually reacts to her or himself getting hit or fighting in the old games. It's kind of a stark contrast to his many reactions and concern for her wellbeing now.

Make no mistake, despite being "kinder and gentler" than how he treated his previous hosts - by not completely mind controlling her into a frenzy and caring enough that he doesn't want her to die - Paracelsus was truly obsessed with drinking blood still, and all the fighting skills and power he imparted on A.B.A. was to make her strong enough to defeat opponents and gather blood for him too. Hence the 'manipulation' he felt guilty of in STRIVE.

And he gets even more bloodthirsty in Moroha mode aka what Paracelsus is without his 'sanity'.

You're the worse you when on blood

Prior to STRIVE and Paracelsus' current sludgy form, his powered-up form gave him a goat's head and his persona changes into that of his old berserker self.

This increase in aggression and bloodlust also affected A.B.A. through their empathetic bond, making her also take joy in violence and also clearly hyperventilating and tweaking out in some animations, like she's high.

Not to mention that to fight in this mode, every time Paracelsus makes a successful attack, A.B.A. also gets damaged (hence 'Moroha' mode as it means 'double-edged'). In-universe, this could mean that Paracelsus is sapping both the blood of an opponent and A.B.A. at the same time, indiscriminately as he says.

And he seems somewhat crueler in this form, as he has an even more violent and vicious state above Moroha mode called Goku Moroha mode. He enters it by consuming another blood pack, but he also seems to bite down on A.B.A.'s hand without a care and holds onto it while he transforms.

The impact of all this on A.B.A

Picking up Paracelsus was truly a double-edged sword/axe for A.B.A. On one hand, he was older and savvier about the outside world (even though he spent like 20 years just rusting away on the ground somewhere) and having him as her emotional support key and literal weapon led her to actually daring to explore the outside world, and he provided and (attempted to) advised her on things she didn't know about.

On the other hand, Paracelsus' satiating his bloodthirst was still his main objective, and it was also hurting A.B.A. Although Paracelsus was making some effort to not outright get her killed, A.B.A's additional resilience as a homunculus probably also helped her survive take being Paracelsus' host as long as she did.

Paracelsus was the original toxic element in their relationship, and it's likely over the years he's come to realize and regrets the harm he was doing to A.B.A. constantly, and why he has completely sworn off blood and violence entirely by STRIVE.

However, his bloodlust fueled and amplified the worse tendencies of A.B.A. from early on, and this seems to have stuck with her till the present in STRIVE. Her current extremely violent reaction when feeling jealousy or anxiety is likely how she's been conditioned to do so by Paracelsus, even when he himself is no longer the source of that bloodlust.

The difference now is that A.B.A.'s new powered-up state of Jealous Rage is mainly fueled by her wrath and fear instead of Paracelsus' bloodlust. Paracelsus becomes sludge now, affected by the toxicity of her unstable emotions going haywire and her will becoming decidedly dominant over his. The one who is toxic has become inverted.

What's more, it seems that the skills Paracelsus imparted on her before also carried over and stuck with her, allowing her to fight independently since Paracelsus isn't trying to encourage her to violence this time. She's become so dominant that she now can even force a new form/transformation onto Paracelsus when she does her Overdrive The Law is Key, Key is King while in Jealous Rage.

In the game files, this red form is called the "Hyoui" form, meaning 'possession'. It being red is interesting because it seems to be a callback to Paracelsus' moniker of being the Sanguine Gale. The concept art also shows the pretty disturbing way he's being morphed into it by A.B.A. when she does the Overdrive.

When in her Jealous Rage mode, the bottom half Paracelsus' where his axe blade is, somehow becomes more axe-like than it ever has been in the games. In the earlier games, his blade half didn't change, only his head does into the goat-head. What's more disturbing is that eyes already started appearing on the axe half even while Paracelsus tries to maintain his original face as much as possible.

When executing the Overdrive, A.B.A. swings with the axe half as the sludge pulls from Paracelsus' face to form this new toothed red axe head. Is it a new persona? Is Paracelsus still conscious in his face half or in the axe half at all? Does 'possession' have double meaning where A.B.A. is possessed by her own wrath, but also Paracelsus is now the one being possessed by A.B.A.'s will into forming the red axe form?

The interesting thing too is that A.B.A. executes the Overdrive with precise strikes, liked a skilled warrior. IMO, at this moment A.B.A. ironically became the exact kind of warrior that berserker Paracelsus would have wanted and caused him to even revert back into that primal early form of his that was barely sentient. They gained perfect synergy for the attack, but both are literally out of their minds.

What started this post

Just a funny thing but the reason why I even thought of, and then looked into all this, was because of A.B.A.'s biting of Paracelsus at the top of the post. I was wondering why Paracelsus doesn't say a word of protest when she does this to him, then remembered that he used to kinda drink her blood (and turns out he too has bitten her before), and I think he's prolly thinking "I deserve this".

