#THERE IS SO MUCH GOING ON AND YET ITS NOT EASY TO GRASP EITHER

[nok-joke]

Hi may I ask what hyper light drifter is about? I could obviously just search it up but it's more fun to ask the mutual who's obsessed with it

Ooghh YEAH!!!

Hyper Light Drifter is a visually STUNNING top down pixel art game, I like to joke about it being a bullet hell, I've seen some people call it a hack and slash? I'm not sure what categories it falls into but it has fun, pretty fast, but challenging combat

The story is told through the environment, and characters only ever speak to you through images, meaning the only two "readable" texts there really are happen to be monoliths you can find, but have to translate using a cypher thing, or the instructions in the beginning

Essentially you play as a drifter, a type of person in this world who tends to wander and therefore be subjected to the dangers that live in this seemingly post apocalyptic but regrowing landscape, most people call the protagonist The Drifter, but there are other drifters too

The Drifter is plagued by a chronic illness, causing them to cough up blood, which seems to be caused by this looming shadow figured called judgement that appears in either visions or hallucinations

Your goal as the drifter is to explore this land and eventually find the thing that has been tormenting you, and face judgement

Along the way you find remnants of the people that used to live in the north, south, east, and west, and learn what happened to those people. The tragedies that befell them

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Devout

Guardian Angel alternative POV, or Jason Todd is the Arkham Knight, and he can't stop himself from watching you, from clawing his way into the cracks of your life in a twisted, mangled mirror of what he used to be ~3.5k words

CW: Jason commits a few murders, some gore, stalking, some religious imagery for fun

Jason Todd shouldn't be watching you. He knows it's wrong, knows he shouldn't be perched on the shadowy rooftop across from your apartment building, staring intently into your windows.

He knows. He knows. But he's doing it anyway– been doing it for weeks.

You haven't noticed once, so wrapped up in your own life, your peace of mind that no one would break the sanctity of your own home that you don't even consider closing your blinds.

He thinks you should know better. Gotham is tainted– he is tainted– yet you never spare a glance over your shoulder when he follows you down the street, never linger on that sixth sense that screams that you're being watched.

You pick up on his presence on the rare occasion, he thinks. The days you walk home quicker or the nights you actually slam your blinds shut makes him wonder if you do know you're being watched. But then you go back to normal, brush off every sign and every lingering feeling that something isn't right.

It almost makes him angry, sometimes, that you'd be so careless with your safety. But everything makes him angry now. It's a constant, tight grasp in his chest, the righteous fury he has against the world, against the city and its filth, against Batman.

The anger makes him reckless, or maybe he's just cocky. Maybe he wants you to know he's there. Jason doesn't let himself wonder why he does it. He might just be a masochist. He might just miss you. But he opens the faulty window to your living room that he knows squeaks and never quite locks right.

The first time he breaks into– visits your apartment while you're asleep, he doesn't touch a thing. He just takes in everything that's you, cleanses his fractured soul in the space he used to know like the back of his hand. The trinkets that sit on your counters. The paintings on the wall. The color of the blankets thrown over your couch.

He doesn't touch anything the second time, either. Or the third. The fourth time, though, he picks over the photos you keep on your shelves, the books you leave lying around. He moves them, just slightly. Just to see if you'll notice.

You don't. Not really. Not until the eighth time. He doesn't know why he does this either. He just does. He picks up your keys from where you usually keep them and moves them. It's something you can't deny. Something tangible and real and clear, an unyielding truth. He was here. He exists, and he can affect your life, change it with his hands.

(It's the first time he feels like he's truly alive since the asylum, the first time there's more than just revenge and watching you from afar, even if he feels like he's corrupting something that's only meant to be seen and not touched by impure, broken hands)

If your keys being displaced affects you, well, you don't show it for more than a few moments. And that bothers him. You might not know he's here– alive– and maybe he's not ready for you to, but he's still a part of your life, isn't he?

So he gets bolder. He doesn't want to scare you, not really. But he can't help but dig his nails into the parts of your life he can change. It starts simple, innocent. You were annoyed when you left your kitchen, out of sugar, just another thing on top of everything else you have to deal with.

And he wanted to help. Like he used to. It was easy to get a bag of sugar, even easier to sneak into your kitchen. He leaves just enough for a few days, just enough to get you through the week, enough that you'll think you misremembered how much was left.

And he should have left it at that. But he's never been good at doing things halfway, especially when it comes to you. So he fixes your apartment up while you're at work. Makes sure your window doesn't squeak, your shower doesn't rattle, your oven actually heats up. All things he's heard you try to get your landlord to fix.

He makes a note to give your landlord a visit as he's looping the footage in your cameras over, effectively erasing any evidence of who he is.

Honestly, he's proud of you for finally doing something about him, it's just a shame he has the skills to outmatch your attempts to figure out his identity. Not that any pictures of him would do any good. He's still nameless in Gotham as the Arkham Knight, and if he's not wearing a mask while he's easily picking the new lock on your apartment window, his hood and ballcap do the job of hiding his face just as well.

He thinks he could let it go on like this forever, just doing things for you in the shadows, never revealing himself. At least until he's routinely following you home from work one night, and he sees you get tugged into a dark, lonely alley. He recognizes the man that hauls you off the faux safety of the streets, the one that's lifting a shaky hand and a gun to wave it, demanding your possessions.

Murphy is a nobody in Gotham, just another gambling addicted alcoholic that takes work from whatever rouge is paying the most that week. Jason more or less only recognizes him because he lives on the third floor of your apartment building, but it's clear you don't know who the man snatching your things is.

The Arkham Knight resigns himself to stealing your wallet and phone back after you've gotten home, to keep himself out of your sights for as long as he can. That was the plan.

But there's a flicker in Murphy's eyes, a consideration– a passing thought that Jason can't ignore, one he's seen a million times. Maybe it's the idea that he could get more from you, or maybe he's realizing you've seen his face and wants to get rid of any witnesses, whatever it is, Jason isn't going to let it happen.

The Arkham Knight doesn't hesitate to drop himself between you and the gun. He breaks Murphy's arm without even thinking about it, effectively disarming him as he kicks the gun away from him. The sound of his bones breaking is loud, but Jason doesn't register it as something to be sickened by until he turns and sees the nausea and horror written plainly on your face.

Honestly, maybe he should be more disgusted with himself. He's just sent a man into shock, revealed himself to you in a way that's not at all comforting. But he doesn't care. No one was going to save you. No one but him. He protected you, and it's not like Bruce Batman– it's not like broken bones are uncommon in Gotham.

You take a step back. He steps towards you, drawn to you. He can't help it. He shouldn't. But his head is spinning, and he hasn't been this close to you since before the asylum. You look tired, older, but no less beautiful than he remembers.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap at him.

Jason wants to praise you for your bravery, as fake as it is. It's a good tactic, to try and get him talking. He doesn't understand why you look so uneasy of him, though. He got you out of a bad situation, even if he's wearing military-grade armor and a mask that glows in the darkness of the alley, shouldn't you feel grateful? Safe? Happy?

He tilts his head, trying to read you. Would you feel better if he offered to walk you home? "I saved you," he tries, the modulator making his voice sound flatter than he intends to. The Arkham Knight silently curses himself. He should just leave. Should have shot your attacker from the roof without you ever seeing him. He's being emotional now, irrational under your gaze.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," you accuse, eyes darting like you're trying to find an escape in the dead end alley.

He stiffens. Huh. Clever thing. You've always been too smart for your own good. A part of him wants to deny it, pretend he's just some passing good doer in a mask, pretend that he's some kind of knight, an angel here to shield you from harm.

The notion almost makes him laugh, "Have I," he prompts instead with all the air nonchalance. He wonders if you'll drop it then, actually thank him for stepping in and helping you. You don't.

"Yes," You say instead, voice low like it's a secret– a confession, "You have."

Jason finds himself impressed at your stubbornness, if not a little unnerved by your recklessness in confronting the supposed stranger you believe is breaking into your home alone. He has to give you credit for piecing it together, but who else, if not a freak in body armor, would be letting themselves into your apartment without a word just to fix what's broken?

He nods, unsure of what to do. You weren't supposed to figure it out, but you have. And now there's consequences.

The Arkham Knight turns his back to you, making a show of gathering your phone and wallet before standing and facing you again. He walks closer to you, each step measured and calculated. He holds your belongings out to you, a twisted, mirrored version of some kind of sacred offering.

He studies you as you grab at them, trying to tug them from his unyielding grip. There's bags under your eyes. He can practically see your pulse jumping under your skin.

You're less than a foot away, and Jason basks in that distance, how light he feels now that you're only an arm's reach away. He could brush his knuckles over your cheek, dip his head to take in the scent of your hair, kiss the hollow of your throat the same way he used to.

He does none of those things. Because you don't see Jason Todd. You only see a threat, a monster, some kind of demon that clawed their way out of the shadows and cracks that litter Gothams hallowed corners.

He cocks his head, letting go of your wallet and phone while greedily drinking down the color of your eyes in the dim light of the alley, "And if I have?"

"I'll go to the police," You tell him, defensive, and he wants to laugh as you shove your wallet and phone back into your pocket.

"They can't help you," he grits out, and it's the truth. No one knows who he is yet, what his plans are. Even if you told someone, whatever description you give won't be enough to find him.

"They can contact Batman," you bite out, and that does earn you a laugh. You really think Bruce can do anything? That Batman has any chance of standing between him and you? Batman couldn't even find– couldn't even save–

"He can't help you either," The Arkham Knight tells you. He gives into his desire to touch you then, partly in anger that you still believe in Batman and partly because he just misses you. He pats your cheek, but doesn't let himself linger. "Get home," is all he says before he grapples into the night.

He follows you back to your apartment from the rooftops and notes how you avoid getting too close to any more alleys. But, it's not until you're safe in your bed that he goes looking for Murphy– that he goes to finish the job.

The creep's nursing his broken arm in his dingy apartment when The Arkham Knight gets to him. He doesn't make it quick, but it is quiet. (It's difficult to scream when you're choking on your own severed tongue, after all) He brings down fire and fury and vengeance for daring to lay a hand on you and leaves nothing behind but a corpse.

Murphy's brutal death is swept under the rug by the GCPD, which Jason shouldn't be surprised by. Just another mob death, the tiny obituary in the paper reports. You don't even register the death in your apartment building. He doesn't blame you for that. Not when he knows he's scaring you.

He's getting careless, sloppy. He wants you to catch glimpses of him now, he wants you to know he's watching. It's sick. He knows that, knows it so well that it claws in the back of his throat when he breaks into your apartment to fix your fan.

He's guilty about it, sometimes. It's a pressing weight on his shoulder even when he's trying to help. So, he redoubles his efforts.

He sneaks into your room and stuffs six hundred dollars into the emergency fund you keep under your bed. He sends you flowers, fills your gas tank, finally visits your landlord, and pays off your rent for the next six months. (He's already bought you a better, newer apartment, he just hasn't figured out how to tell you that)

He knows it's all wrong, but sometimes, he doesn't feel guilty at all. He wants to do things for you, that's not a lie. He wants to do everything and anything you could ever want or ask for.

He starts letting you catch flashes of him outside your window, moves your things around just out of the sheer curiosity of what you'll do. He can't justify that, because it does nothing to protect you. But he does it anyway. The Arkham Knight needs you to know he holds a spot in your life, even if it's not as Jason Todd anymore.

He's getting bolder, much too comfortable. There's times you almost walk into your apartment as he's leaving gifts on your counter, times when you wake up and walk into your kitchen just seconds after he forces himself out your window.

He's going to get caught if it keeps going on like this. But he can't bring himself to worry or care. His plans are coming together, and while he doesn't exactly know where you fit into them yet, he knows he doesn't trust anything or anyone enough to leave you to your own devices once he unleashes his legions upon Gotham and her failure of a saviour.

He never seems to do the right thing when it comes to you, at least not since he came back. But saving you– guarding you against the vile filth of the world– that can't be wrong. He'd do anything to keep you as you are, untouched by all the cruelties Gotham has to offer. It's an unwavering, righteous mission he has commanded unto himself.

It's why he reacts the way he does when three men break into your apartment.

He was late. He always seems to be late when you're involved. He had just finished overseeing the arrival of tanks and men into Miagani Tunnel, just dragged himself halfway across the city for the slightest chance to catch a glimpse of you in your apartment, when he catches sight of it.

Your window– open. You never keep it open. Dread washes down his spine, and when he gets close enough to see the man pointing a gun towards the floor– towards you– he just reacts.

He shuts down, becomes nothing but instinct, and he brings hell on to Earth in your name.

He's clinical. He doesn't hesitate to shoot the man aiming a gun to your head through his temple. If the man were alone, he would have shot the gun out of his hand, but there's two other targets, and he needs to eliminate any threats to your life first.

He climbs through your window with the ease of a man who's done it hundreds– thousands of times. You haven't moved to get up. It concerns him, but he's angry right now, so, so angry he doesn't even consider ending this quickly.

Everyone tries to take something from him. He keeps losing. If he didn't come to watch– see you tonight, he would have lost you too. The very thought makes his vision blur red, his ears ring.

It's not a fight, what happens next. It's a death penalty. The Arkham Knight is a weapon, and he proves it with each hit. He's efficient, brutal, and purposeful with each movement. He doesn't flinch at the blood that splatters on his armor, doesn't stop even when fluids and flesh start to stick to the knuckles of his gloves.

He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, until the only hearts left beating in your desecrated apartment are his and yours.

Then, and only then, does the blood pounding through his veins start to cool. It's only then, does he turn to look at you. He expects to meet your terrified gaze, but you haven't moved, still laying on the floor. It makes his heart clench. What's wrong with him? He just– while you–

He shakes his head, slowly tugging his gloves off and stuffing them into his belt. He walks over to you, kneels carefully to your side, and watches you breathe. He matches the slow rhythm of your shoulders rising and falling, and then he helps you sit up.

You're responsive to that, at least. The Arkham Knight presses his hands to your face, waiting for something. He doesn't know what, just anything. Some kind of sign. A message of what he's supposed to do. How he can make this all better.

When you finally open your eyes, they're hazy, not quite reactive. It makes him angry all over again. You got hurt. He wasn't here.

"Saved me again," you murmur, and his throat tightens. He failed you. Yet here you are, spouting words that make it sound like he's done something good.

He runs his thumb over your cheek, savoring the feel of your skin, soothing himself and you as he reassures himself that you're still here– still alive. But you aren't safe.

It's all he can think about. He saved you, but how long until you're in danger again? What if he's not quick enough this time? What if he's not there? What if– what if– haunts him. It weighs heavier than the nightmares that plague him when he finally has to succumb to sleep.

He makes the decision then and there to take you away from here, away from the rot and the fester to some place where it can never touch you again.

He picks you up, cradles you to his chest like you're made of shattered, stained glass and tarnishing silver, but nonetheless precious. You're talking, and he's answering, but he hardly registers what either of you are saying. His mind is working over plans, where he's going to take you, the guards he'll need to recruit to watch over you when he can't, which ones he trusts the most.

Jason only tunes back in when you point out that he could hurt you. It's funny, in a way. After everything he used to be to you, after everything he's done for you, he could still hurt you. He tips his head down to really look at you, the cloudy, exhausted look on your face, the heaviness of your eyes as you struggle to keep watching him.

He can't find it in himself to lie, so, he tells you, maybe he could hurt you. He tells you that he wouldn't like it. (And it's the truth)

Maybe you recognize that, because you drop your head to his shoulder and let your eyes fall shut. The Arkham Knight never wavers in his steps, mapping the path to the apartment he'd purchased in your name in his head. It's not perfect, not filled with everything you deserve quite yet, but it'll do the job for now.

Something in him simultaneously softens and hardens when your breathing goes even and slow against him, and he curls his fingers tighter into your skin. You're weak. Weaker than him. Too naive and too soft for what's going to come.

There's no other fate for you than this now. He'll have to take care of you, protect you from it all, from all the evil that festers in Gotham, even if that includes him.

He lets the mission engrave itself into his heart– into the fabric of his very soul and right next to his revenge. You're going to be safe. He is going to keep you safe, and he'll throw himself into fire to see it done.

[r3starttt]

BLADDER CONTROL

PAIRING: dom! Abby x reader

Her fingers come to grasp at your cheeks, pressing them hard enough to make it sting. her fingers cup into your cheeks and chin, making you look up at her with those eyes she loved so much. you were desperate, everything hurting in a way it made you more aroused. “need to pee…” your voice came out as a blabber, a statement she couldn't care less about right now. "huh?" her thrusts become deeper, harsher. and your eyes close shut- mouth wide open, baby hairs sticking on the sweat dropping on your forehead, an unsteady whine hitting her ears.

Your thighs make a wesk attempt to close around her, but oh Abby knows what she's doing. "my poor girl..." she coos, pushing your head back into the matress to occupy her fingers with something else. She rubs small circles onto hour clit, your pussy now clenching at nothing as the tip of the strap barely grinds over hour hole. "Gotta hold it now baby, you can do that, can't you?" the friction over your wet pussy makes your bladder feel heavy, ridiculously full. maybe it's the orgasm almost building withing you. maybe not. either way it's painful into a way it feels good.

You shake your head endlessly, slipping quiet denials at her wish. Just this time. But Abby's quick to shush you, pressing her hand over your lower stomach as she leans to kiss you. Your knees coming up to your sides just to torture more if possible.

Yes she tastes good, yes the sensation is overwhelming to a point you might cum just by the tension over your stomach itself. But you'd like her to make it longer, not this easy.

So, you whine between kisses. It's sloppy and wet- as everything at this point. And she's so incredibly harsh yet gentle. Abby bruises your skin into the prettiest tones and her dick feels so good along her hands on the back of your knees. Her lower stomach over yours and the strap pressing over the right amout of skin with the right amount of friction. "abby-" You're quickly hushed by another kiss "please- can't" her tongue slides in and your hands come to cup at her cheeks. The strap wet against your slit. “cant what, baby?” her lips abandon yours briefly, taking a proper look of your fucked face.

her cock thrust inside you again. sliding deliciously slow into your wet walls. you clench just right. "mhm? can't take this?" Her lips hover over your jawline before she supports her full weight onto your legs again. dick in and out of your pussy, squelching at your wet. You catch her laughing. "you've been so good" her voice is shaky, out of breath "come on, sweet girl. I know you can take it."

your eyes close shut, nodding before nonsense slip through your lips. Your own nails digging at the skin of your thighs in hopes of pleasing her. But it's impossible. Abby just fucks you so good.

There's a growing warmth on your stomach, you're too full and to weak. and she sounds so good. Abby fucks good. "No- no- I can't... Abby-cant" you almost dig into the skin of her chest, failing to make her stop, find a way out. "It's okay baby, let go for me" you squeeze around the silicone in hopes to hold it, but its kess than a matter of seconds before youre already drenching the fabric beneath you. The sound obscene yet "Fucking perfect. Good girl"

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @levilvrr @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 | - abby taglist: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @bruhhtsukjf @twopeoplee @wastdstime @slut4ellienabby

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part iv]

She's weird, she's creepy, she's a total stalker, and now she's... loitering outside your door...? [part iii]

You paced your living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, teeth chewing the inside of your cheek. You felt like an idiot.

What were you thinking showing up to her house uninvited, banging on her door and shouting her name like a lunatic? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help but feel that showing up like you did had been a mistake. 

The look in her eye when she opened the door haunted you. It wasn’t anger, not really. It was something else entirely. Fear? Guilt? Whatever it was, you hated that look on her.

You stopped pacing for a moment, your arms falling to your sides as you let out a heavy sigh. What was the point of trying to fix things now? You’d probably just scared her away for good. Why did you always have to push things? You should’ve just left her alone, I mean clearly she didn’t want to be friends. 

But then you couldn’t help but wonder: why the hell had she been following you then??

You groaned and flopped onto your couch as your mind raced. It didn’t make any sense. If she didn’t want anything to do with you, why had she gone out of her way to be near you? Why had she constantly stared at you from afar as if she wanted to say something?

None of it added up, and the more you thought about it, the more frustrated you felt. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she wasn’t following you at all, and you’d just misread the whole situation. But… no. The way she’d looked at you when you confronted her, it was written all over her face. She’d been following you. You were sure of it.

“Ugh.” you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. This was hopeless.

Every time you thought you had a grasp on her, she’d do something to throw you off completely. She was impossible to read, like a puzzle missing half its pieces, or a windup monkey without its gears. And as much as you wanted to forget about it, about her, you couldn’t.

Because deep down, you cared. You hated seeing her so… isolated, so withdrawn. And even if she didn’t want to be friends, even if you’d scared her away, you couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t deserve this.

Pushing yourself off the couch, you started pacing again. You wanted to fix this, to figure out some way to show her that you weren’t just trying to bother her. But how? After the way she’d turned you away, what was the point?

Part of you wanted to march back to her house and try again. But the other part screamed at you to stay put, to not make things worse, to wait until she was ready.

But god did you want to see her.

You huffed again. You felt like a stupid teenage girl kicking her feet and hitting her pillows while whining about her latest highschool crush. You wanted to see her, you wanted to see her so bad it was driving you crazy. It was irrational really. She was a total freak. New in town, avoidant, creepy, and frankly, a little bit of a bitch. All negative traits associated with someone you shouldn’t be seeing. So why did you want to so badly? All your alarm bells were going off but it was hard to tell if they were yelling or singing.

Either way, you decided that this time you wouldn’t be impulsive. You’d choose logic over feeling, because obviously that’s what any other responsible adult would do… obviously. Logic over feeling. Rationality over impulse. It sounded easy in theory, but as you sat there, staring at the blank wall across the room, it felt impossible. 

What if she thought you hated her? What if she thought you didn’t care? Or worse, what if she thought you pitied her?

She’d probably slam the door in your face again if she thought for a second you were pitying her. You knew nothing about her yet you couldn’t help but feel like she would be the type.

You groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself. "I'm ridiculous."

You stayed still for what felt like hours, the only sound you could hear being the faint ticking of the clock. You couldn’t sit here forever, pacing between guilt and worry. But you’d already decided: no more impulsive decisions.

…

So why were you halfway to the door before you even realized it?

Your hand froze on the doorknob. You couldn’t go over there again. What happened to all that logic over feeling talk? Before you could scold yourself and retreat back to the couch, a sound from the other side of the door made you pause.

A shuffle. A creak. The distinct sound of someone sighing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you were hearing things. After a short pause you decided that it wouldn’t hurt to just check, for your own peace of mind if not anything. 

Turning the doorknob to quickly open the door, the sight made your breath hitch.

Powder was crouching on your doorstep, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. Her eyes were wide, her hair messy, and she looked just as nervous as you felt.

“You!” You shrieked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"What... the hell are you doing here?" you managed to ask after a long pause, your voice softer this time so as to not freak her out.

She shot to her feet so fast she almost lost balance, quickly tucking something into her pocket. Her eyes darted to the ground as she fidgeted with her fingers. “I don’t- I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t what? Just crouching on my porch for fun?”

She looked back up at you with a sour expression, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. “I didn’t think you’d open the door!” she blurted out defensively.

“It’s my house!” you said, exasperated.

“I know that!” she snapped back, louder than she intended. Her eyes widened, and her voice softened almost immediately. “I just... I wasn’t ready.”

“For what?” you asked, but she didn’t answer.

The air was heavy and the atmosphere was thick as you waited for her to respond. Her lips parted again as if to say something, but instead, she shook her head and spun on her heel, dropping onto the top porch step with a huff.

You took a minute to look at her. Just a couple minutes ago you were telling yourself to stay away from her, and although you agreed, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for her visit. It felt right, y’know, her being around.

Staring at the back of her messily cut hair, you wondered why she’d dropped by in the first place. Two days ago she was shooing you away like a fly, but now, for whatever reason, she came to you this time. You wondered what changed.

You sighed as you followed her, sitting down a few feet away. Neither of you said anything at first, the silence filled only by the far away sounds of the townsfolk heading home as the sun set.

Finally, you spoke first, your voice quieter this time. “You know, you don't make much sense.”

She didn’t look at you, her eyes fixed on the sidewalk below. 

“I know.” she muttered.

“Then help me out.” you said, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “What’s going on here?”

“I... I don’t know.” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to look at her, noticing the way her fists tightened. For someone so closed off, she looked more lost than anything else.

You felt a pang of guilt, and although you knew she'd never stand for being pitied, you couldn't help but feel bad.

“Well...” you said after a moment, leaning back slightly, “whatever it is, there’s no rush.”

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say anything, but the fact that she didn’t immediately run away felt like progress.

‘There's no rush’ the phrase replayed in her head for the millionth time. It was just like you to say something like that wasn’t it? Sweet, patient, so sure of yourself. Meanwhile, she felt like her insides were about to explode.

She hated how much she cared about your words, how they lingered in the back of her mind, how they actually managed to reassure her.

“You’re being too nice to me.” she said finally.

“How so?” You asked, keeping your tone light.

She shook her head. “You just are.”

You groaned dramatically. “You’re so confusing.”

She laughed dryly in response.

After a short pause you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.

“I like being nice to you.” you said simply.

She froze. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I don’t know how to deal with that.” she admitted finally, her voice small.

“Then don’t” you replied. “Not right now at least.”

Powder looked away, blinking rapidly. She stood abruptly. “I have to go.”

You stood too, subconsciously copying her. “Powder, wait–”

She turned to face you, looking at you fully for the first time since you two sat down, before quickly cutting you off. “Here, this was for you.” 

She extended her fist towards you before opening it to reveal a crushed and wilted flower. 

You hesitated before accepting it, it was a cute offer but you were more confused than anything. You stared at it for a second before the sound of her boots rushing down the steps caught you off guard. 

“H-Hold on!” you called out.

She stopped in her tracks, turning her head slightly to look at you through her peripherals.

“Are you… free tomorrow?”

. . .

[Part v]

it wouldve been real fucking funny if i made her trip and fall down the stairs

ANYWAYS THEYRE SO CUTEEE AWWW (i say as i am the one who wrote it)

TRUSTTTTTTT that PART 5 WILL COME A LOTTT SOONER!!!! updating takes me awhile when im not sure how to go about the story BUT I HAVE RLLY CUTE AND FUN IDEAS FOR THEIR HANGOUT SO WRITING IT WILL BE MUCH EASIER!!!

also posting this on my bday is so funny to me like wow life of a teenage girl

[taglist ( ;´ - `;)!!]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed @iamastar @lostdreamingwallflower @errorlovernotfound99 @raven437 @cartalige @poncho-fisch @crushh-existz @slxtcity @jinxslapdog @radioheadfan699 @alduinworldeater11 @dulleyeddreamer @alicenasflowers

[USERS I CANT TAG 4 SUM REASON (◞‸◟；)]

@sacrasm-is-my-form-of-attack @wonylvxv

[xoblondie]

Dark!Mattheo Riddle Headcannons 💋

TW: 18+, stalker, Kidnapping and non-con content

Dark Mattheo who…

Switches up so quickly. One moment he's the soft and loving boy you fell for in hogwarts. The next he's tossing you aside like your a cigarette bud, and stomping you out.

"You're so gorgeous my love." In soft, playful whispers when you wake up in his arms.

To "Get out of my sight you disgusting bitch." Over the tiniest of mistakes.

If you ever try to leave him, he'll make sure you can't ever leave him. Locking you up in his manor, wandless and afraid. And if you ever escaped...

He would have Theo, and his friends on your tail within minutes. His death eaters would have no shame tearing you away from muggle establishments and would dispose of whatever and whoever got in their way. All adorned in those lifeless silver masks, that often haunt your dreams at night. A power move on Mattheo’s part to spread more fear into you.

Or he would catch up to you with ease, taking matters into his own hands when you’ve especially pissed him off. Pinned to the forest floor, with his dirty death eater boot on your throat, threatening your ability to breathe. The old blood caked on them displayed like a portrait of sins, to your struggling eyes.

Yet he’d spoil you any chance he got, with jewelry, new dresses and lacey garments. All to doll you up and show you off to his friends and lower-class men. After all you are his most prized possession and such beauty must be shared with the world.

Dark Mattheo that would stalk your every move, watching you when your out with your friends, not letting you get any “ideas” of leaving him from them. Or letting you talk with any guys that weren’t his group of friends.

Dark Mattheo that would hold a blade to your throat, ignoring your tears and pleas, if you ever disobeyed him. Threatening to harm you if you didn't listen to him and comply with us demands. Who would carve his name into your soft skin, so that no one but him would ever be able to claim you. You were his.

(Omg the power difference!!)

You were never a star pupil at hogwarts, and you had always struggled with wandless magic making it easy for Mattheo to leave you powerless. So Mattheo often wouldn't let you carry your wand with you while in the manor.

"You're much too clumsy my dear, nothing in here would require you to use magic when the house elves can do it for you. I'll keep it safe for you though." When in reality he didn't want you to be able to escape his grasp. Or potentially overpower him.

Dark!Mattheo who makes you sit in on all his meetings, presenting you as a trophy of his. Watching as death eaters eye you up and boats about his prize to them. If anyone spills information you were never supposed to hear, he wouldn’t hesitate to obliviate you. Who cares if it left your brain fuzzy, you were to pretty to use it anyways!

There would be Wards and Spells on the manor that shift your perspective on its layout. Never letting you plan a way out or be able to leave the grounds without Mattheo going with you. The forest around would be worse, a labyrinth designed to trap you if you were to ever escape.

And though he was possessive and manipulative, he was still the same boy he was at hogwarts. Just hidden under the weight of his father’s legacy.

He was often still intimate however, letting you cuddle with him, shower together and share passionate moments. He would take you on romantic dates and treat you like a princess when he knew he had gone too far. (Rather than apologize…)

Sex is either the most passionate and loving experience, or purely hateful. On his good nights, he treats you like you were carved by the gods and put on this earth by them specifically for him. He’d focus solely on you and your needs, worshipping you for hours and just watching you cum over and over again.

“Fuck baby, you’re doing so good for me”

“that’s it baby, just a bit more”

But on his bad nights, he's rough and unforgiving, not caring for your needs or even if you wanted this in the first place. He would tie you down just so you’d stop pushing him away and lick your tears from your face as he forced himself into you.

“You wanna act like a slut then I’ll fucking treat you like a slut.”

“You wanna show off in front of my death eaters, but can’t handle being used by one?”

But in the end, you can’t help but to love his boyish grin or the way his eyes soften as he looks at you. Or the whispered promises of how he’ll marry you one day and leave all of this death eater stuff behind.

A/N: omg enjoy y’all <3 I’m editing this myself so ignore any typos or grammar issues! Also I’m super rusty so send me writing ideas (plz and Ty, I will love you forever)

[maximwtf]

“Should have known better.”

Kinich x Reader

Words: 2500

Google Docs Pages: 4.1

Warnings: Kinich character story spoilers, angst/hurt w comfort/good ending, saurian death?, platonic relationship

Opening: Kinich is not one for strong reactions, even when dealing with bigger issues. But does his composure falter when a pressure point from the past is pressed?

AN// G/N Reader. Tell me why I completely missed out on Kinich lore even after getting him the first day the banner came out :”D ANYWAY now that I’m in the loop, this just had to be done. Likely not going to write for him again, just felt like doing this one. Hehe, anyway I’ll now disappear to work on another Capitano fic ;; (Was excited about that so I'm sorry if the ending of this is ooc and/or rushed)

“Should have known better.”

Tagging along with Kinich while he was on the job wasn’t something you were used to doing often. But on the other hand, you knew he didn’t mind having you there. Company apart from Ajaw seemed to be something he craved every now and then, not that you blamed him for that. Plus, you never asked for any portion of the funds he was going to get for the commissions even after helping him complete it. Simply enjoying the time spent with him, which had been hard for him to understand in the beginning. Why would someone work on a commission for free, only taking his company as payment? But by now, he seemed to not mind whenever you tagged along. 

And it wasn’t like you were completely useless either. A rather seasoned warrior and a fighter as you were, allowed him to get through commissions faster which wasn’t something he’d turn down especially if it was for free. 

The area this time wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Some high cliffs that surely would have frightened the less seasoned, but by this point standing on the edge of one didn’t stir those feelings within anymore. Not even while in the heat of battle, like now. 

Your eyes followed Kinich, hooked onto a saurian after having just gotten rid of one. The pack was rather large this time, having caused so much trouble for the people near the cliffs that they’d asked for help from Kinich. 

Your attention was brought back to the situation at hand soon after. Dodging the saurian’s hook, taking a little more speed into your steps before raising your weapon against it. Eyes keen to follow each step of the creature, making sure the hit would land. But while your attention was occupied, Kinich noticed another one  behind you. An easy target, really. It hadn’t even targeted you yet, so getting it to fall off of the cliff would have been easier than having to spend time on fighting it. Kinich loaded his shot, aiming with practised ease and watching to make sure it hit the creature. Though, as soon as it did the saurian managed to hook itself onto your ankle before the explosion ultimately made it lose its balance. Slipping off of the cliff and into the ravine. Affectively throwing you off of your feet with the heavy pull, quickly starting to drag your form along with it down the steep drop. 

There wasn’t any vegetation to take a hold of, grassy ground with dried bushes and a few flowers. Your hands grasped the ground, digging up dirt along the way. Attempting to kick the hook off of your ankle, but it held on tight. Especially when the saurian was basically dead weight in the ravine. Hanging off of you, making its hold ever stronger.

Your eyes quickly moved to Kinich, aware how little there was you could do anymore. A moment flashing by as pure desperate panic flooded your eyes, no words coming out in the moment. Focused solely on trying to get your body back up as it was actively being dragged into what seemed like the end. But your companion appeared frozen. 

Kinich had but a few moments to react, if even that. Having noticed the hook attached itself and soon after you were already hanging on the edge. Grasping at anything nearby to hold on. But even that feeble moment had been enough to make his mind run a course into a dark pit of memories. 

The young yet such a tough boy who’d been chased out by his father. And by a mere mistake, had watched his by then fragile father stumble. Taking a step back a little too close to the edge of the cliff, and with a heavy thud land on the bottom. 

How his body had frozen just as it had on this day. How his whole body had felt the tremble going through it, something he’d never felt before. A warm pressure at the back of his eyes as his body began to move towards the edge. How he’d seen what remained at the bottom of what seemed like an endless drop, having pulled himself back straight after. Chest tightening by the minute. The young yet such a tough man from then on clutching his small hands into fists. Fighting the tears back down, gritting his teeth as his mind raced. The situation was more of a mess than anything he’d seen before. Yet by some miracle he was able to numb his mind enough to push himself back onto his feet and find a grapple hook to bring his father to proper rest. 

But all that was then. Something he thought he wouldn’t have to ever think about again. Yet the lump in his throat as he approached the edge of the cliff proved him otherwise. But what was he so frightened of? And just then, he heard a thud. Something that echoed for but a mere moment. But a sound that felt like something in him had shattered. No rational thought of ‘I haven’t even seen what happened yet’ was able to ease his mind.  Yet his body felt almost as if it was moving on its own. It had been from the moment he’d watched your fingers slip off the edge. Hurrying there to see what could be salvaged. 

Even if his mind had seemingly decided the fate of the situation, his body hadn’t. He wouldn’t allow something like this to happen again. This was not a way to go, for anyone. Least of all you. 

You felt the ground under your hands slip, the last bit of the cliff giving in under the weight. Falling alongside you and the saurian. The speed of the fall was so frightening you could have sworn your heart stopped beating for a minute, before even the thought of doing your all to survive came to mind. 

The walls of the ravine in certain parts were tight enough for roots to connect from one side to another. Not all of them would support the weight of a human, but a few of the older ones were thick enough to be worthy enough to give it a try. To try and wedge yourself between a pair of them. 

And by a miracle, the Night Kingdom wasn’t going to have you on this day. Not now, at the very least. You’d managed to grip a pair of the roots. Gravel, dirt and smaller rocks trickling down the sides of the ravine at the sudden pull on the old roots. For a moment fearing they would give out like the edge of the cliff had. 

You held your breath, eyes widened. As if even the most subtle movement would restart the fall. Even the saurian had mostly stopped thrashing around, almost like even it understood the gravity of the situation. And if it did, that was a problem. The roots weren’t going to hold up the weight of you and the saurian. It had to go for a chance to get back up to even be possible. 

As soon as the air stilled, confirmed the roots were going to allow you a chance. To watch you fight for your life while hanging off of them by your arms. You started kicking the saurian, wiggling and moving the ankle it was attached to. The hook’s hold had slipped earlier when you’d lodged yourself between the roots, so it was no surprise that the already frightened saurian couldn’t hold on for longer. Its hold slipping, keeping you on the edge up until you heard the loud thud that echoed at the very bottom of the ravine. 

The air was so still, only the sound of your heavy breathing and soft trickle of the gravel that fell from the walls of the ravine. Following the fate of the saurian. Leaving you hanging before even thinking of trying to find a more stable spot between the roots. Kinich being still up on the cliff having slipped your mind completely. Focusing all your energy and instinct on finding the most suitable spot to get on before even attempting to come up with a plan to get back up. 

Kinich so desperately wanted to hesitate, not look down the ravine. Not after the thud that had echoed from the bottom of it. The sound that had stirred those memories to resurface, powerful enough to make him wonder if he even wanted to check and confirm the source of the sound. 

But then again, Kinich couldn't just leave and assume what had happened. Peeking over the edge, keen eyes scanning the bottom of the ravine. Only being able to spot the saurian, unmoving at the bottom. His brows furrowed, eyes moving across the walls of the ravine in confusion. A silent breath escaping him after spotting your form lodged between the roots, having heard the rustle of the dirt falling down from around the roots. Not even giving himself time to be relieved before his mind started ticking. Trying to figure out a way to fish you back up. 

“Hold on, I’ll reel you back up.” He called out, voice stoic as ever. And if you hadn’t been in such an attention requiring situation, you could have heard the slight waver in his voice. 

You peered up, merely seeing the man’s shadow before he disappeared off of the cliff edge. Way to leave someone hanging, you thought. A slight snarl appearing on your face before at last making it close enough to the wall of the ravine to calm down for a moment.

Soon a few rocks fell from the top, catching your attention. A grappling hook slowly lowered itself to your level before Kinich appeared at the top. “Wrap it around yourself.” He instructed, the same tone of voice still there. Doing his all to hold it together. Panicking now would only lead to worse losses, and that wasn’t a price he was willing to pay. 

Though, he would have been a fool to not admit the way he was feeling. Having noticed how his hands had shook while fetching the hook. How his breath had hitched at the thud, how tense he felt even now. 

The tug at the end of the rope caught his attention, peering back down to make sure you were securely attached to the grappling hook. 

Trying your best to help him, you used the wall closest to you. Placing the tip of your boot to each crevice you could spot, making the weight a little lighter for him. 

Soon a heavy breath escaped your lips when the familiar grass appeared back into view, crawling back on the top of the cliff. Kinich taking a hold of you, easily lifting your form back up. Dragging you rather far from the edge without even noticing before he let go. 

You allowed yourself to lay on your back, breathing heavily as the seriousness of the situation slowly started to sink in. Staring at the sky, following the few clouds that travelled across in that time. Turning to look at Kinich, watching as he hadn’t allowed himself to sit down. Leaned against his knees, hair hiding most of his face as he stared at the grass. Breaths heavy. A relieved yet tense silence between the two of you. 

Observing him a little longer, it wasn’t hard to tell that he’d clearly been shaken up by the events. And maybe it hadn’t hit you just as hard yet, but you felt almost worse for him than yourself. It wasn’t often that you nor anyone else saw him like this. 

With a silent groan you sat back up, thinking for a moment before deciding to speak up. “You couldn’t have known it would attach itself to me…It’s okay.” Knowing he wasn’t going to let this slip with you merely telling him that it wasn’t his fault, yet still trying. He wasn't the kind of person to not blame himself when he’d been involved in something like this. “No, I should have known. Waited for you to get out of its range. I knew better than that.” Kinich replied, voice surprisingly calm as he stood back up. Completely dismissing your earlier forgiveness. 

You couldn’t get a word in after, not that there was much you could say. He wouldn’t believe you if you kept telling him that he was not at fault here. Merely watching as he kneeled in front of you, eyes scanning your form before doing a more thorough check up for injuries. Lifting each of your limbs, moving them to make sure that nothing was out of place. Mumbling something about the adrenaline wearing off soon and having to check up on you after that again. Gaining him a slight eye roll from you. 

The chuckle you let out couldn’t hide the nervousness still deep in your system, still feeling the need to make him understand. To make him listen, it wasn’t his fault. That there was no reason to think of how it had happened, but to move on and be glad you’d both made it out in one piece. 

You took a hold of his hand, stopping it from wandering around your form. Obsessively checking that everything was okay. Giving him a look before pulling the man down to sit and calm down. Feeling his hand still tremble, clear that he was still on edge about this.

You may have not known everything of his past, and you didn’t have to. No matter what he may have encountered before you’d even met him didn’t matter now. He was allowed to be shocked and panicked, but what you firmly believed he shouldn’t do was to force himself to be so uptight. To make himself move on so quickly. Especially when that didn’t seem to be an unconscious choice, it was one he forced himself to make. 

“Hey, we’re both alive and well…mostly in one piece. Calm down, eh?” You tried to smile at him. Watching as his eyes stared into yours, careful as he eased out and more willingly sat down. A breath escaping him, giving in. If just a little. 

You placed his hand against your chest, breathing calmly. In a way an attempt to calm yourself at the same time, maybe tricking your brain by doing this for him. Watching as wind so high up in the cliffs blew against the both of you, sitting there in silence. Waiting until the initial shock wore off. 

And likely would have waited for longer. If it hadn’t been for the subtle grunt that escaped you when letting go of his hand. Likely having sprained something in your shoulder due to the fall. But it was enough to bring Kinich back on track, quick in his actions as he tugged you back onto your feet. Mumbling something about not wasting any more time and having to go find a medic. Gaining him another eye roll.

[sanguniemcordis]

some kyle garrick roommate headcanons to get my blood flowing

roommate!kyle garrick x fem!reader (fluff)

cw: alcohol, pretty much that.

• wasn’t expecting a girl when he put the ad out, but when he saw you he couldn’t complain

• but you needed somewhere to stay and honestly a man wasn’t your favorite pick either but what can ya do

• gives you the bigger room without telling you (literally switches over the couple days that he has before you move in)

• definitely under charges you for rent

• the apartment is bare because he’s never home for very long so he just tells you to decorate how you want

• helps you bring all your things up, happily takes pizza as payment

• kyle is nice. he’s funny, clever, not bad on the eyes

• he turns out to be a really nice roommate

• shares his food because he never knows when he’s leaving so it’s all up for grabs

•sings loudly and BADLY in the shower

• watches nature documentaries like 9 out of 10 times you see him on the couch (the other 1 time is soccer football)

• also probably falls asleep to them but then complains when he wakes up and you’ve turned something else on (“hey, i was watching that..”)

• scarily quiet sleeper due to his job, barely moves either

• but terrifyingly easy to wake up, even if you take a step within 10 feet of him his eyes open

• sometimes leaves the toilet seat up

• if you leave your bra in the dryer he puts it on over his shirt and waits for your return OR goes into your room, strikes a pose then leaves (you have to chase him to get it back)

• listen. it’s not that he thinks women are weak, not in the slightest, it’s that he knows men are crazy, so don’t even think about leaving at night

• seriously, don’t (one time you didn’t tell him and he thought you had been kidnapped)

• if you go out with your friends, expect he’s up waiting but not in an obvious way, but pretending he’s been watching another movie

• he makes a mean hangover breakfast

• he also has a very specific routine for shutting down the house and locking the doors or windows to make sure its secure

• makes too much food and gets offended when you don’t eat it all

• and if you have a potential partner or date over, he’s interrogating them, but in an unsuspicious way, one that seems friendly at first then goes south

• (“so you were just dating your ex only three months ago, you posted a picture on instagram with them and yet you already moved on?” “KYLE!” what? i was just asking a question!” “how did you even find their instagram?!”)

• kyle who for some reason hates every single person you bring home

• kyle who used to have a few regular fwb but slowly got rid of all of them

• kyle who started tagging along on night outs, casually stating he was bored

• then hes paying for several rounds but only having a drink or two, and yes, he’s forcing you to have water

• yes he takes you to get food when you’re drunk and begging

• then suddenly he starts suggesting activities for you guys to do together, puzzles… walks… restaurants… a pottery studio (“come on, it’d be fun!” “kyle have you ever done pottery?” “no! but it’d be fun, yeah?)

• kyle who starts to get just a little more touchy, starting small. i’m talking lower back touches, hugs, finger tips brushing over your bicep, grasping your wrist, even playing with a ring you had just bought

• eyes lingering on you longer and longer

• and just as the tension is bubbling, he’s gone.

• for months and the entire time he’s unable to focus entirely on his mission, part of his mind always going back to you, are you okay? are you warm? are you eating?

• and you’re in the same boat, wondering if hes eating, drinking, sleeping okay. if he’s coming home, when he’s coming home

• kyle who is only able to call you once and it’s the best fifteen minutes of his life

• whenever he comes home he always quietly checks on you, peeking his head in.

• is loud when he comes home sometimes, which is an accident, but it’s a welcome disruption because you know he’s safe. one time he was because he couldn’t bend over to get his jeans off and he woke you up, but it was welcomed help

• then after the jeans incident would be the first time you guys ever sleep together is when he found you up after coming home late. you made him food, turned on the tv and watched a movie on the couch

• the next morning you wake up first, curled up towards him, a crick in your neck and legs hanging off the couch

• kyle is turned towards you, plate nearly finished on his lap and arms crossed, head nodding forward

• then comes the weird limbo..

• because kyle is definitely touchier, sweeter SOMEHOW

• starts to sprinkle in some affection (“hand me that, love, would you, the best thank you,” “okay darling, i’ll get my shoes-“ “i’m just going to the corner-,” “no it’s fine, i need some fresh air.”)

• gets “strangely” protective whenever you’re in public and a guy approaches, even if he was across the store he’s by your side in an instant. (“sorry babe, whose this?” “kyl-,” “y’know i saw some of your favorite wine on sale, grab a bottle or two?”)