[kazzsbrekker]

things i liked and didn't like about tog2 under the cut (after watching the movie once, this morning)

what i liked

the opening action scene! reminiscent of the comics, great character moments and dynamics, especially joe and nicky being silly, nile being badass on the boat, copley being part of the team

joe and nicky in general; they got to be their own characters and be in disagreement but they were also sweet and flirty and worked together in sync and affirm their bond for us

nicky's very pronounced italian accent

tuah as an addition to the team! he had good chemistry with the characters and i like the idea of an archivist immortal

nile being a badass. she got her own new weapon and looked hot doing it. AND she got to do the sao paolo 1834 move

quynh my love. my queen who has suffered more than jesus. fantastic portrayal by veronica ngo (shoutout to the breathing sound in the boat scene before they open the iron maiden)

"what if she doesn't recognize me" / "what if i don't recognize her"

immortal wives. could mention every moment between them, they mean so much to me. and now they're a unit again and it felt fitting despite their changed dynamic and history

in general, a lot of introspective and emotional andy moments i enjoyed, also her conversation with booker was beautiful. and her finally admitting she can't go first hit me hard

fight choreography was solid and really fun, nile's new weapon, andy's axe of course, especially joe kicking a guy onto nicky's sword like,, get it

that scene of andy walking through rome. CHILLS. she's so old and has seen so much and that was a gorgeous representation of that, especially when it culminated in quynh waiting for her there

what i didn't like

the new lore. none of that shit made sense and it didn't even line up with the first movie. i don't mind that it departed from the comics but i feel like there was some mamma mia 2 level of gaslighting when they told us andy lost her immortality when nile stabbed her. SHE HEALED FROM THAT. she stopped healing after the church fight scene, THAT'S when she was stabbed in the shoulder (again). and considering that in the case of booker and quynh, the wound not closing was instantaneous, it just doesn't add up. then the whole thing about the last immortal. i like nile being important and special, that's my girl, but discord was an awful addition to this cast of characters (as was to be expected) and none of her lore drops were adequately explained or made sense in the movie. maybe i need to rewatch but idk how they transferral of the immortality worked

that brings me to the dreaming (basically same complaint as above but it was getting too long). i'm trying to explain all this through nile not dreaming about discord because she's mortal now and only dreaming about tuah when he got stabbed because she only notices/realizes that's it's an Immortal Dream when something traumatic happens (such as quynh drowning) but it doesn't add up with none of the others knowing about discord and tuah for centuries.

everything about discord. fuck off. quynh should have been the main and only antagonist and we don't need uma thurman with unclear motives

0 emotional resonance in the third act. none of that hit i can't even put my finger on it but it just felt unearned. even the setup with the joenicky conversation didn't sell me on the weight of it. boring setting for the climax that has no relevance to the characters. i love these characters deeply and have thought about them every day for 5 years, i should feel more when they are in danger and when they.well

BOOKER DYING. a character death can feel earned and make sense even when it's sad. but this was just bullshit. suicidal character finds a way to kill himself yay! hope he and quentin coldwater reunite in the heaven of done dirty sacrificial depressed characters

cliffhanger. you can't do a movie like that and then bank on a sequel, you just can't. not with the production delays and keeping everyone waiting for 5 years. we're not going to get a third movie, i know netflix. they should have given us a real ending with potential for more

nile was underused as hell. sure she got the last immortal title but we deserved more of the literal protagonist. how does she feel at being 6 months immortal. how does she feel about her family. how does she feel about whatever discord is talking about. how does she feel about anything

the camera work. i'm not sold on all those shaky little zooms. it doesn't fit the mood of the film imo. also the cgi in the boat scene was uhhhh questionable

conclusion

not good. still love the characters and i loved seeing them again but i wish it was under better circumstances. and i assume that i won't get more. justice for my immortal family

[thehoneycrypt]

Idk how the logic works for the Hanks becoming tiny whenever they do their stunts but I like to think either Skylar shapeshifts a hank gliding suit for MC or the Hanks already prepared a hank gliding jumpsuit for MC that matches theirs

99% sure that objects can change size at will (i.e. front dorian and tiny dorian being the same dorian) :> but for the hanks' adventures specifically, i'd think skylar is responsible for making you tiny so you can be the same size to them so she's likely preoccupied with not ripping the universal fabric so the hanks prep a jumpsuit for the MC <3 we have multiple options for said jumpsuit colors, but the hanger symbol MC gets is the velvet heart hanger!! the closest jumpsuit i can picture (cuz i cant draw...) the MC having is hank 5's!

as for colors- as previous anons have suggested- the jumpsuit would be either white-pink-yellow or yellow-pink-blue to resemble skylar and to stay out among the hanks (the pink being the hanger symbols)! or it can be the missing color of the rainbow, ORANGE... hank 1's jumpsuit is YELLOW TO ME....... and orange means matching with hank 4 (my fav), whose jumpsuit has orange accents. so orange-pink-light purple (lilac, lavender) would be the suit colors :] (god, this is one of my fav sprites of 4 LOL)

beyond the jumpsuit, for MC's whole outfit, they get light purple full-hand gloves like hank 5 (who doesn't have a match in the OG hanks) with tiny hanger symbols to match hank 2, similar boots to hank 1 but the hanger symbols are hooked like on hank 3's boots, similar overlayered straps to the ones around hank 4's legs, and maybe have hear clips like hank 3 <3

the hanks get clarence's help to make MC's jumpsuit because he's the only fashion-adjacent object (but amir pitches it to make sure the fabric is perfect for MC).... if anyone draws this jumpsuit, tag me and i'll give you a part of my liver <3

[thezombieprostitute]

The Trap

Summary: Kraven brings you to your new home.