• speaking of wine, kyle LOVES wine night. props his feet up, pours you both a hefty glass of wine and turns on whatever guilty pleasure you both have

• (right now its 90 day fiancé)

• when he gets wine tipsy thats when he gets clingy, shuffling closer and closer until he rests his head on your shoulder, thighs pressing together.

• “he doesn’t love her,” kyle will mutter, discontent with the man on the show “how do you know that?” “because i do.”

• kyle who ends the night holding you, because hes clung his arms around you then managed to wiggle the pair of you together

• kyle, who even after you fall asleep stays up, unable to move because this just feels so right and like it was supposed to always be this way

[itsrheasgirl]

ONLY YOURS

VAMPIRE!RHEA X READER

ᴡᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ - ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏꜱᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇʟɪꜱꜱᴀ ᴄᴏᴍʙꜱ (ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ)

WORD COUNT: 11,042

SUMMARY: IT HAD BEEN DAYS SINCE RHEA HAD BEEN ABLE TO FEED. LUCKY FOR HER YOUR NIGHT OUT WITH YOUR SORORITY SISTERS WAS ABOUT TO BE THE ANSWER TO HER PROBLEM.

TW: Choking, Fingering, Rough Sex, Biting, Marking, Blood Consumption.

A new nightclub. With its dim lighting, dark corners and smoky atmosphere; it was easy to lurk unnoticed when needed. The perfect place to hide in the shadows and not have to acknowledge the people around you. But that wasn’t always the case; as Rhea was about to find out.

Callus fingers gripped tightly around the crystal that housed rich amber liquid as Rhea’s sapphire gaze scanned the vicinity of her table, her spine pressing firmly into the cushion of her booth as she exhaled a disgruntled sign from her nostrils. It had been days since she had fed, she hadn’t had a moment alone since getting on the plane to work a few days prior and things were getting desperate. The ache in her gums had become excruciating and she wasn’t entirely sure how she was keeping it together.

The bar was packed to the nines with belligerent men who’s only goal was to fuck anything that moved, the occasional sober loser who’d lost a bet and been deemed the designated driver and a hand full of bachelorette parties filled with overly drunk females just looking for an excuse to make out with a stranger. It wasn’t like she was short for something to snack on, but her shimmering hues traveled the entire perimeter of the bar and she saw nothing but a mass of unappetizing obstacles that stood in her way of feeding on what she truly desired.

You didn’t like going out in public; in fact you would much rather be at home with a book and a large glass of red wine than crammed into a tiny nightclub with a ocean of complete strangers and yet here you were. Standing in the smoke pit of the only decent place to drink in town as your best friend Hanna puffed grey smoke from her lips like a chimney.

“Look either you stop acting like I ruined your night, or you don’t, but either way we are getting shit faced. Got it? You owe me.”

Inhaling another long pull from the white stick perched within her fingers till her lungs were full, you waited patiently for the recoil of smoke to cloud the sky before you and for her to speak again. She wasn’t wrong, you did owe her but you didn’t ever expect her to cash in on it.

“I made out with half the girl’s in the sorority to get you in, so suck it up and show them that your were fucking worth it.”

An impish cackle parted Hanna lip’s as slender fingers moved forward to offer the cigarette in your direction, her perfectly manicured brows arch skyward as she gives you a swift up and down. You didn’t want to change yourself to fit in at school, but she was unfortunately right. If you wanted to fit in, you had to follow the rules.

Swallowing a small pool of saliva that had pooled on your tongue, you reach out and generously accept the cigarette into your own grasp. Just one puff, that's all you needed to do to prove yourself and after that you’d never have to smoke again. With a nervous palm, you press the small burning stick between your lips and inhale a violent breath. The heated smoke hitting the back of your throat as you instantly fought back the desire to cough.

“Fuck.”

You choke out as the gust of smog fell from your lips, the corners of cat eyed wings beginning to water as you swiftly handed back the worst decision you’d ever made. That was definitely the last time you’d do that. Giving yourself a few moments to regain your strength, you stand back upright and flash your best friend a concerned smile.

“Yeah, not a fan of that.”

You groaned before pressing your lips in a firm line, a strange tingle in your throat burning as if you’d swallowed hot coals. How was it that so many of your friends could smoke like a chimney and never suffer from such a burn? Not even ice water could soothe the fire in your throat.

You had always wished for Hanna’s confidence; ever since you were kids she had always been the social butterfly and you’d hidden yourself away indoors with your books and your stories. While boys had captivated her, fantasy had captivated you. Losing yourself in a world where anything was possible.

“And you made out with half the girl’s in the sorority because you wanted to, it had nothing to do with me and you know it.”

A small harmonious laugh parted your lips and you glanced down at the outfit you’d been forced into for the night. It hadn’t been your first choice; hell it wouldn’t have been your one hundredth choice but unfortunately, you didn’t get a choice in the matter.

“Did you have to pick something so–”

You pause for a moment, your slender fingers pulling at the hem in an attempt to make the dress seem longer, desperately trying to pull it past your knees.

“Sexy?”

Your best friend replied, not letting you finish your own sentence for fear of already knowing the answer. You’d put up a good fight as she basically painted it on you earlier that night, but you clearly weren't strong enough to save yourself from a night dressed like a dominatrix.

“I was going to say short.”

You snip, still attempting the impossible with the last two inches of your dress. You were already beginning to stress of the dribbling males that would be hanging off your every word and you hadn’t even stepped inside yet. Surely this was taking ‘you owe me one’ a little too far?

“You can’t complain, the dark red goes so well with your milky skin tone and your dark hair. You look like the damsel in distress from your vampire romance novel.”

A soft pink flush comes to your cheeks as your best friend brings up your secret shame that to this day you wish you hadn’t told her about, your heart rate dropping slightly as you compared the imagery in your head. In your mind, you looked nothing like the main female human within your stories. She was delicate like a flower, as sweet as honey and as beautiful as a sunset. You were none of those things.

“Are you done? I just want to get this over with.”

Darting your crystal gaze in the direction of the almost burn out stick, you raise your eyebrows in question and motion towards the nightclub entrance with an eager bob of your head.

“Let's go.”

- - - - -

The sweet smell of dry rose mixed with a delicate musk hit Rhea’s nostrils before you’d even set foot in the bar; the second the door opened she was drowned in your floral aroma. The small hairs that lay across her neck standing on end as her fingers tightened, the crystal glass beneath her fingertips creaking under the pressure. It was as if every smell that plagued the bar had disappeared and all that was left was you. You were tantalizing and she had to have you.

“Tequilaaaaa.”

You made it eight steps. You’d been in the bar less than ten seconds and you already wanted to leave. Your nose crinkled as you lean away from the overly loud female, keeping your line of sight on the bar. The faster you got to the alcohol the better and at least you could still have your red wine.

Sliding your palms across the slick bar top; for a split second you forget what you're wearing and lean forward on the bar to gain the bartender's attention, the cool breeze of passers by alerting you of your exposed ass cheeks as you snap back up to standing position. To the naked eye, it would have been missed, gone unnoticed by everyone and you would have gotten away with it. But a split second for humans could be stretched for hours by a vampire; it was a skill that came hand in hand with their inhuman speed.

The whites of Rhea’s eyes darkened slightly as she stared at you from her booth in the corner of the night club, the tips of her fingers turning pure white as she gripped even tighter to the tumbler in her palm. The snow white mounds peeking out from beneath rich crimson fabric had Rhea’s desire for you to increase. There was something primal deep within her that flipped like a switch the second she’d layed eyes on you, the pain in her gums and the burning under her skin like thousands of tiny matches had been lit against her already sensitive flesh. The cheeky peek at what your body looked like out of your dress had Rhea’s plump lip rolling beneath blunt pearly whites, her free palm moving from the booth before her to drag back through slicked back jet black hair.

You were like a magnet; drawing Rhea in, captivating her every sense by doing nothing but exist in the same space as her. The stale smell of old beer and wet cigarettes no longer existed in her nostrils, all she could smell was rose; sweet and fresh. It was the most beautiful smell she’d ever come across and she couldn’t wait to get her teeth into it. Quite literally.

“I’ll have a glass of red, sixteen ounces please.”

“And four shots of tequila!”

Your bestie screamed as you attempted to order your drink, her entire form bumping into you as she crashed into your side with a loud groan. You’d had a few shots before leaving the sorority house and it was becoming very clear to you what kind of drunk you’d be looking after tonight, your forearm wrapping around the shorter female's waist swiftly in hopes to keep her upright.

“Two. And a glass of water please.”

You took a worried look over in your best friend's direction as she held onto your frame, returning your focus swiftly to the bartender as he too watched over your companion with concerned hues. You had more friend’s coming, you wouldn’t have to take care of her yourself all night, but what were you supposed to do before the other arrived?

Slender fingers winding around the stem of your wine glass, your glistening hues scanning around the vicinity as you took a seat at the bar with your inebriated counterpart in tow. Why had you agreed to come out tonight? Why couldn’t have been you washing your hair? Gently crossing one toned leg over the other, you leant back against the bar to rest upon the ledge. You didn’t intend to stay out all night, but a couple of hours out of the house couldn’t be that bad right? Maybe something exciting would happen to you for once.

Rhea’s grip around her beverage had yet to relax, her entire fingers starting to lose color as she continued to hold tightly onto the tumbler. The clear glass beneath her pressure had begun to crack, hairline fractures scattering across the smooth surface as she finally retracted her palm in enough time to save herself from shattered glass littering her flesh.

She couldn’t take her eyes off you, not even for a second. The way your dark curls fell about your shoulders, your exposed collarbones and the plunge of your perked breasts, the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took. You had her captivated in ways that she’d never experienced before and no matter how long it took, she was going to get a taste of you.

“Drink the water, please.”

Small whimpers fell from Hanna's lips as you tried to hold the tall glass of clear liquid against them, your manicured brows knitting together as she reluctantly sipped at the refreshing liquid you so desperately wanted her to drink. She just needed to balance out what she was consuming, one glass of water per alcoholic beverage and you'd have her back on her feet in no time.

“I wanna daaaance.”

Hanna whined, her face turning away from the glass as you lowered it back down to the bar top with a soft exhale of air. Of course she wanted to dance and of course she couldn’t wait for the remainder of your group to arrive. This was supposed to be a simple night out, but it seems that reality had other plans.

Gently taking hold of her wrist, you pull Hanna in your direction and force her to look at you, her glimmering emerald hues cloaked in a pleading expression as she pouted flush lips. You couldn’t say no to her; it was the reason you were out of the house to begin with, but you weren’t a great dancer and if you could avoid it you would.

“How about you finish your water first, huh?”

Another elongated whine fell from Hanna’s lips as her faux pout grew more dramatic, her head shaking side to side with enough gusto to have her long blonde curls hit you in the face. God she was annoying, but over the years you’d gotten used to her stubborn demeanor and her ability to get you on board with whatever she wanted. It didn’t come as a surprise when all she had to do was bat her lashes and everyone would be fawning over her within seconds.

Rolling your eyes counterclockwise as you finish off the last of your wine, you slide the empty glass back towards the bartender and push off your barstool with an exasperated groan. Dancing wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but having the entire bar’s watchful gaze on you as your shapely body moved in a dress that wouldn’t even fit a Malibu barbie was another thing. Pulling the hem of your dress down once more as you tried your best to cover more of your exposed flesh, you finally give up and grasp tightly around the fragile bones of Hanna’s wrists.

“Rule one. You stay upright.”

Yanking Hanna from her bar stool and on to her feet, you lock your crystal gaze with her own. Sure you were probably wasting your breath, but it didn’t hurt to try and get through to her.

“Rule two. Keep your hands off the strangers.”

You could see the excitement growing on Hanna’s face as she realized you were giving in to her request, her energy level practically boiling beneath her skin as she began to bounce in place. Maybe letting her burn off some energy before everyone else arrived would make your evening a little more bearable.

Loosening your hold on Hanna’s wrist only slightly so she didn’t run off towards the dance floor without you, you grasp at the half empty glass of water to have a final attempt at getting her to drink it.

“Finish your water and then we can dance, I promise.”

Watching you closely as you encouraged your friend to down the remainder of her water, Rhea couldn’t help the devilish smirk that claimed her full lips. Your statuesque physique continued to tempt her as she inhaled yet another full breath of your intoxicating scent, the sharp pain in her gums becoming unbearable as she licked a plump tongue across pearly whites. It was clear to her that you wouldn’t be alone any time soon, but she was willing to wait. You were the only person she saw in a sea of bodies and if meant waiting all night to satisfy herself with the rich elixir of your blood, then so be it.

The warmth of the dance floor was definitely off putting, hot and sweaty bodies writhing against each other as the heavy base of the music thumped in your ears. But as your body swayed back against Hanna’s and her lengthy fingers held tightly onto your hip bones, you had to admit to yourself that maybe you were having a good time. It wasn’t public knowledge that you preferred the touch of a beautiful woman to that of a dribbling puppy dog male, but as the delicate touches of Hanna’s fingertips danced against your flesh you couldn’t help the soft whimper that parted your lips.

The harmonious noise of your soft mews flooded Rhea’s earcannels; even with the heavy bass drop, your sounds were all she could hear as she continued to watch you from the corner booth, her darkened hues burning into your slender form as she carefully finished her stiff drink for the fractured glass. Selective hearing was a perk of being undead, focusing on what she wanted to hear and ignoring everything else around her like it didn’t exist. All she saw was you, all she heard was you and all she wanted was you.

“I’ll drink it really slow. Pleeease.”

Hanna whined as she rested her chin down against your shoulder, the warmth of her breath cascading across your skin as she begged you for yet another drink. Your milky flesh pimpling beneath the air that parted her lips as she gently trailed her fingertips up and down the length of your forearm, you let heavy lashes close for a few moments while you contemplated her question. It was no surprise to you that her touch was coursing such a reaction. How were you supposed to stay calm when a beautiful woman had her hands on you? Exuding a small sigh as you turn on stiletto clad feet, you open your eyes to look upon Hanna with a concerned expression.

You didn't want to be the reason she wasn’t having fun.

“Fine. But you drink it really slowly.”

Hanna squealed with excitement as once more she began to bounce in place, her slender fingers gripping tightly around your wrist as she dragged your statuesque form back in the direction of the bar with nothing but joy in her eyes.

You couldn’t begin to understand why girls loved drinking and being out in such crowded places while they did it. What was so appealing about the atmosphere the two of you currently found yourself in? Sweaty bodies, loud music and– A large lump formed in your throat and your mind went blank as your glistening gaze locked onto the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen leaning against the edge of the bar as you approached. Her jet black hair slicked back and away from her perfectly chiseled jaw, her plump lips coated in a burnt red paint, a midnight black suit hugging her muscular form perfectly and a litter of silver rings adorning her lengthy fingers as she stared intently at the bartender who stood motionless in front of her.

“Hi!”

Hanna yelled over the base of the music as the two of you reached the bar top, her emerald hues flitting over to the mysterious stranger as you stood in silence at her side. You weren’t one to talk to people you didn’t know; especially when they looked the way she did. Swatting at Hanna’s upper arm to gain her attention, you raise your brows in a concerned expression before shaking your head gently back and forth.

“Don’t bother people you don't know, Han. I’m sorry.”

Glancing over in the direction of the lady in black, you swallow nervously as her shimmering sapphire hues lock with your gaze. Her eyes were like crystal pools, instantly captivating you and pulling you into their hypnotic state with ease.

Leaning back only slightly on her stool as to peer around Hanna’s form to give you a un-noticeable up and down, Rhea licked her plump tongue slowly over her throbbing gums as an eat shit smirk claimed crimson lips.

“No complaints here.”

Rhea chortled softly. The pads of her fingers coiling around the new crystal glass of amber liquid as she slowly brought it up to her lips, not once breaking the hypnotic connection the two of you shared as she gulped back a mouthful of the burning liquor.

You could feel the color of your cheeks shift, even with the multicolored lights that flashed through the otherwise dimly lit bar you were certain Rhea noticed as she turned her attention back to the bartender who remained motionless in front of her. He hadn’t once looked away; as if he was in a trance, captivated by her movements.

“Glass of red and a fruity cocktail, am I right?”

You could see Rhea as she peeked over at you from her peripherals, the eat shit grin returning to her perfect lips as she took another long sip from her beverage. How did she know what you were drinking? Had she been watching you?

Bobbing your head in a slow motion, you couldn’t help the little smile that tugged the corners of your lips. You should be concerned, right? A complete stranger had been watching you, for how long you weren’t even sure and in any normal circumstance you’d be grabbing your things and heading for the door, but there was something about this woman that made you want to stay. Something about her that had your subconscious spinning and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“So what’s with the whole dark and mysterious look you’ve got going on, mysterious stranger? It’s kinda creepy.”

Your mouth fell agape at Hanna’s words, a sudden wave of panic washing over you as you tugged a few strands of her golden hair causing her to whine at the pain.

“What?”

She snipped, turning her gaze back towards you as she rubbed the sore spot on her scalp. She could be so obtuse sometimes and it often led to unwanted confrontation that you had to resolve. With a ‘what the fuck’ expression upon your features, you step around her petite frame to sandwich yourself between her and Rhea as concern once more claimed your face.

“I really am sorry about her.”

Turning your back on Hanna as she continued to rub at her scalp, you faced Rhea head on with an apologetic smile. You didn’t find her attire creep, in fact the darkness of her clothing and depth to her make up made her most captivating feature pop. Her sapphire gaze was truly the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, looking into her eyes brought a warmth to your demeanor that you only felt when you lost yourself in your books.

“She doesn’t have a filter and will find pretty much anything to keep herself entertained.”

Rhea didn’t say a word as she leant back on her stool to peek over at Hanna with a raised brow, a small chortle releasing from her chest as she sat back to rest her elbow against the bar.

“I can see.”

Your manicured brow arches in confusion as you take in Rhea’s words, turning back on high heels to find Hanna tongue deep in a complete stranger. The beverage she was supposed to drink ‘slowly’ empty on the bar top alongside two empty shot glasses. Expelling a soft gust of air from your nostrils, you roll your eyes counterclockwise and return your attention to Rhea as she sits sipping her liquor in silence.

“So much for girls' night.”

You grumble as slender fingers wind round the stem of your wine glass, slowly bringing the glass to your lips before swallowing a mouthful of the crimson liquid in one big gulp. You’d expected nothing less from Hanna, she was known for finding anyone or anything to make out with but you didn’t expect it to happen before you had other friends to keep your attention occupied.

Staring down at the last bit of wine as you swirled it round and round in the glass, you exhaled a small sigh before knocking your head back to consume the sweet liquid. The sound of Rhea clearing her throat pulling you back to reality as you placed the empty glass back onto the bartop. You hadn’t noticed her watching you, her dark gaze burning into your milky flesh as you’d dwelled in self pity over losing your friend to some random stranger with a skilled tongue.

“Can I get you another glass of wine?”

Your plush lips curved into an impish simper as your tongue played with each pitfall of your back teeth. You weren’t one to have drinks with a stranger, especially with someone as devilishly attractive as the female in your current company, but what harm would it do to be adventurous. Live on the wild side for once like the heroine in your new novel.

Sliding the empty glass in the direction of the awaiting bartender, you crinkle your nose in contemplation. Maybe you should order something other than wine. You were planning to live on the edge a little, so why not spice up every part of your evening?

���You know what, surprise me.”

- - - - -

The pad of Rhea’s finger danced softly against your neck as she swiped the loose strand of chestnut curls over your shoulder, your exposed flesh causing the heat in her esophagus to rage like wildfire. The steady thrum of your heartbeat like heavy drums in her ear canal as you sipped the fruity beverage she'd chosen for you, blissfully unaware of her staring once more. She could smell the sweetness of your blood as it moved through your veins, pulsing at the sweet spot in your throat like a beckon that kept drawing her in. She couldn’t help herself, everything about you was like torture.

It was a stupid idea for her to be this close to you when she hadn’t fed, one wrong move and she’d be left with quite the mess to clean up and compulsion wouldn’t be an option in a place this busy. She knew she was weak, the lack of human blood always led to dwindling power and one feed wouldn’t be enough to pull her back to full strength. But as Hanna had wandered off into the night with her new found plaything, Rhea had invited you back to her booth with open arms. She wanted to be alone with you, to not let anyone else have you. Your scent had intoxicated every fiber of her being and even with the fire that raged in her gums she couldn’t convince herself to walk away.

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be, ya know, I've been writing for years but I'm still finding myself with too many sleepless nights when it comes to my current work.”

You weren’t sure why Rhea had become so invested in what it was you did outside of the four walls you both found yourselves in, but as you spoke about your current endeavors with school and the challenges they were bringing you; you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Most people found your creative writing to be boring and often changed the subject to something else whenever you brought them up, but Rhea was hanging off your every word like it was the most exciting thing she’d ever heard in her life. Her piercing gaze fixated on your lips as you spoke, her palm resting beside your thigh on the cushioned seat you shared and her plump lips curved into a devilish simper. She was eating up every single word that you said, which only encouraged you to keep going.

“Fantasy isn’t everyone's cup of tea and I often have to deal with immature frat boys calling me geeky names but when I open my mind up to the world of the supernatural, I can lose myself in a reality more exciting than my own.”

One of Rhea’s brows arched skyward at your mention of the supernatural, the corner of her lip inching into a playful smirk as she took a long sip from her crystal tumbler before setting it down beside your empty glass. So you were a girl who thrived on the suspicion of creatures that didn’t always take human form, how convenient for her.

In a move that would go unseen to the human eye, Rhea shifted her palm to rest down against the exposed flesh of your thigh. The tips of her fingers toying playfully with the hem of your tiny dress as she leant in to press the flush of her lower lip against your ear. She could hear the increase of your heartbeat before you could realize its speed, the pad of her thumb catching the sensitive part between your legs only causing the sound to grow louder.

“Supernatural you say.”

Rhea’s blunt teeth caught the shell of your ear as she spoke, her lips moving painfully slowly as she began to press a soft kiss to the crook of your neck. You’d never had someone make a move so quickly after nerding out about school, but the delicateness of Rhea’s actions had you melting under her touch. A soft mew parting your lips as you tried to remain focused on your breath. You couldn’t let on how desirable Rhea made you feel, you barely knew each other.

The blood pumping beneath Rhea’s lips had her free palm gripping tightly at her empty glass, her subconscious trying its best to focus on not ripping out your throat and not the strength she was using.

“Are you actually interested, Miss Ripley? Or are you just acting interested to get in my panties?”

Your head lulled to the side in attempts to beckon Rhea closer, your thighs parting only slightly to tempt her playful hands as her fingers continued to toy with your dress. This wasn’t you. Not normally, but there was something about Rhea that had your mind reeling. She made it hard for you to focus, it was like she had an aura that played with your senses and clouded your brain.

You felt Rhea’s lips morphe into an eat shit smirk against your skin as she nipped sharply against your pulse point, the strength behind each nip leaving purple marks in their wake. Your own lips pressing into a harsh line as you fought back a plethora of pleasurable moans that threatened to break free, your head tilting back against the cushioned wall behind you as your fingertips gripped the edge of the booth.

You were hidden away from eighty percent of the bar in your corner booth, the patrons all too focused on each other to pay your little endeavors any attention. You could whimper and moan all you wanted, the music was far too loud for anyone to hear. She could use you like a rag doll and no one would be the wiser.

“What if I said both?”

You could feel the flush of Rhea’s lips move against your collarbone as she spoke, the sharp nips against your flesh pausing for only a few seconds as she addressed your question, quickly resuming once she was done. You couldn’t begin to imagine what your throat looked like as Rhea’s skilled lips continued their magic, your fingers only gripping harder at the booths ledge as you held in your breath to calm your desire.

There was no way that you’d found someone who not only showed interest in you but also in your work. They weren’t often a thing that came hand in hand and a part of you was beginning to doubt yourself. This had to be a set up. Your friends were just playing some sick joke on you and Rhea was just attractive bait to lure you into a trap.

“Is it wrong for me to say I don’t believe you?”

You probably should have kept your mouth shut, but once you had an idea in your head, you had to act on it.

The burning sensation of Rhea’s kiss as they marked your skin stopped suddenly, her sapphire gaze retracting to meet your questioning own as the corners of her lips twitched into a devilish simper.

“Come now kitten, what kind of a woman do you take me for? Lying to you just so I can get you out of your dress? I should be offended.”

You couldn’t stop the sudden increase of your heart rate as Rhea’s little pet name caught you off guard, the plush of your lower lip rolling tightly between pearly whites as you kept your gaze locked with hers. You couldn’t think of what to say. She didn't seem offended, the unbelievably desirable smirk remained plastered on her lips as the pad of her thumb once more found itself dancing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. She wasn’t backing down, not even slightly and if she still wanted you, she could still have you.

You could feel the lump resurfacing in your throat as Rhea’s sapphire hues burnt into your own, the devilish glare within them pulling you further and further into her web as her plump tongue coaxed over her painted lips. She was staring at you like a hungry lioness stalking her prey and with each passing second your cravings for her lips back on your skin grew stronger. What had this woman done to you?

With a swift motion you barely noticed, Rhea’s fingertips from her free palm moved to sweep back the dark curls that clung to your shoulder, pushing them down your spine to reveal the soft curve of your shoulderbone to her wandering gaze. She’d not looked away from you for most of the night and yet there was so much more of your slender form she wanted to see.

Pressing her heated kiss back down against the hollow of your collarbone, you can’t help but expel the soft mews that had been clinging to your lungs. Even the slightest of touches; be it fingers or lips, had you reveling in desire. Every part of you screaming for her touch as you leant into the passion of her aura.

Without a word, your thighs parted once more. Your entire body was begging for her to take it as her own and the longer she made you wait, the harder it became to keep yourself contained. You didn’t usually beg for someone to be this close to you. On your usual Saturday nights, you were wrapped in a blanket with your laptop, writing your novel and wishing your life could be as exciting as the heroines you wrote about. Falling in love with supernatural beings, learning about a whole new world and chasing dreams that didn’t exist in a human’s reality.

Chewing at the plush of your lower lip, you let heavy lids fall closed. The sensations of Rhea’s lips moving effortlessly against your jugular vein had your heart racing, the heavy thrum like music as it played in her ears. The pain beneath her gums raged; growing more intense by the second as her fingertips pressed into the creamy flesh of your upper thigh. She wanted you and you wanted her, it was clear to you both where this night could end.

A small wince echoes from your chest as your blunt teeth punctured the top layer of skin upon your lower lip, the rich taste of copper coating your tongue as Rhea’s entire form went rigid. She could smell the blood as it pooled from the injury you inflicted on yourself, causing the depths of her gaze to darken. The smell flooded her nostrils as she held herself still against your neck, keeping her features away from your gaze as the tips of her canines began to ache. Her control was weak, the lack of human blood over the last few days had left her with no power left to curb her desires. She could feel the monstrous rage that came hand in hand with feeding off a fresh vein boiling under her skin, the tips of her fingers pressing into your thigh enough to leave purple blemishes beneath the tips.

“Rhea?”

Your tone was laced with question as you spoke her name, concern flooding your features as you pulled away from her heated lips that still held their place against your throat. Your head craning to the side in attempts to look upon her motionless form, you swallowed nervously as your gaze fell upon the unexpected. The depth of Rhea’s eyes caused the air in your lungs to catch, your throat growing tight as a lump in your windpipe kept you from breathing out even a single breath. Was it a trick of the lighting? Were the shadows playing tricks on you?

Sucking the blood that had pooled on your lower lip into your mouth, you force out a stammered breath. It had to be your mind, it was playing tricks on you. There was no way that what you were witnessing was true. It couldn’t be. But as your mind played back over the night's events, your heart rate began to increase once more; only this time you had other things on your mind.

You hadn’t seen Rhea once since entering the nightclub and yet all of a sudden, there she was. Making herself a part of your night without even trying. Her dark demeanor and captivating eyes, her beauty and enticing persona. It was as if she’d been written to be perfect by your own mind. You played back each and every moment of the night as Rhea simply watched you, the black glaze to her once sapphire hues somehow still so captivating as you pieced things together. The stranger that had caught Hanna’s attention so quickly, the speed behind some of Rhea’s actions along with the ones that seemed to go unnoticed until they didn’t, her obsession with the soft spot of your pulse point and her ability to bruise your flesh with almost no effort. She was strong and fast. It wasn’t real, It couldn’t be.

It would only take a moment for Rhea to make you compliant, to get what she truly needed from you, but as she watched the light in your eyes flicker with excitement— only for a second, she doubted herself. You didn’t seem scared, in fact the complete opposite. Why didn't you run? It was clear you knew something no one else did and yet you hadn’t made one move for the exit.

Stretching out your palm to trace a singular finger over the arch of Rhea’s perfectly chiseled cheekbone, you swallowed back the lump in your throat with one thing on your mind. If this was real, if you were sat in the presence of something no one else believed in, then you would dive into the reality with both feet. Watching as the depth of her gaze shifted back to the bight blue you’d fallen so deeply for, you drop your hold on her features and grasp tightly at Rhea’s palm that sat on the table beside her empty glass.

“Come with me, Mami and I'll give you what you need.”

Giving Rhea’s hand a gentle tug as you slid from the booth and encouraged her to follow, you couldn’t help the impish glimmer that flickered in your eyes. If this moment was going to play out how you imagined, you needed a little more privacy.

- - - - -

The arch of your spine slammed against the reflective glass of the full length bathroom mirror as Rhea pressed against your slender form with all she had, the heat of her kiss against your jugular once more as you pawed at her shoulders in attempt to remove the suit jacket that clung to her torso. You could feel the hunger resonating out of Rhea’s form, her blunt nails puncturing the soft flesh of your thigh as she pulled your leg up to her waist. She was starved and as the moment between you grew hotter and hotter, it became harder and harder for Rhea to remain focused. Your pounding heartbeat didn’t exactly help the situation either.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Rhea practically moaned as she wound her lengthy fingers into the mass of your chestnut curls, her palm tugging down to expose more of your milky throat for her to ravish with her purple marks.

“Because I know where this goes.”

You whine as Rhea scatters a brand new chain of bruises around your neck, her palm moving you head like a puppet as she moves from one side of your throat to the other.

“I’ve written this story.”

Rhea’s interest peaked as you unknowingly gave away a part of the story you had yet to talk about. The question being which supernatural it was you wrote about. Trailing the tip of her nose up the left side of your jugular, across the perfect angle of your jaw and slowly up to your right ear, she gently sucked the lobe between her devilish lips before whispering softly against your ear.

“Then tell me Kitten, how does our story go?”

Were you about to quote your own book?

Use lines you’d written with the intention of never truly being said.

The warmth of Rhea’s breath against your ear makes your lids flutter, your fingers moving to toy with the first button of her slightly opened shirt as you turn your head slightly to find her oceanic hues. They were your words, you had written them, so why couldn’t you speak them? Popping the first button of Rhea’s shirt and swiftly moving to the second one, you lick across your front teeth before using the tip of your nose to bump her chin enough for you to find her ear.

You needed the right inflection, to commit to the part if you wanted it to work out and fuck did you want it to work out. Pressing a scatter of heated kisses along the perfect angle of Rhea’s jawline, you nipped playfully at her earlobe for letting out your words in a whisper.

“Take my body as your own, sinking your teeth deep into my skin; show me no mercy.”

Your voice dripped with desire as you popped yet another button on Rhea’s shirt, the pads of your fingers dancing across the skin as you exposed it to your gaze. Taking to the next button as you pressed a warm kiss to the corner of her jaw.

“Rip out everything mentally and let it explode physically.”

The whites of Rhea’s gaze began to grow dark as your words played with her hunger, tugging at the strings like torture. Your ravenous lips pressing another few kisses across her jawline.

“Grab hold of me, thrust and tear me chaotically, spilling your rage all over me.”

Finally reaching the last of the buttons on Rhea’s shirt, you pull the tails free from the leather belt that kept them at bay to expose her bare breasts to the air of the smoky bathroom.

“Hate me, love me, destroy me.”

Shifting your lips to peck repeatedly at Rhea’s own in hopes she would simply take you; there and then, you hike up your free leg to eagerly wind them both around her waist. Her weight against your form as you were pressed back into the mirror kept your bodyweight up, your hips grinding down against her own in attempts to get comfy.

Pulling at your hair and yanking your head back and away from her, you watch as Rhea’s lips morphed into a eat shit smirk. You watched in awe as the depth to her glazed eyes became darker, the grin upon her face peeling back to reveal elongated canines that almost glimmered in the bathroom lighting.

Vampire. Your subconscious screamed as you chewed playfully at your lower lip, your present mind not once thinking of the danger you could be in and ignoring the desire any normal human would have to run.

“Use me. Claim me.”

You uttered as your palms slid into the small of Rhea’s back, your slightly pointed nails pressing into her flesh as you slowly clawed them up her spine before winding them into her onyx tendrils. It took less than a second for Rhea’s palm that held tightly onto your thigh to snap up around your throat, her callus fingers tightening instantly to restrict the air escaping your lungs as she licked hungrily across her pointed fangs.

“Make me your plaything and fuck me, mia regina.”

(“ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴍʏ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ.”)

Rhea’s tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth as your fluent Italian flooded her ears, a shallow growl vibrating in her chest as she snapped her lips back against the shell of your ear.

“Oh dolce Gattino, ho intenzione di farlo.”

(“ᴏʜ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ, ɪ ᴘʟᴀɴ ᴛᴏ.”)

Each moment with Rhea was like you’d planned it, every detail of the night following that of your own imagination as she returned your foreign language without effort. Smoothing her thumb over the vein on your pulse point, she slacked off the hold she had on your throat just enough to allow you breath. Her heated breath washed over your ear as she continued to speak.

“Perché da ora in poi sei mio. Solo mio.”

(“ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɴᴏᴡ ᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ. ᴏɴʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴇ.”)

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as Rhea’s flawless Italian continued to drive itself into your consciousness, your heavy lids fluttering closed as her muscular form pulled you against her chest to relocate you to the sinks ledge. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you, about to be ravished beyond your wildest dreams by a walker of the night.

You couldn’t bring your gaze away from Rhea’s bare chest as her knee pushed itself between your own, driving your thighs apart enough for her to slide into the space she'd created with a devilish chortle. The darkness of her gaze continued to deepen, the vice-like grip around your throat tightening once more as she tilted your head back to have you look up at her with widened eyes. You could still breathe, but as Rhea’s fingertips pressed into the sides of your jugular you prayed to the heavens that she’d squeeze tighter. That she’d pull you into a new euphoria and heighten the desire that pooled between your legs.

“Only yours.”

You whimpered as the crushing sensation in your windpipe trapped the sound within its walls. Rhea was driving you crazy, each passing second pulling you further into a daydream as your palm moved to trace your fingertips over the wigs that spread over her sternum. Your blunt teeth gripping the flush of your lower lip as you took in every detail of the intricate tattoo, fracturing the delicate skin once more as the pressure became more intense. You could taste the blood as it bubbled to the surface once more, the coppery taste coating your taste buds as your fingers dropped from their soft touches to Rhea’s skin.

“I’m sor–”

You didn’t have the time to finish your apology before Rhea’s hunger found the soft plush of your lip, the heavy tug of her pulling the blood clean from the cut causing a delicate moan to vibrate from your chest as your fingertips gripped around the sinks ledge. She’d fought back every desire you’d thrown at her. Your scent, the heavy thrum of your heartbeat every time she’d touched you, but as the warm elixir of your life’s essence washed over her tongue, Rhea broke. She was done holding back, you’d given all the permission she needed to take you as her own and fuck was she about to take advantage of it.

The grip around your throat disappeared without you even realizing, both Rhea’s palms finding your hips to pull your ass forward. The hem of your crimson dress hitching higher up your thighs to expose more of your creamy flesh as Rhea’s darkened gaze simply watched in pleasure, her flush lips curving into her signature eat shit smirk as her tongue slid over elongated fangs. She wanted to taste every part of you, feel every part of you beneath her lips.

Tracing the pads of her fingers over the expanse of your soft thigh with one palm, Rhea craned your head slightly to press a scatter of kisses along your collarbone and up the column of your neck. The sharp points of her teeth catching your flesh every so often had you reeling, your legs twitching slightly as you felt the gentle touches of Rhea’s lengthy fingers trace between your thighs and ever closer to the heated core. The lace that shielded your wetness from her eager fingertips growing damper as Rhea’s released a deep moan against your earlobe.

“Take all of me Mami, please.”

You begged, swallowing a large ball of saliva as it pooled on your tongue.

“Take my body. My mind. My soul.”

You could feel the chuckle that parted Rhea’s lips as she moved her kiss back down your throat. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what damage she’d done to your milky skin by this point, but as your flesh burned beneath each hungry kiss, you let your mind wonder.

The sensation of skilled fingertips pulling aside your soaked panties and sliding between your slick folds yanked you from your subconscious, an unexpected moan parting your lips as Rhea slowly circled your sensitive bundle of nerves with her thumb. Your spine slowly arching forward with each new sensation, you chewed at the uncut side of your lip to suppress your whimpers.

“Non nascondermi il tuo piacere, Gattina. Lascia che ti ascolti.”

(“ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ, ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ. ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ.”)

Rhea uttered against your skin as she slowly swiped her finger up and down the slit of your folds, pressing the tip against your entrance as she dragged sharp points across your shoulder. She wanted to give you pleasure before she took some for herself, but as the heat behind her gums burned, she contemplated how much longer she could hold back before she’d be forced to line her esophagus with your sweet nectar.

“Sì, Mami.”

(“ʏᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴍɪ.”)

You whined as the tip of Rhea’s finger at your entrance caused your back to arch and your thighs to twitch, another heavy moan falling from your lips as she slowly began to insert her finger between your tight walls.

You still couldn’t believe what you were doing. Rhea could kill you if she so desired and yet you’d played into her web perfectly. She had you wound around her finger so tightly, in more than one sense and as she added an additional finger to the warmth of your core you couldn’t help yourself but call out her name.

Your thick lashes fluttered closed as Rhea’s palm cupped around the back of your neck, pulling your features forward to capture your lips with her own. A small wince echoing in your throat as her pointed teeth caught the small slice you’d caused but she didn’t seem to care as her tongue pushed past the barrier and began to explore your mouth, her fingers diving further into your wetness as she began to curl them against your sweet spot.

“Fuck.”

You purred, as Rhea’s kiss disappeared. Your lids snapping open as you felt the tips of her fangs drag against your pulse point. Was she about to feed off you? You were surprised that it hadn’t already happened. Vampires were written with a take what they want attitude, feed and move on. Rhea had already tasted your blood once and with that you’d expected her to rip into you like a wild animal, drain your life's essence and disappear into the night as if she never existed.

Tilting your head slightly to allow Rhea as much room as she needed for her feed, you close your eyes tightly. Would it hurt? You had no idea, but you had no intention of denying her. You could hear your heartbeat in your own ears and could only imagine what it was doing to her. The heavy thrum pounding out a perfect rhythm as you swallowed unknowingly out of nerves.

“Scared, Kitten?”

The dominance in Rhea’s voice had your fingertips gripping the countertop in seconds, your hips twitching forward against her palm as her two fingers continued to pump in and out of your slick walls without a sign of stopping. You weren’t scared, the complete opposite in fact; but you couldn’t bring yourself to form a sentence and instead a plethora of moans took the place of your words as her fingers curled perfectly against your sweet spot with each thrust. The chuckle that parted Rhea’s lips was almost evil as it vibrated in her throat, her heated kiss pressing once more against your jugular before her gaze pulled back to witness your tightly closed lids and monstrous grip upon the sink.

Slowing the rhythm of her thrusts only slightly with hopes of getting a reaction, Rhea’s painted lips curved into her signature smirk as your lashes fluttered and you lids peeled open. The darkness behind her gaze was still very present, the points of her teeth sharper than ever and yet she still hadn’t taken you as her latest blood bag. Why?

“I'm not scared of you.”

You stammered through labored breath.

“Prends-moi, brise-moi, s'il te plaît.”

(“ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ.”)

Once more Rhea’s lips peeled back in an almost demonic grin. Each time you saw the sharpness of her fangs it caused your heart to swoon, pulling you deeper and deeper into your own fantasies. Craving them to puncture your flesh and drag you into euphoria.

“As you wish”

Was all Rhea uttered as her rhythmic pulse against your core returned to its fast pace. You could feel the band in your abdomen tightening with each pump of her fingers, your head lulling back against the mirror as the fingertips from her free hand moved to sweep the hair back from your shoulders.

Was she about to give in? Were you finally about to experience what only the characters in your novel felt as an attractive female fed from you?

You could feel your peak approaching, each passing second Rhea pleasured your core pulling you closer and closer to the edge. You wanted her now, more than you had all night. Ever since the moment you realized what she was and what she could do to you, all you could think about was her sharp fangs plunging into your flesh and the euphoric state being connected with someone in such an intimate moment would bring.

Releasing the sink ledge and stretching out your palm in search of Rhea’s perfectly chiseled jawline, you traced your thumb against her smooth skin before cupping the nap of her neck. You didn’t want to be pushy, but you were losing your patience with the amount of time it was taking to feel her lips against your skin and with your pleasure soring, it was now or never.

Chewing at your punctured lip as you fought back the pleasured moans Rhea’s fingers pulled from your chest, your hips eagerly bucking against her. You couldn’t form words as she continued to bury her fingers third knuckle deep into your tight core, your chest beginning to rise and fall in labored pants as they forced their way out of your lungs.

“P-pl-please, Mami.”

You begged, your nails pressing into Rhea’s neck as you greedily rode her palm.

“Please.”

The word was barely air; let alone sound and would have gone unnoticed to anyone else. But as the sound of pleasured begging flooded Rhea’s eardrums, she followed your wordless request and leant forward to once more ravage your flesh. She could not only see the pleasure in your face, but feel it. She knew how to pull you over the edge and it wasn’t with her master finger skills.

Scrapping her sharp teeth over the pulsing point beneath your jugular, Rhea slowly wound her free palm around the length of your neck, her lengthy fingers coiling like a snake around the fragile column before snapping it to the left, exposing the long vein line to her aching gums. You’d begged her for it. For her to take you. Break you. Destroy you. Increasing the pace of her thrusts into your tight walls, you can't help but whimper as Rhea’s palm tightens around your neck and restricts your ability to breath.

“Last chance, Kitten. Sure you don’t want to run?”

Rhea uttered against your skin, the vibration of your pulse beneath her lips driving her insane as she licked the flat of her tongue across your jugular vein. You couldn’t answer her and she knew that, the constriction she had around your throat was almost cutting you dry and all you could manage was to gently bob your head in response to her question. You definitely didn’t want to run, you wanted to cum.

With a few more pulses of Rhea’s skilled fingers into your desperate core, you couldn’t hold back again longer. The band in your stomach wound so tight that you could feel tears behind your lids as you teetered on the edge of release. The sweet taste of your climax hitting like a tidal wave as the sudden sensation of pointed fangs punctured the supple flesh of your throat.

“Oh my… god… fuck!”

You panted as your own grip on Rhea’s neck tightened, your fingertips winding into onyx locks to hold her in place as your high crashed through you like a train. It was completely indescribable and yet it all felt right. You’d chosen to entertain Rhea in her little games all night long and your reward had been worth the wait.

As the warm elixir of your blood coated Rhea’s tongue and down her esophagus her entire form shifted, the energy she’d been lacking returning and her strength increasing ten fold.

Releasing your throat so as to not hurt you, Rhea’s palm slipped to your hip as you rode out your wave against her palm. The counter beneath you became slick with your wetness as she continued her pace with ease, pumping in and out to keep you on your high as long as possible. Feeding was euphoric on its own terms, but as your body trembled beneath her touch Rhea clued in to just how she was making you feel.

Your blood was rich and almost sweet, coating every inch of Rhea’s mouth as she continued to guzzle down the crimson liquid. Her eyes growing darker and darker with each mouth full. She’d never had a problem controlling herself when she was feeding, only inflicting injury on those who’d found themselves on the wrong end of a fight. But there was something about your life’s essence that caught her by surprise, her stomach filling but her desire only growing stronger.

“R-Rhea.”

You stammered. Your grip on her neck falling slack as your mind became fuzzy and your strength to hold on grew weak. The sensations you began to feel swirling in your subconscious as you contemplated letting her finish. ‘It will kill you!’ One side of your mind screamed. ‘But you don’t want to lose this feeling.’ Shouted the other, the two sides arguing causing the brain fog to expand as you whimpered softly. You’d never felt a sensation quite like having Rhea feed from you, the pull of blood leaving your body mixed with that of your mind clouding had you almost floating. Flying above everything as she suckled the life from within your form.

It was as if Rhea knew she needed to stop, the soft sting at your jugular disappearing instantly as she pulled free from your skin. A coat of crimson plastered over her smeared lips as she swallowed back her mouths contents to speak.

“Hey Kitten, talk to me. You doing okay?”

You could hear Rhea’s words and yet somehow still couldn’t answer her. Your high had already fallen, your mind clearing slightly as her muffled words fought to be heard, but with your vision still blurred and your mind still buzzing, you swallowed back with the little strength you had. A sharp wince pulling from your chest as the pain in your throat became noticeable.

“I’m fine.”

You slurred as the soft tips of Rhea’s fingers slid around your chin, her sapphire gaze returning once more as she pulled herself back to human looking status and turned your limp neck to have you face her. The pad of her thumb grazing over your cheekbone as she curiously examined your features. Physically you looked fine, her manicured brow becoming arched as she continued to search your expression.

“I’m fine.”

You repeated, this time a lot more assertive, as a cheeky grin claiming Rhea’s lips. Her palm still cradled around your chin and supporting your head, she couldn’t help the small chortle that vibrated in her chest.

“So it was just that good, huh?”

Rhea’s brow arched slightly as she licked her plush tongue over crimson stained lips, cleaning up every last drop of your blood that stained her kiss as you watched her closely. You could see the tiny shift in her ocean gaze as your blood cleansed her palate, your own lip rolling beneath your lips in you held in a small whimper.

“Better than the books.”

You uttered, a small laugh muffling in your mouth as you held your lips tightly with your teeth. Of course you had no idea what it would truly feel like, your imagination not even beginning to create such imagery as you’d written such a moment. Being with a vampire was supposed to be fantasy.

Rhea chuckled softly as she smoothed her thumb over the punctures left by her fangs, a small stinging sensation shooting up your spine as her pressure against the open wound increased slightly. Your lips falling lax as delicate moan pushed passed them, the same pleasure you’d felt as she fed from you bubbling to the surface.