A/N: Reader is big, tall and female.

Warnings: Coercion, Dub/noncon, Kidnapping, Mild violence, Smut, Stalking. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous

Trilogy Masterlist

Leaving the library for the night has you more on edge than usual. This morning your car wouldn't start so you have to take the bus, walking to the nearest stop as the sky is getting dark.

The feeling of being followed had come and gone several times over the past few months. Most likely it was your generalized anxiety disorder. But part of you can't fully shake the idea that you're being hunted.

Maybe you should get an Uber or Lyft to take you home but the bus, with other people to witness if something happens, feels like the safer option. Doesn't hurt that it's more affordable as well.

The bus stop is already occupied by someone. A tall man with dark messy hair and a beard. He seems distracted by a book and you're not about to change that. Instead you keep checking your phone for the time, trying to wait patiently for the bus.

"Um, извините? Excuse me?"

The man who had been reading was slowly walking towards you, holding his hands to indicate he meant no harm. He's quite handsome and, if you weren't so on edge, you might smile and look forward to talking to him. As it is, the librarian in you can't turn down someone who looks like he needs help.

"Y-yes?"

"Спасибо," he sighs, seemingly relieved as he brings his palms together in a gesture of thanks. "Я не---I mean...I don't know if...if this is right авто---right bus?"

"Oh, which one are you looking for?" The man's accent is strong and your heart softens. You can't imagine the difficulties of being lost and unable to speak a language you're not fluent in.

"двад---Twenty?" he asks, his face etched with helplessness.

"Do you have a, um, a..." your hands mimic the opening and closing of a book.

His eyes widen in understanding and he pulls the bus schedule out of his jacket pocket. He opens it up and you lean in just close enough to get a better look at it.

That's when you feel a pinch at your neck and the world goes black.

Your sleep is restless. You keep dreaming of wild animals, of your body being on fire. Yellow-orange eyes staring at you.

When you do wake up, you're not sure if you're still dreaming or not. You're naked and everything around you has this feeling of skewed familiarity. Nothing is what you know of your apartment, but everything looks like things you would have, color choices you would make.

The urge to explore gets quashed by the pain in your body. Like the room, the pain feels familiar but different. It feels needy? Your brain latches on to that word. Your body is burning, like when you're painfully horny, can't find release, but far more intense.

What is happening to me? you think, still wondering if you're in a dream.

"Glad you're awake." Looking to the source of the voice you see the man from the bus stop. He's shirtless and your mouth waters at the sight. "Do you like the place? I made it just for you."

"Who...who are you?"

As he moves closer your body starts to burn even more. It's like he's the only conduit for your release and your body is begging for him. Your brain can't stop thinking about getting railed by him. He places a hand on your cheek and you lean into it, whimpering at the temporary relief his touch provides.

"I am Sergei," he coos. "And we are mates."

"M-m-mates?"

"You can feel it, can't you? I sensed you and my entire being knew you were to be mine. I gave you a small dose of the drug that made me what I am, it'll make it easier for you to carry our cubs."

"C-cubs?"

Sergei leans down and gives you a gentle kiss that has you aching for more.

"That is what mates do, my Lioness. Can you tell me you don't want me to fuck you full of them?"

You let out a lascivious moan at the thought of being filled by him. A small part of your brain knows this is wrong, that you shouldn't want him. But the animal he's awoken in you is hungry, needy.

Without thinking, you grab the back of his head and pull him down for another kiss. It's fierce, wild, sloppy.

Sergei moves to lay on top of you but you surprise him by rolling, forcing him onto his back as you settle on top of him. Your hips are moving, pussy grinding against his clothed crotch.

"Fuck, that's it," he growls. "Let me take my pants off."

"Not yet," you snarl back at him. "Not until I get some relief."

You meet each other's eyes in a contest of wills but you don't back down. He moves his own hips in time with yours and you break as your head lolls from the pleasure.

Sergei takes the opportunity and rolls you onto your back, his body pinning yours down. His mouth is on your neck, biting and sucking on the skin. His hand goes between your bodies to undo the button on his pants.

It's a struggle because you're scratching up his back and trying to push him so that you can be on top again. He tries growling at you to behave but you respond with a snarl and pull his head back by his hair before giving another frenzied kiss. It catches him off guard and he's pushed onto his back again.

You break the kiss and crawl down his body, eyes never leaving his. You pull his pants and shorts off of him and smirk at the fact he's fully erect.

Sergei pushes himself up from the bed and tries to force you beneath him again. The two of you are a mess of growls, bites, scratches as you struggle for dominance.

When he pushes his cock inside your dripping pussy, you both keen in pleasure. The struggle for dominance continues, but it's less fierce as you're both caught up in how good, how natural it feels to be connected like this.

You cum with a scream and Sergei moves you into a mating press position.

"Going to fill you up," he growls as he continues pumping his cock into you. "You're going to have my cubs, like a good mate." Your pussy pulses around him as you lift your hips to accept his seed and cums with a roar.