“I’ve got one last treat for you, Kitten.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you begin to play off what else she could possibly do for you, hers sapphire hues keeping you very captivated as you hum a delicate tone.

“What else could you possibly have prepared for me, Mami?”

You purr as a singular finger lifting to trail over the perfect curve of Rhea’s jawline, your tongue coaxing over your lower lip as thick lashes flutter slightly. You’d known each other less than a few hours and yet somehow you’d found yourself willing to do anything in order to keep her around.

Watching you intently, Rhea’s lips curve into an impish smirk, her palm dropping from your cheek and moving to the supple plush of her lips in a fluid motion. The darkness in her gaze glimmering back to the surface, only for a few seconds as she ripped open the cluster of veins in her wrist.

“One, I can’t let you walk out of here with that.”

Rhea’s gaze flicked to the wound upon your neck and then swiftly back to her wrist as a small pool of blood formed against her skin. Sapphire pools rising up to meet your gaze with an almost protective smirk.

“And two, you're mine now, remember and I’m not done claiming you yet.”

Blood bonding. Was she serious? You didn’t expect to ever see Rhea again after tonight, but if you knew anything about the supposed existence of blood bonding between supernaturals you’d never be able to leave her side again. A sires bond, linked to each other no matter how far apart the world tried to pull you.

“You’re asking me to—”

Your words trail off quickly, your crystal gaze still locked with Rhea’s as your tongue pushes through your lips. You were definitely curious, did a vampire's blood taste different to your own? But could you take the risk of locking this woman into your life forever?

“No.”

The tone in Rhea’s voice dropped, the authoritative demeanor she now held making the words that fell from her lips a clear order.

“I’m telling you to.”

You swallow nervously, certain you’d obey her before you’d even fully processed the request as you sit up right on the sink ledge and adjust the hem of your dress. You didn’t even want to think what your hair looked like as you pulled a palm through the sweaty tangles, coughing lightly to clear your throat as you took one last moment to breathe.

“Do you trust me?”

It was strange to you how Rhea could almost play two completely different people, the dominance of her darker self and concern of her human form playing hand in hand as she spoke to you. The demanding attitude from before instantly replaced with protectiveness as she sensed your nerves.

Bringing both of your palms to hold them together in her lap as you looked down at twitching fingers, you inhaled one last breath before and focused on steadying your heart as you looked up in search of Rhea’s gaze. Looking into the depths of her eyes was calming, like looking out and the ocean and you knew if you could find her pools all would be okay.

The warmth behind Rhea’s gaze as you found it was the most comforting it had been all night, all the darkness within her almost melting away as she waited for your answer. She couldn’t let you leave the bathroom with such a disaster upon your throat, but she didn’t want to force anything on you unless she had too.

“I trust you.”

You finally uttered. Your words weren’t loud but they were loud enough for Rhea to hear as she took a small step closer to you, positioning herself perfectly between your thighs as her free palm cradled your neck.

You could almost smell the richness of Rhea’s blood as you wrapped both your palms around her wrist, your mouth unexpectedly flooding with saliva as you took in the sight before you. It was now or never, you wanted this moment to mean something. You wanted to show her that you’d felt something between you that you were willing to bond together and not have this moment be ruined by her forcing it all on you.

“Feed me and make me yours.”

You whisper, an impish grin claiming your lips as you coated blunt teeth with your tongue and lean gently against Rhea’s palm.

“Forever.”

- - - - -

TAGLIST: @coolbeans-17 @rebecca-quin @jemilyforever @marvel1995 @ripleyxo @littlemiss-fanficlover @12emi26 @riverscyberwife @ellabsdarling @lostintimeandmusic @imjohnnycake @55tarboy @jaye500 @call-me-a-simp @girlofpink @mizfortunez @eradicatabitch @jinxeilish @witchyweeb34 @bl0w-m3 @realskyewalker66

[aingeal98]

I don't think Damian was insecure because Cassandra was a closer part of the family than he was, especially considering that at that point in time he was wasn't fully invested in being a part of the family as he is now (also lets be real, its not like Cass is the center of the family or anything.)

I think it was more of case of him putting her on a pedestal based on what he heard about her, since her reputation probably made her seem like the ideal version of himself that he was told to aspire to all his life, so he was probably hoping that she was similar to him in some way as a form of self-validation, but when he did meet her it probably made him feel very conflicted since she didn't live up to his exceptions.

So in his mind it probably started out like "I'm supposed to be perfect and Cassandra Cain is already perfect, so she's probably very similar to me and I need to aspire to be more like her, which would be easy since we're already very similar to each other" then when he did meet her it went on to become" "Wait that's Cassandra Cain? But she's nothing like me?! Does that mean I'm not perfect after all and everything I'm doing is wrong? No.....its her who is doing everything wrong" so him butting-heads with her was him grasping at straws since putting her down would be easier than for him to accept that what he was aspiring to become all this time was the wrong image and he didn't want to start from scratch by believing in a new version of the ideal him (which thankfully he did end up doing at the end, he just was unsure if it was really what he wanted for himself at that point.)

Either ways its crazy that this plot-line didn't have any follow ups and no writers tried to have interact with each other again in almost 15 years.

I half agree with this, because I do think that Damian would have put Cass on a pedestal before meeting her. And I feel like part of him would have felt betrayed when they did meet and instead of being someone he could relate to, she was chatting with Dick and Tim and connecting over their shared history. The framing in those panels from Gates of Gotham where the trio are strategising and Damian is sitting away from them watching feels very deliberate. But I do think insecurity plays a role in that. You came to a new country all alone to meet your father but now he's dead and you're stuck with a bunch of older people meant to be your siblings and here comes one who was trained from birth to fight as a league funded project and yet... She clicks with your other siblings more than you? I think it would for sure make Damian feel more insecure even if he wasn't fully invested in becoming a part of the family, and he'd almost feel irrationally betrayed by Cass for not living up to the version he had in his head that was meant to ease said insecurity over this new "family" of his instead of making it worse and making him feel even more alone.

I can definitely see that thought process you describe in his head though. He's a genius technically but he is only ten and if something is wrong then either he's the problem or Cass is the problem, no room yet for emotional complexity. And he refuses to be wrong (similar to a certain sister of his who refuses to lose shhh who said that) so he's just going to have to butt heads with Cass until everyone including her understands that he's right and she's wrong, simple!

We deserved so much more of them working together. Gates of Gotham was a great start and I love that it's forever canon that their first act of sibling bonding was blowing up the batboat together. But we deserved so much more.

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 17: and so the game is set

word count: 2,465 tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @bellabarnes1378 | @johnmurphys-sass

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air as the Shelby family gathered around the table. John paced, his boots scuffing the wooden floor with each sharp turn, while Arthur leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Finn sat at the table, fidgeting with his lighter, his usually easy-going demeanor replaced with nervous energy. Michael quietly swirled a glass of whiskey in the corner. Polly, ever composed, stood near Tommy, her sharp eyes flicking over the room.

Tommy sat at the head of the table, his expression cold, unreadable, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He hadn’t spoken yet, waiting as the others vented their frustrations.

“This is the third fucking time this week,” John snapped, his voice sharp. “First, it’s the shipment on its way to Birmingham, then the warehouse in Coventry. Now, he’s torching one of our pubs in Camden.”

Arthur grunted, his voice low and gravelly. “This is beyond sending a message, Tom. He's trying to cripple us.”

"Yeah, well, it's fuckin' workin', isn't it?" John snapped.

Polly’s voice cut through the tension. “It’s not about us.” The others turned to look at her, but her gaze was fixed on Tommy. “It’s about her.”

Finn shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the lighter slipping from his fingers and clattering onto the table. “Bingham’s after y/n, yeah?” he muttered.

John scoffed. “No shit. But why’s he fuckin' with us? If he wants her, why not go straight for her?”

“Because she’s under our protection,” Polly said sharply, her tone firm. “He wants to draw her out. Make her feel like she’s a liability, like she’s putting all of you in danger, so she'll leave on her own accord.”

Arthur’s fists clenched at his sides. “Well, it’s working, isn’t it? She’s already holed up at Arrow House, can barely move without us watching over her.”

“Arthur.” The room fell silent as everyone turned to Tommy. He exhaled a plume of smoke. “Bingham’s not trying to break her. He’s trying to break us first. He knows if he keeps pressing, we’ll start to question whether she’s worth the trouble.”

John’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing at his sides. “Then he’s barking up the wrong fucking tree.”

“Would we?” Finn asked quietly, his voice hesitant. “We wouldn't... We wouldn't actually—”

Arthur turned on him, his voice a low growl. “She took a bullet, Finn. Saved John's skin. And Tommy's. That makes her one of us.”

Polly stepped forward, her voice calm but unyielding. “She is more than capable of handling herself, but Bingham is exploiting her one weakness: she cares about all of you. And he knows it.”

The family exchanged grim glances. Until now, they hadn't considered how you felt about them, dismissing it as loyalty, not something as deep as care or concern.

“She doesn’t want us dragged into this,” Michael said, almost to himself. “That’s why she’s been so off.”

Tommy stubbed out his cigarette. “That’s exactly what Bingham wants. Isolate her and make her think she’s better off walking away.”

Polly’s eyes softened, just slightly, as she looked at Tommy. “And you’re not going to let that happen.”

Tommy’s gaze flickered to her, then back to the table. “No.”

John stopped pacing, leaning on the back of one of the chairs. “So what’s the plan, then? Sit around and wait for him to strike again?”

“No,” Tommy said, his voice calm but firm. “We make him come to us.”

Arthur frowned. “How? He’s been playing it smart, picking off the edges of our operations. He’s not stupid enough to walk into a trap.”

“We need to control the board again,” Tommy continued, his voice steady. “He underestimates how far we’ll go to protect our own, but we need to know how he'll show his hand.”

“And y/n?” Polly asked, her voice softer now. “How far will you go for her, Tommy?”

He didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed on the cigarette in his hand.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The meeting was set on Tommy’s terms—neutral ground, but entirely orchestrated by the Shelbys. An abandoned factory on the outskirts of Birmingham, its cavernous halls swallowed the sound of approaching footsteps. The chill in the air was biting, but Tommy barely noticed, his mind focused entirely on the man he was about to face. John and Arthur flanked him as they approached the table set in the middle of the empty space. The Shelbys had arrived first, as planned, ensuring they controlled the environment. Men loyal to the Blinders waited in the shadows, armed and ready, though Tommy’s orders were clear: hold fire unless he signaled.

Bingham arrived precisely on time, a calculated move that didn’t escape Tommy’s attention. The man walked with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his tailored coat swaying as he approached. Two men followed him, their hands hovering near their coats, but they stopped when Bingham raised his hand.

“Mr. Shelby,” Bingham greeted, his tone smooth as he sat across from the Blinders. “I appreciate the invitation. Though I must admit, your hospitality feels… Dare I say, prickly.”

Tommy didn’t smile, didn’t blink. He lit a cigarette, letting the silence stretch before finally speaking. “You’ve been busy, Alfred.”

Bingham leaned back, feigning casualness. “I’ve been investing my time wisely. Disrupting this city is hardly a chore when your people seem so… distracted.” His eyes gleamed as he added, “She’s quite the distraction, isn’t she?”

Arthur’s fists clenched, and John bristled, but Tommy raised his hand, keeping them in check.

A devious grin stretched over Bingham's face, one of mania and a love of chaos. “Enlighten me, Mr. Shelby. You seem quite invested in this little venture of mine. After all, the pawns must fall before I can reach the King—or in this case, the Queen. If that's what you consider her.”

“I told you once before. We don't take kindly to strangers touching our property,” Tommy continued, his voice low and steady. “And you've done just that.” He leaned forward slightly, his icy gaze locking onto Bingham's. “You will be beneath that rubble before the week is up.”

Bingham’s smirk faltered, just slightly. He chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Bold words, Shelby. But let’s not pretend this is about your family. This is about y/n, is it not?”

Your name hung in the air, charged with unspoken tension.

“She’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Bingham continued, his tone dripping with disdain. “Always has been. I’m surprised you’ve tolerated her this long. Or is it something else? Something more… personal?”

Arthur shifted, but Tommy stayed perfectly still, his expression unreadable.

Bingham leaned forward, his voice low. “Don't tell me... You fucked her, didn't you? No... You don't seem so simple as to be effected by one night." His eyes widened with rabid curiosity. "You're in love with her."

Tommy's lip twitched in the slightest, wondering if Bingham was prodding him for the truth or if he really knew.

"You can be honest with me, it's alright. You must have a... Savior complex. You think you can protect her from me, from herself. That woman is truly bewitching, so I cannot fault you. But she's always running, always hiding. And you think you can save her? She doesn’t want to be saved, Shelby. She belongs to no one, but, in time, she will have to make a decision.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “You’re right about one thing. She’s not mine. But she’s not yours either.”

Bingham's eyes narrowed. He smirked, clearly enjoying the friction. "Ah, but she was. You see, Tommy, y/n was never truly meant for this world of yours. Not really. Not when she could have so much more—when she should be so much more. You think she belongs here with you, but she was always mine. My prodigal protégée. I taught her everything she knows. Has she told you about me?"

Tommy stiffened at the phrase. Prodigal protégée. It stung in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He'd never fully understood the hold Bingham had on you, but hearing it spoken so plainly stirred something deep within him—something protective and possessive that he had long buried.

"That's the thing about protégée's," Tommy finally spoke, his voice cold and flat, though the muscles in his shoulders twitched with a restrained fury. He could feel the anger bubbling beneath the surface, wanting to break free. "Eventually, they leave. She already made her choice. She’s not going back."

Bingham chuckled softly, a low sound that was almost mocking. "Oh, she hasn’t made her decision yet, Tommy. Not truly. You’re fooling yourself if you think she’s all in with you. All of this? The Blinders? It’s not her world. Not really. She’s just playing a part for now. She's smarter than that. Though, I suppose it's not your fault that you can't see that."

John's eyes flickered to Tommy, watching him closely, knowing his mind was working. "Fuck this guy, Tom. Let's fucking end this already."

Bingham leaned back in his chair, his grin widening like a serpent preparing to strike. "John Shelby, am I correct? How well do you know her, John? I know exactly what she’s been running from. What she's done. I hope, for your sake, you aren't in love with her, too. After all, the last man who loved her met a sticky ending. I'm sure she told you about Ezra. Poor fellow. Such a... Messy death. Foaming at the mouth. Convulsing... It was unsightly. So, if you think she’s over all that—if you think she’s really free of me—well, you’re more deluded than I thought."

Tommy’s fist clenched, but he didn’t move. Ezra—the name hit Tommy like a physical blow, a reminder of everything that had gone wrong in the past, everything that you had lost. He knew what Bingham was doing—he was pushing him, trying to force him into a corner. And, deep down, Tommy hated it. Because Bingham knew. He knew the way you carried that guilt with you all these years, the burden you refused to speak of, and now Bingham was using it against you—and against him.

Bingham saw the flicker of doubt in Tommy’s eyes. It was brief, but it was there. "Your face betrays you, Mr. Shelby. I taught her that as well, how to read people. A face can reveal so much, and right now, your face is telling me that some part of you also believes she's the reason her former beloved is dead in the ground. The other part tells me that despite this doubt, your lust for her forces you to doubt what the facts tell you. She will falter, and the Peaky Blinders will simply be collateral damage."

Tommy felt the anger and frustration rising, his pulse quickening. He opened his mouth to respond, but Arthur beat him to it, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"She didn't have us back then though, did she?" Arthur smirked. "Reckon you don't realize what that means."

"It means we'll put you in the fuckin' ground," John sneered.

Bingham’s smirk returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Look at all of you. Trying to protect her like a rabid dog. Or perhaps, she's the piece of meat you three fight over. Y/n made her choice when she tried to walk away, but she’ll make another one soon enough.”

Tommy stood abruptly, snuffing out his cigarette with a forceful twist. John and Arthur mirrored his movement, their postures taut with restrained anger.

“We’re done here,” Tommy said coldly. “Enjoy whatever time you’ve got left. It won’t be much.”

Bingham stood slowly, adjusting his coat. “It was a pleasure meeting you officially, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, one devoid of warmth.

As Bingham and his men left, John turned to Tommy, his voice low. “You think he’s bluffing?”

Tommy’s gaze remained fixed on the door Bingham had just exited. “No. He’s planning something.”

Arthur huffed with a grunt. “Then why let him walk out?”

Tommy lit another cigarette, the glow illuminating his steely eyes. “Because now we know exactly where he stands. And when he makes his move, we’ll meet him there.”

The brothers nodded, the weight of what was to come settling over them. Tommy exhaled a long breath, his thoughts already racing ahead. Bingham had made this personal, and Tommy Shelby never lost when it was personal.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The news came to Tommy as the brothers regrouped in the Garrison later that evening, the meeting with Bingham still a lingering storm cloud. The bar was quieter than usual, tension making even the usual rowdy regulars keep their voices low. Arthur poured himself a drink at the counter, grumbling under his breath, while John leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes scanning the room as though expecting to emerge from the dark.

Finn burst through the doors, his face pale, a streak of dirt across his cheek. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by something darker—fear, tinged with fury.

“Tommy!” he called, breathless.

Arthur turned sharply, the glass in his hand clinking against the counter. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s bad,” Finn said, swallowing hard as he stepped closer. “Canal Street warehouse—torched while you were on your way back. Took out everything inside—cash, guns, booze. All of it gone.”

Arthur slammed his glass down, the sharp sound echoing through the room. “The bastards waited till we were sitting with him. That fuckin'—”

“There’s more,” Finn interrupted, his voice lower now. “They didn’t just hit the warehouse. They went after Charlie’s yard.”

That name landed like a bomb. Tommy’s eyes sharpened, the icy calm of his demeanor cracking just slightly.

“Charlie’s yard?” he repeated, his voice deadly quiet.

Finn nodded, his jaw tight. “They roughed up some of the boys there. Left a message… said you can’t protect everything.”

Arthur’s face darkened, and he reached for his coat. “That’s it. We go now. We take the fight to them.”

John nodded, his anger barely restrained. “We should’ve finished him at that bloody meeting!”

But Tommy held up a hand, silencing them both. His mind was already working, the pieces of this new game falling into place. Bingham hadn’t just struck at their operations—he’d struck at their family. It was bold, reckless even, but it was also effective.

His brothers exchanged glances but ultimately nodded. Tommy’s way had always been the way that got results.

As the others dispersed to prepare for what was to come, Tommy sat alone at the table, staring into the glass in front of him. He knew Bingham was pushing all the right buttons, trying to draw him into a fight on his terms. But this wasn’t just about strategy anymore. This was all out war, and death would surely follow.

[myfandomrealitea]

ok I’ll be honest, I was one of the people who approached your safe space post with the mindset “yeah, but…” like, I now whole-heartedly agree that there should absolutely be fandom spaces devoid of real world issues. We all need our spaces to rest and relax. I think I just felt weird about your post because previously ive been in fandom spaces which did operate on the (perfectly fine) rule of ‘no politics’…but ‘politics’ would also include talking about a gay ship or any queer headcannons.

That obviously wasn’t fair to you because you obviously didn’t mean that w/ your post, but I can personally see as to why some people would feel that way if they were in similar fandom spaces. I do still want to reiterate I do agree with your post and I think some of the rebloggers took it…a bit far? Like Jesus Christ some of y’all need to eat a snickers. I also think some of the wording like “bitching about world issues” and “whining about their shitty parents” might’ve thrown me off but that’s not your fault and really a non-issue 🤷🏽‍♀️

you can delete this ask if you want I really won’t mind, I think I can just see as to why there were so many ‘yeah, but…’ rebloggers.

I actually really appreciate asks like this. For a multitude of reasons, but also because it gives really good insight and outer perspective for both me and other people who are aware of or involved in the discussion.

I think what a lot of people don't yet grasp about me is that while I may hold an opposing view to yours (general, not directed), in the vast majority of cases I still very much understand why people would think the way they do and where that thought process comes from and goes.

Its very, very easy to fall into the mindset of thinking that not helping when you have the ability to makes you a bad person or however in/directly causes suffering. Its very easy to be in the mindset of one single individual making a magnitude of difference.

I fully and genuinely understand and comprehend a lot of the points being brought up.

I just don't agree with them and hold a different outlook on those issues.

For example:

Talking about enjoying a queer ship to me is not 'political' in the sense that, personally, if you're a homophobe and upset by generic conversations about queer people, I really could not give a fuck. And if you raise objections to me talking about two dudes kissing, I'm simply going to remove you from my space because clearly it is not beneficial for either of us to share it. And I made it.

Its obviously very very much down to personal discretion to decide where that line is and what that bracket encompasses, but I think the most universal aspect of that safe space post was trying to get people to understand that forcing others to suffer in solidarity isn't activism and that strangers are not obligated to allow you to use them as support and a dumping ground for your needs.

Spreading around videos of people's dead loved ones isn't activism.

Spamming taglines and buzzwords on completely unrelated posts and videos isn't activism.

Relying on complete strangers for emotional and mental support and regulation while dumping vulnerable, graphic, personal information on them is neither safe nor healthy.

People are not obligated to smother or confine their happiness because of your misery. If you're having a bad day you have no right to tell other people they can't be happy in front of you.

A lot of people, mostly white knighters and people of color took the post as "a white privileged pig saying its okay to let racism slide because you want to play your video games" (actual hate mail I received) and that's so laughably and wildly far from the actual basis of the post.

I've had bigots in my servers before. Homophobes or racists who've slipped through the cracks.

You know what happens when they say something homophobic or racist?

They're immediately removed, blocked and reported, and their information is placed in a private document I keep. I issue an apology to the members of the server for their actions, and life goes on.

People are, of course, entitled to take the post as they see fit. They're entitled to their own perspectives and opinions. I'm more than happy to simply focus on the people who have taken support, guidance and solace in the post.

[wolfstargazer]

What we fight for - a wolfstargazer microfic

For my American friends. Courage, dear hearts

Sirius sat staring into the fire. The house had grown dark around him. And with it, the fear and doubt had begun to creep in.

Remus had found him long after the others had left. His thunderous outburst at the kitchen table had upset Molly, and had drawn Snape's cool yet pointed comments about how "it must be easy to have lots of opinions about how the Order could be doing things from the luxury of being shut up in his home."

Sirius had controlled his temper but only by leaving the room. The rest of the meeting had gone on without incident, and as Molly left she pleaded with Remus to help "Make him see sense."

But Remus was not Sirius' father nor jailer. He was tired of being cast in the role. And so he had sat in the kitchen on his own, made himself a cup of tea, and waited a suitable time before going to find him.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said automatically, emptily, as Remus entered, closing the door behind him.

"Don't," Remus cut across him, moving swiftly over to where Sirius was sitting and dropping to his knees before him. In the uncertain firelight, he registered Sirius' surprise. "I don't want you to apologise."

The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corners of Sirius' mouth. But he seemed to be fighting it as he said, darkly, "I'm going to go mad, you know that, don't you? And there's not a thing I can do to stop it?"

Remus placed his hands on Sirius' knees and gave them a light squeeze, but said nothing.

Sirius let out an exhalation, like a breath he'd been holding for some time, and swore up to the ceiling.

"What are we doing, Moony? What is the point? It seems to me that the world wants to sleepwalk towards its own destruction. Maybe we should let it?"

Sirius searched Remus' face, and Remus could see a fear in Sirius' eyes, raw and desperate, that also crept into his voice as he whispered, "I'm so tired of fighting."

Remus crept his hands towards Sirius and took both his hands in his. Flesh found flesh. Palm met palm. Remus entwined their fingers and lowered his head to plant a brief kiss on the back of Sirius' hand.

Sirius made a low noise. Remus looked at him - his bright, brilliant, fearless friend, the best man he'd ever known - and whispered, "We fight for them. Because they fought for us. We fight for Harry. And, perhaps more importantly, we fight for this...for us..."

Remus tightened his grasp on Sirius' hands.

Sirius softened, sighed, and Remus held his gaze as he said, softly, "It might not be much. But it is everything."

Sirius said nothing for a moment, then moved, inching forwards, bringing their foreheads together. Remus felt the tickle of Sirius' hair on his face. Sirius placed his hands on either side of Remus' face and agreed, "It is everything."

[cherubic-cherry]

His eyes almost closed before he saw a small stack of paper cross his vision, accompanied with a large box of thin-tipped crayola markers.

“Just a bit longer,” Bruce muttered to him, leaning out of his chair to whisper directly into Tim’s ear. He must’ve noticed Tim almost nodding off.

He was ashamed, Bruce had brought him to Wayne enterprise after Tim showed interest in his work, going out of his way to feed into Tim’s curiosity.

And what does Tim do? He spaces out the entire time and probably has embarrassed Bruce in front of his employees.

Tim hated it, but he couldn’t help it, something about the boards words made them slip out of Tim’s brain like sand. Tim’s body was beginning to feel weighed down, the extra sounds was turning out to be quite the affective replacement for a white noise machine.

Bruce didn’t seem exasperated, not by any means of the word.

“ Bernie tends to take up 85% of these meetings droning on, and 50% of that is just talking about his cat, once he wraps up we’ll be almost done. Try drawing something for Damian, he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

Tim was sure that somebody at the table heard what Bruce had said; he was not great at whispering, but they all willingly ignored it. Even going so far as to turn their heads away from Tim and Bruce.

Tim allowed himself a quiet giggle at the joke, making sure it was not loud enough to disturb. Looking down at the papers that were set in front of him and was scandalized by the concept.

It was another remainder that the Wayne’s had yet to grasp what was age appropriate for a 9 year old. For goodness sake, Tim spent his time trying to hack into the Bat-computer, not coloring.

It was juvenile, as well, that Bruce had packed the markers in his bag meant that he had premeditated the fact that Tim would use eventually get bored and need them.

Tim would be wounded from the assumption if it wasn’t proven true.

The young boy subtly took out three markers: yellow, green, black and red. He would make Damian a drawing of the Robin symbol just so he can show Damian and see him try to hide the pride off of his face.

Given how easily Damian is impressed by him, he’ll make comments about its accuracy and detail.

Tim carefully traced the edges of the design, it was image Tim was easily able to conjure up in his head.

He shaded it in carefully, making sure that the colors didn’t blend together; he became so engrossed in the task that he didn’t notice that Bruce took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around Tim’s shoulder.

He did, however, notice that the extra warmth added on to his drowsiness, making it all the more easy to allow his head to sink down onto the paper.

The voices of the board became more and more distant, slowly fading to a whisper.

Tim was able to catch a few words, something about wrapping up and Tuesday and ‘getting the kiddo home’ or ‘getting the kitten home’ either one didn’t make much sense.

He tried to put together the words, like pieces of a puzzle, but they all fleeted away the moment he heard something else.

He felt a heavy weight on his shoulder, a pleasant one yet it attempted to pull him away from his light slumber, which was something that Tim was adamantly against at that moment.

“Abba? ‘m tired,” Tim mumbled groggily, feeling Bruce’s arm wrap around him. He curled into the extra warmth, desperate for anything that will imitate the comfort of a mattress.

“We’re going home now Tim,” Bruce said softly, so soft that Tim wasn’t able to register what Bruce had said and wake himself up for the trip home. Instead he left Bruce with all the complications and allowed himself to slip into that last layer of sleep.

Read the story here:

[heyiwrotesomethings]

🐉 anon here! I hope you're doing alright! I hope these request won't be too much! Would it be okay if you wrote about Shinobu with a s/o, she/her, who has that dragon tattoo? Possibly a criminal syndicate but wants to leave her family because of how bad they have gotten! The family found her at a younge age and took her in, becoming the imitating woman she is. But what her boss asks of her is too much and not what she wants to do. So she tries to leave and stagger away from the family, meeting Shinobu in the process! She would be seen as a monster, but she really does have a good heart. Maybe even a slow burn with Shinobu? Those are my favorites! While she stays or keeps meeting Shinobu, the family finds her and roughs her up, she kicks thier ass but ends up being taking down. The boss would come in and try to cut her pinkie off, but Shinobu comes in being the badass queen that she is and deals with him herself, and saves her s/o, with a happy ending! Again, I hope this isn't too much to ask! I love your work!

What Is Right

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: Here you go, sorry it took so long! I hope it’s alright, I am having trouble with the December requests that are left. 😫 Word Count: 5,640

“Aniki, are you sure about this? Is there really no other way?”

“Of course not,” Akira scrutinized his adopted younger sister, put off by her reluctance, “That cowardly man’s betrayal killed my father, our father.” He hissed, crushing the remains of his cigarette in his hand, ignoring the burn.

“Then, if it’s absolutely necessary, shouldn’t it just be him who has to pay?” (Y/n) risked speaking out against him yet again, “Why kill his family, but leave him be?”

“It sends a message!” Akira shouted, “He’ll know not to fuck with us again. He’ll be forced to confront what he took from me, us. Don’t you understand, (Y/n)? That’s why I’m telling you this.” He grasped her shoulder a little to tightly to be friendly or comforting. “I’m trusting you to bring honor back to this family. That dragon tattoo on your back isn’t just for show, its supposed to mean something. It’s what unites all of us. Otosan loved you like you were his own flesh and blood. If you want this band of misfits, your family, to continue to have a legacy, you will do this.”

“But, they’re only little kids. Not even his wife knows the shady shit he’s dealing in. And it’s not just that… we’ve been pushing away our allies with the decisions you’ve been making in Otosan’s stead—“

“Do you think this is easy?!” Akira shouted again, getting in (Y/n)’s face, she stayed remarkably calm despite this, “I was chosen to make the choices that no one else has the guts to make! This is what has to be done!”

“I just can’t do it, Aniki.” (Y/n) shook her head, “It’s more than and eye for an eye to me. I think you’re asking for too much.”

“You either do this, or you will be marked as a scourge on this family. The family that gave you everything when you had nothing. You think you repaid us for that debt yet?” He asked coldly.

“I doubt I ever could.” (Y/n) murmured, focusing on her breathing to keep a calm appearance, “I’ll… prepare then.”

Akira searched her eyes for a long moment before straightening up again, “Good. Go on, then. I expect results. You have a week.”

“Very well.” (Y/n) bowed before the young man who had used to be so carefree, then got up and took her leave.

***

It had been a couple days since (Y/n) had that meeting with Akira, and she had yet to carry out her mission. She had shadowed the happily unaware family in that time, and it only made the reality of what she had to do even harder.

She was running out of time, only a few more days before her once beloved Aniki would call her back and put her through god knows what for disobeying him. So she decided to do what any decent person tasked with killing a burgeoning family would do, and got wasted. If she couldn’t do it sober, perhaps she could do it drunk.

But of course that plan went south quickly. Instead of gearing herself up for a bloodbath she was drunkenly sobbing in the izakaya. She had never had to kill anyone before, hustle and intimidate, rough-up, sure, but never with the intent to irreversibly maim or kill. The very public moral dilemma (Y/n) was having was finally brought outside when the owner of the establishment cut her off and sent on her way, leaving her to drunkenly stumble down the road alone.

She barely knew where she was, but that didn’t stop her from picking a direction and lumbering away. She didn’t really care where she’d end up. She wasn’t going to be welcomed back to the family unless she had carried out her job, and she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew she’d never be able to go through with it.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Her foot rolled over a pebble as she said this and unable to correct herself, she fell sideways, half in the path, half in the woods. Instead of attempting to get up, she just laid there. Not long after her tumble, she heard the crunch of gravel from the main path, the sound eventually coming to a stop right where she had fallen.

“Oh dear, have we had a little too much to drink tonight?”

(Y/n) managed to sit up on her elbows a bit so she could peer back into the path and her breath caught in her throat. Standing over her was a downright ethereal woman. Oh no, had she hit her head on a jagged rock on the way down? Had she died? Well, that put an end to one dilemma at least.

“Woah,” She said, oh so eloquently, “beautiful.”

“Oh my, thank you.” She chuckled, causing (Y/n)’s heart to stutter. “Here, give me your hands, let me help you up.”

(Y/n) didn’t need to be asked twice, she took hold of the strangers hands, a little more calloused than she would have imagined, and clumsily rose to her feet, almost falling back down a few times in the process.

“You can hardly even stand up. We had better get you home so you can sleep this off. I hope you will have learned your lesson about such heavy drinking when you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.”

Home… (Y/n) sobered just a bit.

“I, I can’t go home!” (Y/n)’s shoulders drooped and the buzz she had going fell flat, “I have no home to go back to anymore.”

The woman gave her a sympathetic look then seemed to be contemplating something before finally speaking again.

“Then I suppose you can stay with me for the night. It’s too dangerous to be out alone at night sober, much less drunk.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage.”

“Don’t be difficult,” the woman sighed, “either walk with me, or I’ll drag you along. Your choice.”

(Y/n) laughed half-heartedly. “The way my feet keep tripping up you’ll probably have to drag me anyway.”

“I can see that.” She smirked, putting one of (Y/n)’s arms over her shoulders to help her keep her balance.

“My name is (Y/n) by the way.”

“And mine is Shinobu.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shinobu.”

Shinobu hummed, but did not outwardly share the sentiment and somewhere in (Y/n)’s drunk brain she had the sense to be a bit embarrassed. What a wonderful first impression she had made, laying on the side of the road, drunk off her ass.

“I swear this is not normal behavior for me, you just caught me at a really bad time.”

“I’m not judging you, we all deal with grief in our own ways.” Shinobu told her.

“Grief?”

“Based on the puffiness around your eyes and the way the moon catches on your cheeks, how sore your voice sounds, you have been crying a lot, haven’t you?” She clinically deduced.

Grief… that would be an apt way to describe what (Y/n) had been feeling since her adoptive father had been killed, since everything she thought she knew about her family had crumbled in his absence. How Akira was spiraling in the name of revenge. How heavy and constricting the ink engraved upon her back felt as the days dragged on. How quickly things had changed.

Shinobu led her to an incredible mansion that she couldn’t help but gawk at. The inside was just as impressive. She had half the mind to ask Shinobu if she was a noblewoman, but by the time she had recovered enough to ask, she had already been led to a guest room.

“Drink this water and then rest. I will see you in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Shinobu gave a short nod and smiled before closing the door.

(Y/n) staggered into the cot and fell into a sleep like death mere moments later.

***

The next morning, almost afternoon, actually, (Y/n) awoke with a brain splitting pain. She could hear whispering around her, but they might as well have been screaming. She groaned pitifully and weakly attempted to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Oh! She’s waking up.”

“Is Shinobu-sama’s medicine ready?”

“I have it right here. Excuse me… Can you sit up please? We have medicine for your headache.”

(Y/n) grunted, slowly sitting up and then putting her head in her hands. Her head was swimming and she immediately wanted to lay back down, but a cup of sludgy looking medicine was soon put under her nose.

“Make sure to drink it all.”

“The smell may be off-putting, but it works really well.”

“Once you get some food and water in you, you’ll feel a lot better.”

Beyond the smelly hangover cure, (Y/n) could smell something good enough to make her mouth water. With great resolve, she downed the medicine and suppressed a gag, finally looking up at the three young girls working around her.

“Thanks,” she sighed, “sorry, I’m normally not such a mess.”

“Shinobu-sama said you were going through a difficult time. We aren’t judging.” The girl with pink butterfly clips promised.

“Here,” the girl with pigtails offered her a generous tray of food, “eat up.”

“You’ll feel better in no time.” The girl with braided hair smiled.

“Thank you all so much, really. This is fantastic.” (Y/n) said between bites.

“We will be sure to let Aoi-san know you enjoyed her cooking.” The girls beamed.

As (Y/n) ate, she chatted with the girls, learning all about the Butterfly Estate and all of its inhabitants. She also learned about the mansion’s purpose, to provide shelter and care to the injured. After her meal had settled, (Y/n) felt almost normal. There was still a bit of a dull throbbing in her skull every once in awhile, but given how much she drank the night before, it was amazing how much good that medicine did for her. She didn’t want to go back to her reality. She wished she didn’t have to leave this oasis.

“So, where is Shinobu now? I wanted to thank her before I left.” (Y/n) asked once she helped the girls clean and prepare the room for any new guests that may need it.

“Oh, she had something come up earlier this morning so she couldn’t come by to check on you herself.” Kiyo explained.

“She probably won’t be back until much later in the evening.” Sumi nodded.

“But we will make sure to let her know when she comes back.” Naho promised.

(Y/n)’s shoulders slumped slightly with disappointment. She had made such a poor first impression, she was hoping to end on a good note at least. There was also the fact that every moment (Y/n) was here, was another moment away from facing her reality. Maybe she could stall just a little bit longer.

“I’d really like to tell her myself… ah! What if I helped you guys with your work until she gets back? Would that be alright? Then I could really show my gratitude to you all.”

The girls gave it a little thought, but saw no harm in getting a little extra help for the day, so they happily agreed. (Y/n) spent the rest of the day sweeping, dusting and washing bedding. She was a little clumsy, and bit too rough and almost ripped the sheets she was scrubbing, but she got the hang of it. It was a lot different from the work her adoptive father would give her.

As she worked, she found out there was more to this infirmary than met the eye. She learned about demon slayers and was fascinated by their cause. It all seemed so noble to her, risking their lives to save unaware people like her from demons who roamed the night. She owed Shinobu more than she knew for last night.

When Shinobu came home around dinner time, she was surprised to see her guest was still there and even more surprised when said guest fell to her knees before her, thanking her so thoroughly for her good deed. Stunned, she blinked slowly then worked her mildly surprised expression back into a kind, yet reserved smile.

“Oh my, you are much more chipper than you were last night. Thank you very much, but please stand, there is no need for any of that.”

(Y/n) stood, but let it be known how much Shinobu deserved every second of praise and appreciation. She bowed again, but only at the waist. It was at that point the younger girls decided to chime in, telling Shinobu about all the tasks (Y/n) had helped them with during the day, so of course Shinobu offered to let her stay for dinner as well, and since the sky was darkening, she invited her to stay another night. Before they knew it, an extra night became two, then three, then—

(Y/n) was running out of time. Her week was almost up, just one more day. She had a decision to make, and she wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to get to this point, as there was only one correct course of action.

Early that morning, she leapt out of bed to make the treck back to the city. She would come back, of course. She promised Shinobu she would fix all of the clunky sliding doors around the mansion today. She silently thanked the stars for the millionth time that she crossed paths, er, fell into the path of such an extraordinary woman. She was going to follow Shinobu’s example and live a life she could be proud of, a life her adoptive father would have been proud of.

“You’re up early.”

(Y/n) nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Shinobu call to her from the engawa, a cup of tea in hand.

“When I told you the doors could wait until the morning, I didn’t mean dawn.” She teased.

“Ah, right, but I’m actually heading to the city. I have some affairs to get in order, but I promise I’ll take care of those doors as soon as I get back.”

“Is that so? Well then, safe travels. Be back before nightfall and stay away from any alcohol while you’re out.”

“I’m telling you that was a one time thing!” (Y/n) said in an exasperated tone.

Shinobu chuckled and (Y/n) smiled despite the jab.

“I’ll be back later in the afternoon, try not to work too hard!” (Y/n) sent Shinobu a wave, then bounded off of the engawa and left the estate grounds.

When she made it to the city, she kept a low profile, staking out a certain home as she had earlier in the week. At this time, the man who had killed her adoptive father with his cowardice and big mouth was busy at his day job while his wife took care of the children at home.

She took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. When the wife answered, (Y/n) asked to come inside and explained all that her shady husband had been up to and why it was important for her to take her kids and leave the city as soon as possible.

(Y/n) expected to have to persuade the woman further, force her out the door if necessary, but it seemed she already had her suspicions about her husband’s strange behavior. Hearing gossip about people seeing him in the Red Light District, and him claiming they had barely enough money to make ends meet despite the large amount of money she had found hidden away in the back of one of his drawers. She had been waiting for answers before doing anything rash, but (Y/n) provided her the last bit of incentive she needed to skip town with her kids and take her unfaithful husband’s money with her. Her parents still lived in a little known mountain village a couple weeks journey from the city, they would go there.

(Y/n) helped the woman and her children pack up their most precious belongings and got them a ride that would take them to the city limits where a carriage would be awaiting them next. When (Y/n) saw their car disappear around the corner, she left the crowded city herself, finally allowing herself to really breathe for the first time all week. There was no turning back, but that was fine. She felt so much lighter.

She couldn’t risk showing her face around town any more than she already had today. It wouldn’t take long before her betrayal was discovered and Akira would send the clan after her. What her punishment would be, she was not sure. However, under Akira’s harsh leadership, she was sure it would not be pleasant.

She stomped down the anxiety fluttering within her. She was on a better path now. No more shady shit, she wanted to put her strength to good use. She was going to ask Shinobu about becoming a demon slayer once she returned to the mansion. When she got back and took care of the doors like she promised she would, she did just that and asked Shinobu about becoming a demon slayer. Shinobu didn’t seem surprised by (Y/n)’s interest, but she did try to dissuade her from taking that path. However, with passion and persistence, she did finally manage to get Shinobu to give in and introduce her to a cultivator.

“But… I thought you were going to teach me.” (Y/n) had sheepishly admitted when Shinobu dropped her off on the first day.

“To start all the way at the beginning with the fundamentals of proper swordsmanship and Water Breathing would be… how can I say this kindly… tedious and not worth my time.” She answered with a mischievous smile.

“That didn’t sound kind at all!”

“I’ll tell you what, you do well, and I’ll give you a supplemental lesson here and there.”

“I’ll hold you to it!”

And in the next few months, (Y/n) learned a lot. When the time for the next Final Selection came around, she would be well prepared. Between what the Water Breathing cultivator taught her and what Shinobu refined with her own expertise, she felt confident in what she could accomplish. Maybe a little too confident.

“Can I come with you this time?” (Y/n) asked hopefully as Shinobu packed a light bag of supplies for her mission.

“I will tell you what I always have. You haven’t passed Final Selection yet. It would be unwise to bring you along.” Shinobu said, snapping her small medical kit shut. “I mean no offense when I say this, but I don’t want to have to worry about you while I have to focus on doing my job.”

“Please?”

Shinobu gave (Y/n) a smile that was paired with a look she knew all too well at this point. The ‘I’ll leave you in charge of all the most annoying chores while I’m gone if you keep this up’ look. (Y/n) pouted.

“I don’t get it! Why can’t we have supervised missions? Don’t you think it’s a little extreme to go from training without seeing a single demon, to a several nights of fighting them alone in the woods? I trust that everyone is doing their best to prepare me, but it would still be helpful to see what I’ll be up against in the future.”

Shinobu considered this as she checked over the experiments scattered around her lab one last time. It was a fair point. People tended to either go in with too much confidence or went in terrified over what to expect. Many fledglings had been killed by getting stuck in their heads and forgetting all they had been taught.

She would hate for (Y/n) to meet the same fate.

“Very well,” she sighed, “you may come, but,” she pointed her finger towards (Y/n) in warning, “you are only to observe from a distance. Do not attempt to engage unless absolutely necessary. If you go against me, I will make sure that you will never be cleared for final selection. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes! I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise!” (Y/n) eagerly held out her pinky and Shinobu sighed again inwardly before hooking their pinkies together.

Hopefully she wouldn’t regret this decision. It was getting harder and harder for her to deny (Y/n) anything. Despite the undesirable first impression and how rough she appeared around the edges, (Y/n) was a true sweetheart. She had a very abrupt introduction to the mansion, but quickly became another familiar friendly face within its walls. It would be devastating to see her life cut short.

“So, where are we going?” (Y/n) grinned excitedly and Shinobu couldn’t help but smile as well.

“A village to the southeast.”

***

Everything had gone smoothly until it hadn’t.

Shinobu had left a small trail of poisoned demons in her wake, (Y/n) safely observing and cheering her on at a distance, until two other demons had snuck up on them both. While Shinobu was busy taking care of one demon, (Y/n) had to defend herself against the other. Shinobu had lent her a Nichirin Sword for just such an occasion, but (Y/n) was having a hard time reading the demon’s erratic movements and had been slashed half a dozen times across her arms, legs and back before she finally managed to behead the thing. It hadn’t been very clean, but she gave a triumphant, albeit breathless shout of victory.

She had then turned to Shinobu, excited to she her reaction to her hard fought kill, but that fire died immediately when she saw how angry Shinobu looked as she strode towards her, the last demon melting into a pile of goo behind her.

Instantly (Y/n) felt the need to be defensive. “You- you said I could defend myself if I absolutely had to! Everything’s fine, right?”

“Everything is not fine!” Shinobu dropped to her knees beside her and opened her medkit, “You are covered in wounds! If you had a uniform, you wouldn’t be hurt half as badly. You might even get an infection on top of all of this. I shouldn’t have let you come.”

“Hey, none of this is your fault. That demon scratched me all up, not you.“

“You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if I had left you at home.” She restated stubbornly. “Now show me your wounds, the sooner I clean and wrap them, the sooner we can get home so I can give you proper aid.”

(Y/n) let Shinobu clean and wrap her calves and arms, but when Shinobu began peeling back her clothes to try to work on her back, (Y/n) froze.

She had been rather vague with Shinobu about her past. How could she tell Shinobu she had been raised in a criminal syndicate that took a turn from admittedly kind of in a grey area, to definitely irreprehensible? That the night Shinobu met her, she was trying to gear herself up to kill an innocent woman and her children? No, she couldn’t. She could only imagine the disgust Shinobu would feel, the betrayal. (Y/n) suddenly felt ill.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Shinobu asked. She tried to peel (Y/n)’s clothes from her back quicker, worried she was having some kind of reaction to the demon’s attack.

(Y/n) tried to pull her clothes back up over her shoulders, but Shinobu was faster, a quiet gasp that felt deafening in (Y/n)’s ears left Shinobu’s lips as the spiraling dragon tattoo was revealed. The blood seeping from the gashes across (Y/n)’s back making it look even more ferocious.

“When did you get this done?” Shinobu lightly poked her shoulder blade, the dragon’s snoot.

“A few years ago.” (Y/n) mumbled, pressing her palms together.

“Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

A weak hum and a shrug of the shoulders.