Tears stream from your eyes as you catch your breath. He kisses your temple. "My mate. Forever."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @iwudbutnah; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly; @theinheriteddutchess

[class1akids]

At first I was touched by the blue t but then I realized, wouldn’t that get mixed feelings from the japanese public especially the families of touya’s victims?

I love the light blue accents and how the whole costume reminds me of Vol 30 cover.

I think for sure there will be people who criticize Shouto for it, but then again, he's in the public eye and will be criticized for whatever he does, whatever he looks like, a lot of things he has no control over.

I feel like reclaiming this particular shade of blue, deliberately incorporating Touya's memory into his outfit is owning the past. That was always Shouto's theme from the Sport Festival. No matter how hard or embarrassing it was, he always faced the past - his own and his family's - he processed it, and took the parts he wanted.

I think honoring Touya's memory this way can change the meaning of that color and also remind people what Touya could have become if he was not abused (a lot of Touya hero au designs incorporate this blue T into his hero suit).

I feel like it also rhymes a bit with Shigaraki's "it depends". Shouto wearing this doesn't let himself forget that there are people out there - both like Touya - hurt children who grow up to be someone like Dabi who lash out in anger and maybe it gives him the motivation to work day and night, to be involved in charity, and to speak about his experiences in lectures.

And I think it's also maybe honoring Touya who felt like his existence was meaningless and he wanted to destroy to give it meaning. Shouto stopped him from doing that, but maybe this way he can give Touya's existence a different meaning.

I think initially it must have been hard for Shouto, but it's clear from Ch 431 and the Fanbook that the public gradually accepted him, came to love him and trust him. I think he's a very important example to be openly a hero related to a villain, coming from a messy, toxic family. I think he can be an inspiration to a lot of people who are in similarly hopeless situations that who they are born to doesn't define them.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

A couple of requests

"And this is our red witch?"

You were yanked out of your ordinary environment. You were yanked out of your house. And where were you teleported exactly?

Crawling out of fire was never a pleasant experience.

"Agatha!…" Fuck, you were getting angry. "Agatha!…" You could feel fireball forming in your palm.

"Hey! Is Harkness the only one who deserves your attention?"

You turned around as quickly as you could. That voice was familiar. That tone was close.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Out of the trees silhouette emerged. not even a second, a fleeting instant - you recognized her immediately.

"You've got something on your shoulder." Shoulder, really Rio? You shrugged, too close to your neck.

"Don't."

Oh, you didn't sound confident, Rio noticed. Rio smirked. Of course she did. Centuries you were apart and she still could read you like an open book.

____

"Did you miss me?"

You almost jumped. You forgot whether it was voice of your nightmares or dreams.

Well, the voice sure was as sultry as you remembered it to be. Not only that. You remembered all too well her obsession with a very specific silhouette, with open skin, with accent on her arms.

Rio knew you were looking at her. You were thinking about her.

You tried to keep your eyes focused on her. But it didn't work. Suddenly you stopped.

"Why are you here?"

You didn't allow Rio to get closer. Golden was your protective halo.

"Because of you." Rio was always straightforward. Even after all these years. "Not that easy to track you down. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the affort with the cover and protective spells. Clearly you were thinking about me, baby. Just not in a way I want it."

___

"I'm fine."

Of course, you were not. Your clothes was wet with your own blood. Shard of glass was bigger than you thought. And sharper, clearly sharper.

"I could…"

"Jen, I'm fine."

You let others move faster, you let them out of your sight. Potions were not good enough in this situation. You couldn't heal yourself, the only other option was… no, it wasn't an option.

You couldn't focus on the road. Pain was too much, tension was too much, moving was too much. Your own body wasfinally betraying you. You groaned.

"I definitely like this sound. But not in this circumstances."

Rio appeared just in time to help you keep the balance.

"I'm fine."

You were not strong enough to fight her hands on you.

"Yeah, I already heard that."

You leaned against Rio's shoulder. You didn't want to owe her anything. You were close, dangerously close.

Not now, not after everything. You were losing yourself on the road. You almost closed your eyes.

It was enough for her to barely wave a hand. Wound disappeared in an instant. You inhaled sharply and immediately pushed Rio away.

"You shouldn't have done that." Your whisper hit her harder than any trial. "It doesn't change anything."

"I know."

___

This coven was the worst thing you could imagine. Lunatics, has beens, humans, teens. But the worst thing - your ex-lover. You forgot at what point fucking death was a good idea.

Of course you were flooded with memories, with emotions, with tingling in your body. Fuck. You hated it here. Road was never even supposed to exist. You were not sure what spell chose you, but sure as hell Rio influenced it.

"We need to move quicker. Do you understand the meaning of this word." Agatha's voice was annoying as ever. You praised gods for living without her disturbance for so many years. Nothing was fine, while Harkness was around.

"Thief." You muttered. "What did you say, dear?" Lilia was close. Semblance of a companion at least. You bond appeared such a long time ago. "Nothing". You caught Rio's glance. Thief would be a too generous word for Death.

___

All the walking, all the fighting, all the arguing. Those witches were everything but the coven. Still rest andfire were universally accepted. Stories of the old glory were never part of your routine. You needed a practice of protections spells, you needed to think.

The last thing you wanted was to be a part of the old memory between women who hated each other. You tried to change path, but everything was too loud, as if the road itself amplified the voices.

"You took him!"

You've never heard Agatha like this. You yourself caused many cries of agony, but this one was different.

"He was never even yours." how did Rio manage to stay calm and distant?

"He was always mine, I created him."

"You cheated. And you know you cannot cheat me."

That was true. You were cursed while trying to do exactly that, while trying to live a life of pretended normalcy.

___

Of course you knew about history between Agatha and Rio. You were jealous at first. Even of the memory of them together.

But Rio managed to calm you down. You met ages after that affair. There was no reason for you not to believe she was yours. After the fight with Agatha something changed. Rio wasn't with you anymore. On her own she was wondering the woods,for brief moments appearing during vital moments.

You knew this Rio once, not for long.

"You're letting Agatha have all the fun." You didn't have to cheer her up. But… you cared. And it was betternot to upset death itself.

"More fun for her, more bodies for me. It always worked that way."

"Even with Nicholas."

Silence was awkward and not welcomed. You sat near her.

"You were the only one who refused this deal."

"And still you stayed."

Painfully soft. Painfully obvious. Painfully full of affection.

"It wasn't enough, was it?"

"It was always too much."

Of course, it was. It was Rio, all about Rio. Even now she wanted to grab you, to possess, to devour. You could practically feel the struggle in her mind. But she chose to be tender.

[andromeda-pleiades]

Just Trust Me

WORD COUNT: 3,536

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Hi sorry it took me a little more than a month to come out with the next chapter I was writing another story and broke up with my boyfriend. ●﹏●

Also someone has the strongest accent in this chapter sorry

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

You tried calling your sister first, then an old friend, but no one answered. Your calls went straight to voicemail, leaving you staring at the screen in frustration. It only reinforced what you already knew—there was no one else to turn to. With a reluctant sigh, you pull up Kyle's contact.

You: I need help. I don't know who else to turn to.

The dots appear and disappear for what feels like an eternity before his response finally comes.

Kyle: What's going on?

Your fingers tremble over the keyboard. You don't know how much to say. If you tell him everything, will he even believe you?

You: I think he's tracking everything I do. I feel trapped.

A longer pause. Your stomach churns. Maybe he's trying to find the right words. Maybe he doesn't believe you.

Kyle: Are you sure? Simon wouldn't just do that without a reason. Maybe you're overthinking.

Your breath catches. Doubt creeps in, but you shove it down. No. You know what you saw.

You: I'm sure.

Kyle doesn't immediately agree to meet. Instead, he hesitates, his messages measured and deliberate.

Kyle: Look, I get that things might feel off, but maybe you're just stressed? Simon cares about you.

Your fingers tighten around your phone. Gaslighting. Whether intentional or not, that's what it feels like.

You: Kyle, please. I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't sure.

A long pause.

Then, suddenly—

Kyle: Let's meet. We'll talk in person.

Kyle suggests meeting at a diner just outside town. The drive there is nerve-wracking, each passing car a potential threat. When you finally see his familiar face—casual, steady, a tether to the past before everything fell apart—relief washes over you.

"You look like you haven't slept for days," he murmurs as you slide into the booth across from him.

You let out a dry laugh. "Haven't had much reason to."

He signals for the waitress, ordering coffee for both of you before leaning forward, voice dropping. "Tell me everything."

You do. Carefully at first, testing the waters, but soon the words tumble out faster than you can contain them. You tell him about the tracking software you discovered, the notes detailing your daily movements, the control tightening around you like a noose.

Kyle listens, his expression shifting between concern and something unreadable. "You were right to reach out," he says when you finish. "Simon... he's always been intense, even before all this."

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know what he's capable of, but you have to understand, it's not just about control for him. Simon was made into what he is. Task Force 141 doesn't recruit soft men. It shapes you, sometimes into something you never wanted to be."

You shift in your seat. "That doesn't excuse any of this."

"No, it doesn't," Kyle agrees, his eyes meeting yours. "But it explains it. His past, everything he's been through—it broke him in ways neither of us will understand. And Price..." He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "Price was like a father to him. More than that. He was a guide. Simon respected him more than anyone. And what Price taught him? Control means safety. For himself. For the people he cares about."

You frown, stirring your coffee absently. "You make it sound like he's protecting me."

Kyle gives you a small, sad smile. "Maybe, in his mind, he is. That doesn't make it right."

A strange pity coils in your stomach, unwanted but undeniable. Simon—ruthless, obsessive Simon—was once just a man looking for structure, for someone to follow.

You shake the thought away. It doesn't change what you need to do.

"When the ten days are up, I have a place," Kyle says suddenly, lowering his voice further. "A safe house. You can come there. No strings. No Simon."

Hope flares in your chest, but something nags at you. Kyle's hands are steady, his words reassuring, but there's something about his delivery that feels... rehearsed. Too perfect.

You ignore it. You have to. He's your only chance.

"Okay," you whisper. "I'll come."

Kyle smiles, a little too quickly. "Good. You won't regret it."

You stand at the doorway, watching as Simon secures the last of his gear. His movements are methodical, efficient—just as they always are. The weight of his presence lingers in the air, suffocating even as he prepares to leave.