“You know,” Shinobu traced the coils, making (Y/n) shiver, “I have heard about a group of criminals that bear similar tattoos…”

(Y/n) broke down and told Shinobu everything about her up-brining from when her parents had gone out on a routine fishing trip and didn’t come back, up until the night they met, now months in the past.

“I understand if you don’t want me around anymore. I’ll—ah!”

Apparently Shinobu had been treating her back throughout her tale, as made evident by the sudden tightness of the bandages around her torso.

“That’s just foolish. Do you think I’m afraid of a little ink? Do you think I would ever be afraid of you, (Y/n)? Let’s think logically here.”

Shinobu proceeded to verbally beat some sense into (Y/n)’s brain. Reminding her of all the good she had done in the last few months.

“There is no better place for you than the Butterfly Estate. It’s a much better fit. Isn’t that right?”

Before (Y/n) could collect herself enough to respond, she felt Shinobu pinch her skin lower on her shoulder blade.

“Yes, you are so very wise Shinobu.”

“Why thank you.“

(Y/n) blinked, turmoil somewhat pushed aside for the moment. “Are you… pinching my skin to make it look like my tattoo is talking?”

“I’ve patched you up as best I can here. Get dressed, it’s time to go home.”

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” (Y/n) fumbled with her clothes then stumbled to her feet to catch up with Shinobu.

It was a little awkward on (Y/n)’s part as they walked back to the mansion, but once the fact that Shinobu still liked her caught up to her, the conversation became more natural and by the time they returned to the mansion and Shinobu completed the finishing touches to (Y/n)’s care, (Y/n) felt a familiar weightlessness and with Shinobu’s teasing pokes, the tattoo on her back didn’t feel as heavy and constricting anymore.

***

In the following weeks of recovery, (Y/n) and Shinobu grew quite a bit closer and many residents of the mansion took notice. The touches that were a couple beats too long when they passed the other something, the lingering looks, and most damning was how Shinobu would put off some of her work to join (Y/n) for a meal or a chat and a walk around the garden, knuckles brushing as they went. (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel hopeful that Shinobu might want to change the nature of their relationship as well.

On this lovely summer day, she was prepared to share her feelings, for better or for worse. She had already planned a little outing that Shinobu agreed to join her on. Nothing too grand, just a sweet little picnic in the woods near the mansion. It was pretty much a date already. She had woken extra early that morning with the intent of getting everything in order before they left, but when she walked past her window, something on the sill outside caught her eye. A letter.

She opened the window and took the letter and wasted no time in opening it. The curiosity she had felt chilled into a heavy feeling of dread.

Traitorous coward, the letter read, If you have any ounce of honor within you, you will come to the cemetery and accept your punishment for deserting the family, or we will burn this mansion and everyone in it to ash.

There was no sign off, but (Y/n) didn’t need one to know it was Akira. She let the letter flutter to the ground and jumped out of the window so as not to be caught running down the halls. This was her mess to deal with. She would not allow anyone to be hurt because of her.

Part of her was hopeful she and Akira could talk it out, but she knew that wasn’t going to be very likely. Whatever happened today would be the final wedge between them.

She went to the cemetery and walked to the very last row. Though it was not specified, she had a feeling she’d find him near his father’s grave.

“There you are.” Though she expected it, (Y/n) stiffened at Akira’s icy tone. “Look who left her comfy new castle to finally face the consequences.”

“Aniki—“

“No, you are no sibling of mine. Not by blood nor bond.” Akira sneered, “I trusted you to do the right thing for this family. You’d think after taking you in, you’d have a sense of duty to avenge the man who took you off the streets and put food in your mouth.”

(Y/n) stood a bit taller, holding her head high, “I don’t regret letting them go. They did nothing wrong. I heard all about how you got your man in the end. That was all that needed to be done. It’s over.”

“Not until they’re all dead.” He growled, then sighed. “Here is how this is going to work. You tell me where they ran off to, or you will pay dearly.”

“I won’t tell you anything.” She declared almost talking over him with how quickly she replied.

“Oh, trust me,” he glared, “you will.”

People (Y/n) once considered family and friends had quietly surrounded them as they talked. And now were charging at her with the intent to harm. She managed to hold them off for a time, even incapacitated some after all the training she had done to become a demon slayer thus far, but between being outnumbered and her wounds still relatively fresh, she was beaten to the ground and held there at knifepoint barely able to breathe with the combined weight on top of her back.

“Start with the fingers.” Akira ordered cooly. “If she manages to hold out, we’ll move on to the toes. But before all of this is done we also have to take that tattoo back as well. Try to be as delicate as possible. I want to dry it out and hang it on my wall. My father always said it was one of his favorite works.”

“Stop!” (Y/n) squirmed beneath the weight, struggling to pry her wrist out of one of the many grabby hands. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth tightly, anticipating the first slice, but then she felt some of the weight get yanked away and her eyes shot open, craning her head back, she was surprised to see that the Calvary had arrived.

Inosuke cackled and crowed as he swiftly kicked outward like a hurricane, Kanao weaved behind thugs and struck them in their weak points, toppling them. Tanjirou delivered a few swift headbutts and even Zenitsu, though screaming, came through as well. Last but not least, Shinobu floated gracefully to the ground behind (Y/n), her smile too sharp and her eyes to dark to be considered kind. Her gaze was trained on Akira, challenging him.

“My home is filled with an array of trained fighters at all hours of the day, and our allies are many. You had best cut your loses and move on with your miserable life.”

Akira ground his teeth together and his eyes flickered all around him to see just how overpowered he was despite how small the opposing group was in comparison. He determined his clan was no match and called back his gang to retreat, but not before giving (Y/n) one last hateful glare.

While Inosuke cheered and cackled wildly around them, Shinobu dropped to the ground beside (Y/n) to check her over.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Show me.”

“I’m alright, you guys got here just in time. How did you know where to find me?”

“I believe we had a date planned for today.” Shinobu reminded with just the tiniest hint of attitude. “I went to your room, saw the letter on the floor and rallied the troops. If something like this ever happens again, you better tell me instead of running off by yourself. We are stronger together.”

Now, Shinobu had a lot to say just then, but (Y/n) was still fixated on the first line. A date. She saw the outing to ask if she wanted to date as a date in and of itself!

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Shinobu asked, tilting (Y/n)’s head in her hands, “Are you concussed?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think I am, I just, you just—“

“Yes?” Shinobu coaxed with just a touch of impatience. If there was something wrong, she wanted to know about it as soon as possible.

“You-me-we-us— date?!”

Shinobu laughed, it was a little more unrestrained than her usual chuckles and it made (Y/n)’s heart palpitate.

“Yes, is that not what this outings was supposed to be?”

“Well,” she flustered, “technically no. It was supposed to be like a pre-date to ask if you would like to date… it sounds kinda silly when I say it out loud but—“

Shinobu then sighed and rested her forehead against (Y/n)’s. “I think it’s cute. But we can just start dating now. I think we’ve beaten around the bush for long enough.”

“Y-yeah? Okay.” A smile spread across (Y/n)’s face. “Awesome.”

Shinobu took (Y/n)’s hands in her own and placed a quick kiss on her cheek before helping her to her feet.

“Why are you stumbling around like you’re drunk?” Shinobu asked, finding it difficult to keep (Y/n) upright. “Perhaps I should check your pupils again.”

“No, no, I’m good! Great, even! A goddess just kissed my cheek!” (Y/n) beamed, hooking her arms around Shinobu’s shoulders.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” Shinobu warned, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

On the tail end of the sweetness of the moment, Inosuke butted between them to tell Shinobu how hungry he was despite Tanjirou, Kanao and Zenitsu’s best efforts to keep him back. Shinobu chuckled and nodded in understanding. They all marched back to the mansion and enjoyed a hearty breakfast together with the rest of the Butterfly girls, (Y/n) and Shinobu sitting hip to hip during the whole lively affair.

[ibijau]

wrote a fic for valentine as part of a valentine challenge on the xisang discord! also on AO3

Nie Huaisang stumbled forward, grasping ahead of himself for something to lean on. A figure near him gave him just that as his hands clenched on fine fabrics to avoid falling down. Nearby gasps informed Nie Huaisang that his arrival to this new place was as surprising to others as it was to him. It took a moment for his eyes to adapt to the lack of light, but even before they did he had half an idea of where he was. The strong smell of pine trees had a specific undertone he’d never encountered anywhere but in the Cloud Recesses, although it was currently tainted by the musky odour of old dust, something rare in that refined location. There were only a few dusty places in the Cloud Recesses, most of which Nie Huaisang had frequently visited in his youth and well into adulthood, back when life still held any kindness.

It came as little surprise when Nie Huaisang realised that what he’d been holding on for balance was in fact Lan Xichen himself. He looked unhappy to be used that way, but even after so much had passed between them, he remained too polite to shake off those unwanted hands.

Either that, or he was too distracted by the two other people standing with them in that forgotten storehouse. Once he noticed them, Nie Huaisang let go of Lan Xichen and took a step back in horror.

Nie Huaisang’s thoughts started racing, trying to make sense of the impossible. What had he been doing, just before arriving there? He must have been doing something. It was not impossible that Lan Xichen had already been near him before he stumbled into that unlikely storehouse, although he couldn’t be sure. Trying to recall was about as easy as swimming through melted sugar, but far less efficient. If memory failed, logic could take its place. There were few occasions for Lan Xichen and him to ever cross paths these days, so they must have been at a conference of some sort, or else at a Night Hunt. It then made sense that someone must have tricked them, and the scene in front of them wasn’t real. It had to be an illusion of some sort.

What could it be but an illusion, when across from them stood two dishevelled teenage boys, one a perfect picture of youthful beauty, the other with an awkward face that only a lover could have called charming… and yet Lan Xichen certainly had found it charming back then, giving Nie Huaisang a confidence he now knew had been undeserved.

The two boys, a young Lan Huan and Huaisang, were holding hands tightly, their faces flushed as if they had been interrupted doing something forbidden, which would certainly explain their presence in an abandoned building. Nie Huaisang treasured precious memories of the mischief they'd once gotten up to away from prying eyese. As soon as he’d recovered from his shock, Lan Huan had raised one arm to hide his beloved behind his sleeve, but young Huaisang’s curiosity was too great to accept the offered protection and he was standing on his toes, trying to observe the strangers who had appeared before them.

Staring at them, Nie Huaisang felt tears prickle his eyes. He’d forgotten how young Lan Xichen and him had been when they fell for each other. Back then he’d thought himself so mature, but he now realised they were little more than children, unprepared for the horrors life would throw at them. How old could those boys be? If this illusion had taken them back to the time they truly became involved, then this was the last year Nie Huaisang had come to study in Gusu. He must have been nearly sixteen years old then, still the last of his generation without a golden core, while Lan Xichen would have been about eighteen.

Children, really, and the way their fear quickly morphed into excited curiosity as they stared at the intruders only proved it.

“Are you… us?” Lan Huan asked, trying to sound less eager than he was.

What joy the boy could find in that idea, Nie Huaisang couldn’t fathom. Still he gave a nod in answer, and from the corner of his eyes spotted Lan Xichen doing the same.

The two boys exchanged a look and grinned at each other, as if they’d never heard of anything better. Their open joy was agonising to witness, and Nie Huaisang found himself unable to contain his tears anymore. To see his own face distorted into a wide grin, the way his young self’s hands clung to those of a person who had once been dearer to him than anything in the world… Had he really been capable of so much happiness back then? It had been so many years of misery, Nie Huaisang couldn’t even recall what that felt like.

"Gege, that must mean we're still together when we're old!" young Huaisang exclaimed, gazing adoringly at Lan Huan.

That took Nie Huaisang out of his fit of crying to instead glare at the boys.

"Who's old? I'm only thirty six, you little brat!" 

"That's older than shufu," Lan Huan carefully remarked, his tone and expression making it clear he believed that meant Nie Huaisang was little better than a living ancestor, but was trying to be polie about it. "I'm glad," he added, turning to young Huaisang with a soft smile. "Everyone says two men will never stay long together because they can't marry, but I knew we were different." 

Nie Huaisang couldn't refrain a slight grimace at that comment, and dared a glance at Lan Xichen, still glacially silent. At the same time Lan Xichen also looked his way and their eyes met, which appeared to startle the older man out of his shock. 

"We are no longer close that way," Lan Xichen coldly informed the two teenagers. "Because he decided I wasn't worth trusting after all." 

Young Huaisang gasped and pressed himself closer against Lan Huan's side, clinging to his lover's robes like a frightened child. Lan Huan for his part appeared nearly unaffected by the news. 

"I don't believe you," Lan Huan just told Lan Xichen. "We tell each other everything."

It had been true, Nie Huaisang recalled as he wiped tears with the back of his hand. He used to tell Lan Xichen even things for which Lan rules dictated he ought to have been punished. And Lan Xichen used to be just as open with him, freely sharing his thoughts and worries, until… 

Until the Cloud Recesses burned, forcing Lan Xichen to run for his life. He'd been different after he'd returned. Suddenly, those weeks on the run had become the first thing they couldn't talk about. The first one, but not the last. They also couldn't talk about the war, not while it was ongoing and certainly not after. They couldn't talk about what had happened in Nightless City when Nie Mingjue had been captured by Wen Ruohan and saved by his two sworn brothers. They couldn't talk about why Jin Guangyao often came to play music for Nie Mingjue. So many new rules about what topics were acceptable, and Lan Xichen was always upset if Nie Huaisang tried to break them.

No, it wasn't Nie Huaisang who had first started hiding secrets. 

"Some day he will stop trusting you," Lan Xichen predicted, looking at the boys with a mix of pity and contempt. "You won't know for a very long time, but someday he'll say he loves you and no longer mean it." 

"Even if it were true, that's rich coming from you!" Nie Huaisang exploded, a few new tears spilling on his cheeks. He turned to the boys, looking at his young self right in the eyes. "He's going to fall for someone else," he warned. "But he couldn't have that man, while you were right there, and he'd rather be with someone he had moved on from rather than to be alone."

"I did not love Jin Guangyao!" Lan Xichen retorted, his face flushed in anger, as always upon hearing that accusation. "If you can't even believe me about that…"

Nie Huaisang scoffed.

"Isn't it worse then, if you loved me and still kept choosing him over me?" 

"Every time I knew there was a choice to be made, I chose you!” Lan Xichen lied. A lie to himself as well, but a lie nonetheless. “What more was I supposed to do? I killed him for you, Huaisang. How isn't that enough?" 

Nie Huaisang stared at the man he loved, taken aback by that question. He still wasn't sure what more he might have wanted Lan Xichen to do, just that there ought to have been more, some gesture great enough to make up for a hundred small insults, a thousand moments of feeling less appreciated than his brother’s murderer.

"I don't think you're us after all," young Huaisang sniffled, staring at the two adults with open terror, clinging so tightly to Lan Huan that he nearly disappeared into pale fabric. "I would never want Xichen-gege to kill anyone! You're just monsters, you're not us!" 

Lan Huan nodded, pale and just as worried as the boy he loved, while Lan Xichen startled at being called a monster, as if it were something he had thought as well. 

For his part, Nie Huaisang merely thought that his young self wasn't wrong. They just weren't the same people. Life had changed them. Life, and the choices they'd made. He could barely remember being that boy in front of him, so sure of being loved by his brother and his lover. And young Huaisang was equally incapable of imagining what horrors lay in wait for him, how lonely he would get, how he would turn into a parody of himself until he would forget what was real and what was an act. 

What a blessing it was that these two boys couldn't understand them. They truly were monsters, and they truly shouldn't have been twisted into these mangled mockeries of themselves. 

And yet, seeing the terror on those two young faces, Nie Huaisang felt an impulse he thought he was no longer capable of. 

He felt the need to be kind. 

"It wasn't always awful," he told the boys. "You will be there for each other when loss would have destroyed you. At least, I felt comforted," he corrected, looking at Lan Huan. "I don't know what good I was to you in return, but I tried my best."

Nie Huaisang felt Lan Xichen’s eyes on him, but dared not look his way. Whether his lover’s face showed doubt or disdain, he knew he couldn’t bear to find out that he’d really never been enough. But he’d tried. Nie Huaisang knew he’d tried his best, for as long as he could.

In the end, Lan Xichen had preferred to be comforted by others, by those who understood the tragedies he’d lived through. Nie Mingjue, mostly, but Jin Guangyao too, who had become the person to know all of Lan Xichen’s secrets, who’d had his absolute trust. Nie Huaisang understood. He wouldn’t have trusted himself either.

“A-Sang is always good to me,” Lan Huan whispered, glaring at his feet, wrapping his arms around his young lover.

“Then be good to him as well!” Nie Huaisang snapped, surprised himself at the anger in his voice. Lan Huan looked up and stared at him with round eyes. “When things get tough for you, tell him about it. He can handle more than you think, so don’t keep him out. What’s the point of all this if you don’t even confide in him? And if one day you find you can’t trust him with something, that he just can’t keep up with you, at least have the kindness to end things. He can handle that, too. It’ll hurt him less than being pushed to the edges of your life.”

Lan Huan glared at him with burning eyes, still certain of the strength of their love, but already young Huaisang looked less confident. Nie Huaisang couldn’t remember how he’d felt back then, but considering the reputation Lan Huan already had, considering his own low skill in everything, maybe he’d always feared things couldn’t stay good. Perhaps this warning would serve him too, then, and help him end things at one of those many moments his older self had chosen the torture of a love no longer returned over the certainty of a separation.

“Is that how you’ve felt all this time?” Lan Xichen asked.

His voice was little more than a whisper, and all anger had drained from it, replaced by something almost like confusion. Nie Huaisang still dared not look at him, but he nodded once, his face burning with humiliation.

Of course that was how he’d always felt. Little Lan Huan hadn’t lied before, they used to tell each other everything when they were that age. But the war had happened, and… Nie Huaisang couldn’t deny he had reacted poorly when Lan Xichen had withdrawn his trust. Between the fear that his lover would leave him and the increasingly odd behaviour of his brother, he’d fought back by acting more spoiled than ever, trying to cling to the last remnants of a long lost childhood. That had probably caused Lan Xichen to trust him even less, pushing Nie Huaisang to act out even more.

Sometimes, Nie Huaisang wondered why they had even stayed together. Whatever love had once existed between them, on Lan Xichen’s side it had surely faded away even before Nie Mingjue’s death. As for Nie Huaisang’s own feelings… he just didn’t know.

He’d wanted to no longer love Lan Xichen, and that was nearly the same as actually no longer loving him, wasn’t it?

If Nie Huaisang had stayed involved with Lan Xichen after understanding the truth of his brother’s death, it had only been because a falling out between them might have alerted Jin Guangyao that something wasn’t right. Not only that, but Lan Xichen would have been free to pursue the person he truly loved, and that would have been intolerable. Jin Guangyao had never given any signs he was attracted to men, but Nie Huaisang had refused to take that risk, on the off chance that Jin Guangyao had been hiding that side of himself just as he’d hidden so many other things.

However he’d felt about Lan Xichen at that time, Nie Huaisang just couldn’t have let him fall into a murderer’s bed.

Next to him, Lan Xichen remained silent for a long while. He eventually took a deep breath, and Nie Huaisang braced himself to be scolded for the way he’d behaved all those years. But instead, Lan Xichen turned toward the two boys before them.

“There is a war coming,” Lan Xichen announced, startling their young selves. “The Wens will attack soon after a conference they hold in the Nightless City, pretending that other sects are acting disrespectful. The Cloud Recesses will be burned, much of the library will be destroyed. My father dies trying to protect his sect. Wangji is captured and held hostage, as are the children of every sect. I only escaped that fate because I was sent running to protect the most precious among the books in our library. Many great tragedies will befall all of us, destruction the like of which no cultivators had ever seen before, until Wen Ruohan is killed and his ambitions ended. And yet, that dreadful war and the ruin it caused are almost nothing compared to what comes after. During the war I met… you will meet a boy, and he will help you. His name…”

“Er-ge, is it truly wise to say this?” Nie Huaisang interrupted, grasping the other man’s sleeve. Lan Xichen looked at him and Nie Huaisang let go immediately. “Isn’t it dangerous to change the past?”

Lan Xichen glanced at the boys, then looked again at Nie Huaisang, his expression severe.

“I can’t say if any of this is real in the first place,” he decided. “But I have a chance to correct my mistakes, and I cannot let it pass.” He turned back toward his younger self. “You may meet a boy called Meng Yao, an illegitimate child of Jin Guangshan. He is talented and not unkind, although with improper guidance his kindness will be lost to his ambition. If you meet him, do everything in your power to keep him away from his father. If he cannot be kept from Lanling, do not let his sweet words blind you to his actions.”

“What… what actions?” Lan Huan asked.

He looked confused, poor child, and Lan Xichen hesitated. Even then, he could not condemn Jin Guangyao, not even after calling him a worse catastrophe than the Sunshot Campaign. Nie Huaisang resented him for it, but less than he would have only a shichen earlier. That Lan Xichen would speak up at all was already more than he could have ever hoped for.

“His actions,” Lan Xichen whispered. “He… there is…”

He looked at Nie Huaisang, who glanced away. If it had been up to him, he would have revealed the whole plot, but Lan Xichen was the one who’d been brave enough to give that warning, so it was up to him to decide how much to reveal. Perhaps there had been something good in Jin Guangyao, once. Something worth saving. If Lan Xichen thought as much, Nie Huaisang could have the kindness to let him be deluded. 

“His actions were… he truly is a kind person when you will meet him,” Lan Xichen insisted, making Nie Huaisang wince. “But it does not last. He was forced to do terrible things, pushed in a corner because others thought him tainted by his birth. Given the chance, he will kill some, torture others, betray many. He betrayed me. He betrayed Mingjue.”

“What will he do to Da-ge?” young Huaisang whispered, clinging desperately to Lan Huan.

There were tears in his eyes, and the boy looked terrified, but there was also something determined to his expression. Nie Huaisang himself was taken aback by the sight. He had spent the better part of the last two decades telling himself he could have handled any dark truth others kept from him, yet he never really believed it. So many people had called him weak, and he was, but that tearful boy before him already showed signs of the strength Nie Huaisang discovered only after he lost everything.

Lan Xichen too noticed, and his expression hardened.

“Meng Yao… to please his father, to protect his ambitions, and perhaps out of personal anger as well, Meng Yao killed Mingjue.”

The two boys cried out in horror. Nie Huaisang as well couldn’t suppress a gasp.

It was the first time Lan Xichen ever said what Jin Guangyao had done.

He had acknowledged it before, of course, but never put things into words, never like that. He’d speak of ‘Jing Guangyao’s crime’, or ‘what happened’. Pushed to it, he said once that Jin Guangshan had ordered the murder of Nie Mingjue, but refused to say how, no matter how hard Nie Huaisang nagged for it.

Sensing the importance of his own words, Lan Xichen turned to look at Nie Huaisang, his face tight.

“He killed your brother,” Lan Xichen repeated, “and I helped him. I am so sorry.”

Their two younger selves let out a wounded cry, but Nie Huaisang ignored them, the loud beatings of his heart drowning every other sound. Perhaps this was what he’d wanted from Lan Xichen all along. An admission of guilt. An apology.

Having obtained them at last, Nie Huaisang found them unwarranted.