"I'll be back before you know it," he says, pulling on his jacket. He steps toward you, cupping your face with a gentleness that still makes something inside you ache. "I love you."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to nod. "I love you too."

The words taste like ash now. You watch from the window as Simon's car turns the corner and disappears. But you don't move yet. 

Instead, you pull out the small leather-bound notebook you bought three days ago, flipping to a fresh page. Your handwriting is tight and cramped as you note down the time of Simon's departure and what he said about his return. *"Six days until Simon returns from alleged conference. Will prepare to leave on day four, heading to Aunt Marie's cabin in Vermont."* This last part is a lie—Aunt Marie doesn't exist, and you have no plans to go to Vermont. But if Simon or anyone else finds this journal, the false trail might buy you precious time.

You list each suspicious detail methodically: Kyle's hesitation when you first contacted him. His immediate attempt to rationalize Simon's behavior. The way he knew so much about Price without you telling him. The convenient timing of the safe house offer.

Closing the journal, you tuck it into the hidden pocket you've sewn into your jacket lining, then double-check the locks, leaving the front door bolted as you slip out the back. You take the long route through side streets, keeping to the shadows, doubling back twice just to be sure. Only when you're certain no one is following do you head toward the meeting spot where Kyle waits.

Kyle's safe house is tucked away in a remote area, but the moment you step inside, unease prickles at your skin. It's too exposed. The windows aren't reinforced, and the locks seem flimsy—if Simon wanted to, he could be here in minutes.

"Not what you expected?" Kyle asks, watching you closely.

You force a tight smile. "Just... getting used to it."

But the lie sits heavy. Every instinct screams that this isn't far enough, isn't safe enough. You need to disappear completely.

You notice dark clouds gathering on the horizon as Kyle shows you around. "Looks like a storm's coming," he comments casually, glancing out the window. "Cell reception gets spotty out here when it rains. Power too, sometimes."

The words send a chill through you. Isolated. No communication. No witnesses.

That night, when Kyle steps out to take a call, you see your chance. His laptop sits on the table, screen dark. He's always cautious with it, rarely leaving it unattended. This might be your only shot.

Hands shaking, you ease into his chair and lift the screen. Locked. Of course. But when you press a key, it flickers to life. He must've forgotten to log out.

Your pulse hammers as you scan the desktop. Most files mean nothing to you—until you see it.

Price_OpSec

A chill rushes through you. Price. That name again. You click on the file, but a password prompt stops you cold.

You're about to give up when you notice a folder labeled "Surveillance." Your fingers hover over the trackpad, hesitant, then click.

The breath leaves your lungs as images fill the screen. Photos. Dozens of them.

You. Going to work. Shopping at the grocery store. Meeting friends for coffee.

And then—your heart nearly stops—Simon and Kyle. Together. Not in old photos from their military days, but recent ones. In one, they're sitting at a café, heads bent close in conversation. The date stamp is from just two weeks ago. In another, they're standing outside your apartment building. Kyle is pointing toward your window.

Before you can think, your phone buzzes.

Simon: I love you.

A second message follows.

Simon: Don't forget to double-lock the back door. It sticks sometimes.

Ice floods your veins. That's something Kyle told you about the safe house. The house Simon shouldn't know you're at.

Your breath quickens. The room spins. Your fingers dig into the table as the walls close in. Was this all planned? Is Kyle feeding Simon information? Are you running in circles, trapped no matter what you do?

You quickly take photos of the screen with your phone, hands trembling so badly you have to try three times to get a clear shot. You close the folders, returning the laptop exactly as you found it just as the first raindrops begin to hit the windows.

You clamp a hand over your mouth, stifling a sob as your chest tightens. The air feels too thick, your lungs too small. Panic claws at your throat, sending you spiraling. You trusted Kyle. You needed to trust him. But now... now you don't know if you can trust anyone.

Your mind races, desperate for a foothold. What if Simon has been ahead of you this whole time? What if every move you've made was predicted and accounted for? Your vision blurs at the edges. The betrayal you feared most wasn't from Simon—it was from the one person who was supposed to help you escape him.

You press your forehead against the cool surface of the table, forcing yourself to count. One. Two. Three. Your fingers dig into your arms, grounding yourself. But the tremors in your chest refuse to subside. Every interaction with Kyle replays in your mind, now tainted with suspicion. Every reassuring word, every careful gesture—was it all an act?

A sob threatens to break free, but you swallow it down. Kyle wouldn't betray you. He couldn't. You remind yourself of the boy you once knew, the friend who had your back when no one else did. If he's acting strangely, it must be because of what he's seen, what he's done—they've changed him, made him cautious, secretive.

You shake your head. The evidence is right there. The photos don't lie.

You can't afford to break. Not here. Not now. Not when you might be running out of time.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to breathe through it. Think. Think.

There's still a way out.

There has to be.

The storm arrives in full force, rain lashing against the windows as thunder rolls overhead. The lights flicker once, twice, then go out completely. The safe house plunges into darkness.

"Power's out," Kyle calls from another room. "Stay put. I'll find the flashlights."

You sit frozen, your mind racing. This is it—your chance. In the darkness, with the storm masking any sound, you might be able to slip away.

Pulling out your journal, you scribble one last entry by the light of your phone. *"Kyle definitely working with Simon. Found photos. Heading to Vermont tonight. No other choice."* You leave it on the table, open to that page—your final decoy.

You don't sleep.

The hours drag by, your mind cycling through every interaction, every misplaced word, every look Kyle has given you since this began. You should have been more careful. But now, standing in the dim light of the safe house, phone clutched tight in your trembling hands, you have only one option left.

You confront him.

"How did Simon know about the back door?" Your voice is steadier than you expected, but the weight of the question hangs between you like a drawn blade.

Kyle looks up from his seat at the small kitchen table, brow furrowed. "What?"

You hold up your phone, screen illuminating your face. "Simon texted me about locking it. That's something you told me, not him. So how did he know?"

Kyle leans back, exhaling slowly. "Come on, you know how he is. He gets in your head. He's probably trying to mess with you, make you doubt everything." He gestures at your phone. "You think he wouldn't guess how paranoid you'd be about the locks? He's playing you."

You shake your head. "No. This isn't a guess. This is something specific, Kyle. Something only you mentioned."

His expression hardens. "So what, you think I told him? You think I sold you out to Simon? After everything he's done? After everything I've risked to help you?"

Your stomach churns at the way he flips the accusation back onto you. Doubt creeps in, whispering that maybe you are overreacting. That maybe Simon really is just messing with you. Kyle's been your friend since childhood. If you can't trust him, then who?

"I don't know what to think anymore," you admit, voice cracking. "I just—I need the truth."

Kyle runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "The truth? The truth is Simon's got his hooks so deep in you that you're seeing shadows where there aren't any. He's always done this, hasn't he? Made you question yourself? And now you're doing his work for him." He leans forward, tone softening. "Look, I get it. You're scared. But you have to trust me."

The words scrape against your raw nerves. Trust him. Like you trusted Simon?

You sit down slowly, trying to steady your breathing. "Then tell me about Price."

Kyle freezes. It's barely perceptible, but you catch it.

"What about him?"

"Simon listens to him. I keep hearing his name, but I don't know who he is."

Kyle exhales, rubbing his hands together. "Price is... not what you think. He's just some old war dog Simon admires, someone he learned from. But he's not pulling strings here." He looks at you, eyes careful. "That's why you need to stop panicking. If Price is involved, it's just another layer to this, not the end of the world. We need to be smart."

You hesitate. Everything in you screams that this isn't right, that you should leave. But Kyle is so convincing, so steady. And deep down, there's still that part of you that doesn't want to believe he'd betray you.

"So what do we do?" The words taste like surrender.

Kyle relaxes slightly. "I have a contact. Someone outside Simon's reach. They can keep you safe, but we need to move."

Every alarm in your mind blares at once. Another move. Another safe house. Another place where Simon might already be waiting.

Kyle offers you a small, reassuring smile. "I promise, this time, it'll be safe."

You swallow your fear and nod. You want to believe him.

But as you gather your few belongings, you slip a kitchen knife into your pocket. This time, you won't be caught unprepared.

The storm intensifies throughout the night. Rain hammers against the roof, and wind howls through the trees, enclosing the safe house in a wall of water and sound. The power remains out.

Kyle's restlessness grows as the hours pass. He paces, checks his phone repeatedly despite the lack of signal, and keeps glancing out the windows into the darkness. The small space forces you to remain in close proximity, every movement amplified in your hypervigilant state.

"We should get some sleep," he says eventually. "Big day tomorrow. I'll take the couch. You can have the bedroom."

You nod but have no intention of sleeping. As soon as Kyle settles on the couch, you begin your wait, counting the minutes until his breathing deepens.

Three hours later, with the storm still raging, you make your move. The journal sits conspicuously on the kitchen table, your false plan clearly visible. Your real bag—small, containing only essentials—is hidden under your jacket.

You ease the back door open, wincing at the soft creak. The rain is instant and merciless, soaking you within seconds. But the downpour masks any sound you might make as you slip into the darkness.

The forest behind the safe house is dense and unfamiliar, branches whipping your face as you push forward. Your phone's flashlight offers minimal guidance, the beam swallowed by the thickness of the storm. You know there's a road about a mile east—if you can reach it, maybe flag down a passing car...

A flash of lightning illuminates the trees ahead, and in that split-second burst of light, your blood freezes. A figure stands twenty yards away—tall, muscular, with a distinctive mohawk now plastered to his scalp by the rain. He hasn't seen you yet, but he's scanning the woods methodically, one hand holding a flashlight, the other clutching a walkie-talkie.

You duck behind a large tree, heart hammering against your ribs. Through the sound of rainfall, you catch fragments of his voice:

"Na visual yit... Grid search in progress... She coudnae hae gaen far... "

The walkie-talkie crackles with a response too distorted to make out, but the mohawked man nods, then changes direction, moving across your path rather than toward you.

"Copy that. Circling back tae th' creek. Over. "

They're watching you. Tracking you. How many cameras are out here? How many eyes?

You wait until the beam of his flashlight disappears among the trees before moving again, this time in the opposite direction. The undergrowth tears at your clothes, mud sucking at your shoes, but fear drives you forward.

Another lightning flash reveals a steep embankment ahead. You slide down it, half-controlled, half-falling, coming to rest in a shallow ravine. Above you, the storm continues its assault, but here, partially sheltered by the high banks, you have a moment to catch your breath.

The respite is brief. A beam of light sweeps the ravine, and you press yourself against the muddy wall, praying the shadows are deep enough.

"Ah ken ye'r doon thare ," a voice calls out, eerily calm despite having to shout over the storm. "Thir's nowhere tae go. Th' road's blocked. Th' river's flooded. Juist come oot noo, 'n' no one haes tae git hurt."

You remain motionless, one hand gripping the kitchen knife in your pocket. The beam sweeps back and forth, methodically searching every inch of the ravine.

"Simon's worried aboot you," the voice continues. "He juist wants ye safe. Ye ken how dangerous it's oot 'ere." 

The light stops moving, fixed on a point just feet from where you hide.

"Last chance."

You hold your breath.

Footsteps approach, sliding down the embankment. The mohawked man lands heavily in the mud, his flashlight beam dancing wildly before steadying again. He's close now—close enough that you can see that he is Soap the man Simon brought to your home a few weeks prior, the same soap from the texts.

"There ye are," he says, spotting you at last. His lips curl into a smirk as he raises the walkie-talkie. "Target located. Southeast ravine. Movin` tae secur”.

Your fingers tighten around the knife.

He reaches for you, confident, unhurried. "Let's nae mak' this difficult."

You don't think. You move.

The knife flashes in the beam of his dropped flashlight as you lunge forward. He reacts with military precision, blocking your arm, but your momentum carries you both backward. You fall together, landing hard in the mud, his greater weight driving the air from your lungs.

His hand clamps around your wrist, squeezing until your fingers go numb. The knife slips, embedding itself in the soft ground beside you.

"Stupid move," he grunts, pinning you with one arm while reaching for the walkie-talkie with the other.

Desperation lends you strength. You twist violently, driving your knee upward. It connects, and his grip loosens for just a second—enough for you to wrench free and scramble for the knife.

Your fingers close around the handle just as he lunges for you again. You roll to the side, and in one fluid motion, slash outward blindly.

A howl of pain tears through the night. Soap staggers backward, hands pressed to his face. Blood seeps between his fingers—dark, almost black in the dim light. You've caught him across his left eye.

"Ye bitch!" he screams, lunging forward blindly. But his footing is compromised, his vision obscured by blood and rain.

You don't wait. You clamber up the ravine, soil and rocks giving way beneath your desperate grasp. Behind you, the man is still shouting into his walkie-talkie, his voice ragged with pain.

"She's armed! left th' ravine heading wast! a'm needin' backup! A’M NEEDIN’ BACKUP!"

His voice fades as you reach the top, replaced by the relentless drumming of rain and your own ragged breathing. You sprint through the forest, no longer caring about stealth, only distance. Every flash of lightning guides you forward until finally, miraculously, you see it—an access road cutting through the trees.

You have no idea where it leads, but away is all that matters now. Away from the safe house. Away from Kyle's betrayal. Away from Simon's control.

Behind you, distant voices call out, but they're growing fainter with each stumbling step you take. Soap won't be following—not with that eye. And whoever else is out there, they're too far behind.

For the first time since this began, you feel something close to hope. You're still running, but no longer in circles.

You're finally breaking free.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I wanted to ask if you had any tips on how to make British characters more "believable" (writing accent, slang, etc), since i absolutely adore the way you write your fanfics

English is my second language so I'm already having a hard time with writing but I'd like to improve :)

Ahh, thanks, bud. I'm glad you like it. Firstly, amazing that you write in a different language. I'm in awe. Secondly, my secret is literally being British, I'm afraid; yes, it's a source of great distress. I do a lot of people watching in my day to day life as well, and I'm a bit of a social chameleon in that I can "try on" different presentations to best fly under the radar. Something something survival technique. And I'm not a formally trained writer, so I tend to write how I speak. I use parts of myself to inform the characters (e.g., my Soap is the worst parts of me dressed up in a Scottish accent, asdfg.)

But, if I were to recommend a strategy to get to grips with a range of British accents and dialects? Procedural crime dramas. I know it's copganda, but hear me out.

They're often deliberately close to "average life" because the writers are aiming for gritty realism. You have everything from the posh bird with that box fringe haircut storming out a court room saying, "for fuck's sake, Bradley, I thought you briefed the fucking witness" in the most clipped southern accent while she lights a fag to David Tennant storming around moodily in Broadchurch. You've got more genre shit like Inspector George Gently, Life on Mars, Midsummer Murders, which are a bit more quirky and distanced, but they have Scouse, Mancunian, Newcastle, Bristol, Wales, etc.

As you watch, imitate them. Write out their speech patterns on your notepad to see what letters they drop, how they use connectives, like... I'm studying the Yorkshire accent at the moment. They drop/change "the" and "h" quite a lot; put wood in t'ole -> put wood in the hole -> shut the door. Yorkshire is also part of the Danelaw, and you can see it in their turns of phrase: 'tek n'gorm" -> ignore him or her, as in, take no notice. Gorm comes from the Old Norse 'gaum' meaning 'heed'. It's also the origin of the northern word 'gormless' which describes someone who doesn't pay attention or is stupid/thick.