“He tricked you,” Nie Huaisang replied. “You would never have hurt Da-ge on purpose. San-ge knew that. Da-ge knew it. And I… I know that too. If you’d understood what was going on, you would have stopped it. You would have stood up against San-ge. You did, once you figured it out.”

“He could not have killed Da-ge without me,” Lan Xichen insisted, his voice breaking. “I forced them to be friends, I forced Da-ge to reconcile, I gave Jin-zongzhu a weapon…”

A sob wrecked Lan Xichen, and Nie Huaisang, who had not seen his lover cry since the day they buried Nie Mingjue, was compelled to take the other man’s hand. Lan Xichen allowed it, too focused on fighting tears.

“You gave him a chance, Er-ge,” Nie Huaisang replied, startled to find that he now pitied Lan Xichen, when it had always been the other way around before. “You treated him with all the kindness and decency others denied him, and he used it against you.”

“I was a fool.”

“You were a good man. You’ve always been a good man, surrounded by men who weren’t. Gege, don’t blame yourself for that. Even I liked him. Even after I knew what he’d done… I wanted to excuse him at first.”

The words were pulled out of his mouth like a rotten tooth. Even to himself Nie Huaisang normally never admitted this uncomfortable truth. He too had liked Jin Guangyao. He too had pushed for Nie Mingjue to be forgiving. He too had struggled with the fact that the kind man who always treated him gently and knew how to solve all his problems had been capable of great horrors.

Nie Huaisang's eyes hovered toward the two scared boys across from them, young and filled with hope. He missed that innocence, just as much as he resented their naivety. 

“Er-ge, if you must know the truth… It is because I couldn't bring myself to believe he'd done these things that it took so long for Da-ge to be avenged,” Nie Huaisang said, another rotten tooth out of the way. “Deciding that I believed the proof I'd accumulated took me longer than taking him down.”

He felt the two boys’ judgement against him for confessing this. Young Huaisang in particular grimaced in disgust. He couldn't understand, of course. It was a blessing that these boys couldn't imagine such a conflicted mess of hatred and affection. But Lan Xichen, his Lan Xichen, with his bruised and damaged heart, had gone through that too. 

Cold fingers wrapped around Nie Huaisang's hand, finally holding it back. 

Only a shichen earlier, reconciliation had seemed an impossible idea, between Lan Xichen's suspected love for Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang's own resentment. Now, though… 

Now Nie Huaisang was ready to believe his lover when he said his affection was never stolen by another. It didn't fix everything, but it was a step toward something different. 

“He really was dangerous,” Lan Xichen whispered. His hand tightened on Nie Huaisang before he directed his attention back to the children. “I actually… Regarding what I said before, I've changed my mind. Although Meng Yao is clever, although he is capable of great kindness, you should keep your distance from him. Both of you. Let others take on the task of saving him from his own ambitions, if they care. But you two… Although I advise against making an enemy of him, and I think being polite to him remains a necessity, do not let him become your friend. Do not repeat our mistakes.”

“I'm still not sure I believe you're really us,” Lan Huan retorted, his voice trembling. “I… I don't want you to be us.”

“I can prove it,” Lan Xichen retorted with a grim smile. “But do you want me to say what truly happened to those spring books shufu confiscated from Huaisang and which then disappeared from his office?” 

“What?” both Huaisangs exclaimed as one. 

Poor little Lan Huan blushed deeply and glared at his older self. The boy looked like he might cry or shout, but Lan Xichen smiled calmly, having dealt with his share of upset teenagers in the past. Not only that, but he'd dealt with his share of upset Huaisang as well, and not even the worst eighteen year old in the world could quite compare. 

“You're awful,” Lan Huan complained, draping himself in wounded dignity. “Why are you even here anyway?” 

An excellent question, one Nie Huaisang had forgotten to ask until then, but for which he thought he knew the answer. 

“To get a second chance,” Lan Xichen and him said at the same time. 

They were both startled to hear they'd come to that conclusion, and exchanged a stunned look. Lan Xichen was the first one to laugh, but Nie Huaisang wasn’t far behind.

“What’s even funny about that?” Lan Huan asked, baffled.

“Nothing at all,” his older self agreed, making Nie Huaisang laugh so hard he had to lean against the man he once loved so he wouldn’t fall to his knees.

Not that Lan Xichen was much more stable, but he still stood strong and wrapped one arm around Nie Huaisang’s waist to keep him up. Nie Huaisang made the mistake of looking too long at the two boys across from them, now staring at those strange elders with confused horror, and his hilarity grew so great he could barely breathe. The arm around his waist offered more strength, but Lan Xichen also had to lean on him more. Before long, they were both supporting each other in a perilous balance that nearly crumbled with every breathless gasp.

It took them a long time to calm down, but even then they still leaned against each other, closer than they had been in years. Perhaps the last time they had been like that was back when they were the same age as those two boys. It was hard to be sure of their exact ages, but the war couldn’t be so far for them. Earlier, that thought had brought Nie Huaisang renewed despair, certain that what those two would lose could never be retrieved. Now, though, with the tender support of Lan Xichen’s arm around his waist while his own shoulder held the weight of his lover… Even if they couldn’t prevent their lives from being shattered, perhaps with enough time and care they could gather the shards and repair what they once had.

It would take effort, but as Nie Huaisang's eyes wandered from Lan Xichen’s face, still flushed from that hysterical fit, to the two boys huddled together, he figured it might just be worth the effort.

“What’s happening now?” young Huaisang shrieked, pointing at their older selves. “You’re all shiny!”

Alarmed, Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen exchanged a look. There was nothing wrong with each other, but the small room around them was enveloped in blinding light. The brightness grew more intense until all four people present had to close their eyes.

When Lan Huan opened his eyes again, he found only complete darkness around him and wondered for a moment if those terrible spectres had rendered him blind. But as his vision recovered from the intense light, he was comforted to discover he could still see just fine.

What he saw was the same old room he knew so well, now a little less cramped because Huaisang and him were once more the only ones there. No traces remained of others, except for the way Lan Huan’s heart still beat too hard in his chest, and the desperate manner in which Huaisang clung to him. As the darkness still receded, Lan Huan also noticed that dust had been displaced on the ground across from them, as if two people had truly stood there.

“Should we tell someone about this?” Huaisang whispered.

The reluctance in his voice matched Lan Huan’s own feelings. They weren’t supposed to be alone like that, so revealing that horrible visit from the future would get them in trouble. Lan Qiren would have questions, and he wouldn’t like the answers to them, and Lan Huan might be scolded because his uncle would refuse to see he wasn’t just fooling around but was truly in love, and he’d denounce them to Mingjue, and… 

“I think we should tell Da-ge,” Huaisang mumbled. “Not… not about us maybe but… they said there’s going to be a war… do you think that’s really possible?”

Lan Huan’s arms tightened around the other boy. He couldn’t say he trusted the rest of those two horrible men’s stories, but the Wens’ ambitions were all too well known. A conflict of some sort made sense. A war, a true war… Lan Huan couldn’t deny that he wouldn’t be surprised if things came to that.

“You’re right, let’s tell Da-ge,” Lan Huan sighed, dreading the ordeal. “Shufu as well, he should know. If you prefer, if you’d rather not… I can tell them alone, you don’t have to be involved.”

There was hesitation from the other boy, whose hands clenched harder on his robes.

“No, let’s do it together,” Huaisang decided. “It wouldn’t be fair to let you do it alone. I don’t want to be like…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. Lan Huan as well couldn’t stop thinking of those two men, bitter and rageful. Lan Huan couldn’t believe that could ever be Huaisang and him, but he also didn’t want to take any chances.

“Alright, together then,” he said, pressing a kiss to Huaisang cheek.

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love Party

Never too fucked to Drink, Never too drunk to Fuck!!

Moxxie should've had a feeling that it was too good to be true and given the situation he now found himself in, that was certainly the case. It'd all seemed to be going well to boot, but really he should've seen red flags from the moment after the duo of himself and his erstwhile employer completed a recent job, with Blitz having decided to celebrate by going to a bar and he'd be buying!! Lo and behold, being the crass, crude imp he was,he chose a local watering hole by the name Juggernauts and Knockers (The name implying clearly its main attrction was their ultra buxom, easy on the eyes waitresses and barmaids) in which the pairstarted to drink like there was no tomorrow But as the night goes by, at some point Blitzø decided to drink and dash leaving him of course to pay the big bill (a really large sum at that, figures being the hedonist he was, the former circus kid had no restraint on his liquor consumptions), the rat bastard!! Was it any wonder the guy left enough exes in his wake to fill up a whole party list?!!

So here Moxxie was, stuck on Earth and clearly not having enough money to pay off such a tab completely and oh yeah really starting to feel particular tipsy and woozy, what was an imp to do? Yet in his spiraling drunken haze, he got a bright idea, so it seemed, to try and strike a deal with their waitress and server for the evening, a tanned, toned and oh so stacked blonde by the name Titania (Either her parents had bad taste or fate had a weird sense of humour) that if he can please her sexually? Then she would forget about the bill and he could be off on his merry way to his lovely wife, his wonderful sexy lady friends and his boss who he swore he was going to kick in his goddamned crotch when he saw him!! Yeah as you can tell, he was nearing the amount of drunk levels he was that infamous Spring Break....

Now Titania was' too much of a dumb blonde airhead, okay maybe somewhat of a bimbo and okay maybe she was sexually active enough to warrant being called a slut but she wasn't too stupid. Any guy that would try to flirt with her while clearly blotto had to have quite a spine and a decent sized pair. An admittedly, he was kind of cute and just so funny with his drunk talk. She wasn’t sure who this Millie was but she sounded like a very lucky girl..

Which might be why she accepted the imp’s radical little offer of sex in exchange for waiving off the very sizeable tab and opted to take him back to her apartment soon as her shift was over. She didn’t even like to drunk toss or take a rando customer back for some fun but this was a particular exception to say the least. Though soon as she got him inside and shut the door, she found he was quite the kisser which had her wondering how good he could be when sober. But wow was she feeling a little drunk herself right now on a sudden rush of passion and arousal as that tongue of his worked some quite powerful sensual magic on her…..

Before she knew it, she was naked on the couch with the tipsy possum’s head diving between her legs as he ate out her dribbling snatch. The blonde bar tender babe moaning as her mind was being blown by the talented little mouth snd tongue of Moxxie, grasping her horns while he caressed and massaged her hips and thighs. Most guys always tended to go right for her tits but this drink sweetheart was a different type of beast. He mayve been too fucked to drink but not damn he sure as hell wasn’t too drunk to fuck!!

But imagine her shock and awe when she decided to try return the favour, wide eyed and gobsmacked at the sight of the demonic length and girth the little imp somehow managed to pack in his pants. The scent and heat radiating off of that twitching, pulsing slab of a cock before Moxxie, in his tipsy state of being, got impatient as he grabbed her long blonde mane and suddenly thrust pumped it into her mouth. The sudden facefuck ambush catching her off guard as her pussy erupted like a geyser, orgasmic nectar squirting in response to the deep, intense onslaught which only skyrocketed soonas Moxxie had her flat on her back. The drunk imp stud straddling her midriff as he held her juicy titties between his shaft, the tip penetrating her luscious lips while her face and jugs became sprayed with his hot seed….

Titania was used to having men be putty in her hands, simps willing to just lie there and have her do all the work as soon as she flashed them a wink, a smile and her twins. And yet this sweet freckle little possum was so assertive, so dominant, somehow making love to her yet using her as a sex toy all the at the same time as she was soon screaming and moaning her head off. Bouncing and riding on his big red imp cock as he squeezed her ass in his grasp, sitting on her damn couch like a king on his throne, legs around his waist as she hugged and eld his head between her tits. Tongue dancing with his in a sloppy kiss as pink hearts glowing in her eyes as this sex machine from hell laid claim to her in mind, he’s art, body and soul.

It only became a more intense bond of such lust forming between them as Moxxie showed no signs of stopping his relentless fucking, his state of drunkenness dampening his sense of inhibition and restraint. Much to Titania’s delight as she became drunk on the absolute high of orgasms the imp brought out of her as he mucked her all over her apartment. From being bent over the kitchen counter as he took her from behind like the bitch in heat she was being claimed as to her bed threatening to break as Moxxie plowed her in a mating press. The blonde screaming and moaning as she hollered loud enough for all of Springfield to hear, making her the envy of many women though a certain single mom felt a sense of deja vu tingling in her own loins…

The next morning, Moxxie came to wake up more hungover than alive, the poor little guy clutching his sweet little head as he squinted his eyes at the rays of sunlight. His aches soothed by a sweaty, sticky naked Titania who purred and giggled as she gave the little love machine a morning kiss. Scooping the confused little possum into her arms as she carried him into the bathroom and decided they should shower together which would naturally lead to a second round of spicy, erotic passion. She felt it only right as this was the one spot in her apartment they hadn’t gotten around to doing it in last night, besides which the little dude had pretty much earned it.

One quickie,a waffle and pancake breakfast later and some contact details exchanged including a spicy sealed with a kiss photo, she sent him off and out in his way. The imp checking is phone to find a texts and messages from Millie and a few others no doubt concerned to where he was and asking if he needed a portal home. It was a nice reminder knowing he was so well loved so imagine his fun to come back to the IMP office to find Mr.Sketch strangling Blitzo. Seems his second boss was nine too pleased with his first boss for pulling s dine and dash and was no doubt trying to choke him in a way he wouldn’t get off on it..lt was a challenge to say the least..

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

Gimme some Sugar,baby....

It wasn’t often Moxxie food moments to himself like this but here he was alone in his apartment with nobody but himself for company, a rare bit of peace and quiet. He had the day off from IMP and even Mr.Sketch hadn’t had any work or need for him down at the studio for today at least. But he didn’t even had any of his regular lady friends in his social life present either, all of them preoccupied with different matters. Millie was visiting her family up in Wrath, Verosika and her crew had work on a new album to oversee, Glitz and Glam had clown business, even Loona was busy.

So he had peace and quiet but noone to enjoy it with, sure it could be overwhelming but there was always something nice about being all cosy and warm with a woman after sexually rocking her world. Their faces in ecstasy as they welcomed his sensual embrace, criminy he'd be up for whatever Mr.Sketch might’ve needed of him if he had anything at all. But here he was going bored out of his mind even hoping that damn ritual would come calling him up to whatever curious or lonely horny babe needed him for company. Never let it be said that Fate didn’t throw a bone for our favourite little possum as he heard a knock in the door.

Getting up from his seat, he went on over and answered it to find himself greeted by an exotic zebra mare. This was Jessica, one of the lovely residents and fellow tenants of the modest apartment building Moxxi and his lovely wife called home. And to say she was easy in the eyes would be an understatement to say the very least, sensually smiling his way as she casually leaned against the doorframe. Her body language really giving off some distinct vibes as she eyed our favourite little possum like he was a sweet treat.

Jessica:”Hey handsome, hope I’m not being a bother but was wondering if you could be a good neighbour and let a gal borrow some sugar?”*Of course that was an absolute lie, the stripe mare had plenty back in her apartment. But she felt like today was the prefect chance to finally make a move in that adorable little imp a few doors down. Relishing just how cute he looked as she idly waved her coffee mug in hand, the item baring the phrase “Down to Fuck” shamelessly in big bold letters. Truth be told, she had a very different sweetener in mind over sugar and it was a cute little imp who was sweet enough already….*

That was how Moxxie found himself with his back up against the wall, straddling the grey colored mare's shoulders as he grasped her electric blue mane. Groaning as she was giving him an intense blowjob, sucking and blowing on his cock as her tongue licked it all over its length and girth. Deepthroating him with abandon as her pussy quivered and drooled in anticipation of wanting this hot fuckhammer pounding it as soon as possible. Well Moxxie could say he was in good company like he'd been wishing for but ho damn was Jessica a thirsty one!!

But of course once she had her fill of his cream in her stomach, she had another mouth eager to be fed that sweet, manly sugar of his as she now straddled his lap while he sat on the couch. Her striped, furry booty riding and bouncing on his cock as the muscles of those inner walls kissed, stroked and massaged every inch of that length and girth penetrating them. The Hellzebra and imp naked and sweating as they made sweet rut with a little neighborly passion, hands clasped as Jessica gladly found any and every past lover being put to shame by the freckled sweetheart. Now this was a cock to be a good measuring bar for sexual standards, no wonder he was such a talented little pornstar!!

Moxxie and Millie’s apartment was no stranger to having sounds of passion occur within its walls, it was more a case of what new woman would be the newest addition to the string of conquests. And ooh Jessica was an absolute screamer to say the very least as she urged the imp to fuck her like she was one of his porn stars!! The slick wet sounds of her pussy being pounded and hammered with relentless passion as she was currently being taken doggy style, her mane in his grasp as his free hand squeezed one of her tits. Her striped, furry ass jiggling and clapping with every impact of their loins smacking together as their pleasure only skyrocketed….

Any ennui (Fancy French word for boredom for you moody hipster types) Moxxie had before was pretty much nonexistent thanks to the HellZebra Mare. The apartment echoing with the primal rhythm of the age old dance of man and woman as she gladly, willingly took his cock like a pro. From her pussy to her ass to her mouth and full circle, over and over from prone bonje to cowgirl, over the kitchen counter or up against the wall, not even a shower was enough to dampen their lust and passion as they made sweet hot fuck under the steamy water. When Jessica came looking for sugar, ooh did she ever get it...

When they were finally done, it was late in the afternoon as the Zebra hottie was dressing herself back up, tucking a naked, spent Moxxie nice and snug in bed. Planting a sweet, soft kiss on his lips as thanks for the "sugar" as she made her departure from the apartment, a distinct sway and sashay to her lovely hips. Humming a sensual tune as she felt so well fucked and filled, she walked by Millie who had come back to town from visiting her family, shooting her a wink and a smile as she resumed her trek back to her own place. The wrath shortstack surprised and puzzled until she noticed a small puddle where Jessica had briefly stood.

A quick sniff as she scooped it up into her fingertips, she shuddered with orgasmic bliss at recognizing the scent, texture and with a flick of her tongue, the taste of her husband's flavor. Ah nothing like her Moxxie's hot cream leaking down some hottie's thighs and mixed with their particular nectar and this mare was especially sweet. Always warmed her heart and stirred her libido knowing her man's needs were tended to by the kindness and horniness of a slutty stranger. She'd have to remember to ask him for details and names later soon as he was woke up.......

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

Personal Ass-istant

Moxxie:*Just simply stared deadpan at the sight before him, looking back and forth between his employer Mr.Sketch and the other person standing in the room. He’d figured at this point that he would be used to the quirks and eccentricities of his boss, sure he was less of a pain in the ass than Blitz. And for a maker of adult entertainment in Hell, he was quite the creative visionary certainly. But as he stood in the Enigma’s office, he knew this was going to be one of those days.*”I’m sorry, what?!”

Mr.Sketch:”Like I said, I figure you deserve a personal assistant of your own, someone to handle some of your day to day affairs here at the studio. So this here is Ingrid, hope you two will get along. No worries, she comes very highly recommended and I’m told she’s quite efficient in her work…”*The flaming skill headed smut peddler droned on as he introduced and sung the praises of the woman in the office. She was quite the looker and actually looked out place because well, she seemed so human, albeit very exotic with that pink hair and dark skinned complexion. And her business wear seemed intent on highlighting that stunning as all fuck body of hers, seemingly non-chalant to the amount skin and cleavage on display her golden eyes locked their gaze in the impboi. Which only made Moxxie nervous but with good reason mind you.”

Of course it’d likely be because he knew damn well who Ingrid was and it damn sure as hell wasn’t some sort of business woman, oh no this happened to be the infamous Hell Knight herself. At one time the loyal and devoted right hand woman and enforcer of the notorious Overlord Edwin Black but it seemed she'd had a falling out with her now former employer. Who according to rumours had fallen on hard times but that was neither here nor there because Moxxie was wondering just why in all the Sin Circles was she here, at a PORN studio?! Besides the fact she was being given a job as his personal assistant of course but really did a porn star even need such a thing?!

But he knew trying to debate Mr.Sketch about it would be akin to trying to ice-skate up hil and so he just decided to roll with it and accept it. Much to the Enigma's delight of course as he sent the two on their way, insisting they get acquainted which was how and why they now found themselves in Moxxie's dressing room. The imp finding the silence comfy at least as Ingrind simply sat stoic yet sexy looking, adjusting her spectacles before taking the initiative to speak as she felt it was a prudent time for her and her new employer to get to know one another better.

Which was likely how Moxxie should've expected that this would naturally lead to her servicing him orally as he sat in the chair of his personal dressing room. The pink haired ex demon knight's golden eyes burning with flames of lust as she licked and sucked on his shaft like it was the finest treat she'd ever found herself enjoying. Drowning it in a healthy coating of her saliva as she bobbed head up and down like a lewd piston, blowing on the infernally generous cock of her new employer. Sensually humming and moaning as her body surged with arousal through her veins, hoping she was making a very good first impression as his new personal assistant.

Of course Moxxie's cries of pleasure were plenty good indication she was doing a good job of it but personally, she felt she could be, no should be doing much better to provide him comfort and relief. After all with his sure to be hectic work schedule and routine, he was sure to be pent up with stress and she was to see to it that would not be the case!! Which was why she whipped her glorious milk chocolate tits free from the confines of her coat and performed a titfuck on his shaft, smothering his length and girth as her lips and tongue worked their oral magic on the pumping, thrusting tip. The former hell knight feeling her pussy quiver and ache, nectar flowing down her thighs as her desire to sexually relieve her new employer grew and burnt deeper.

But of course after being so riled up and aroused by this exotic former warrior woman, he couldn't help but pounce and take this little comfort session to its next natural step. Ingrid now naked save for her heels and stockings as her new lord and master (In her mind, screw Edwin Black!!) asserted his dominance and properly taught her her place in the pecking order. Bent over the make-up counter and pressed up against the cool surface of the mirror, deep throated moans and gasps of pleasure escaping her luscious lips as Moxxie pounded and hammered her from behind. Her lovely tits rubbing against the reflective surface while her booty cheeks clapped and jiggled to every pounding of that pelvis and those swaying balls hitting her clit, a growing puddle of her juices as they rained down on the floor beneath them.

She was loving every moment of this as her body memorized every detail and became erotically acquainted with the sexually gifted imp who exceeded her expectations. Her legs giving out as she fell into downward dog to doggy style and soon prone bone to being plowed like a sexual butter churn rolling into a mating press and then a piledriver. Her fishnet legs wrapped around his waist as she didn't want to break their connection, feeling it only right Moxxie lay his claim to her by flooding her womb with his hot, white seed. She'd watched some his work prior to their meeting to better research and understand who and what she'd be dealing with but sweet inferno were her expectations exceeded!!

One relief session later, which had included quite a few creampies, even a few shot into her ass and some stomach filling facefucks, the imp and his new personal assistant were dressed clean and sharp. You'd hardly be able to tell they'd just gone and fucked unless you had the sharp senses of a Hellhound or a sex demon like a succubus asthey met up with Mr.Sketch. Moxxie's expression deadpan as he simply shook the Enigma's hand, making it clear he would accept the offer of Ingrid as his new personal assistant. Much to the flaming skullheaded eccentric's satisfaction, you could just tell he felt this went just as planned.....

Suffice to say Ingrid proved herself to be quite capable and reliable as a personal Ass-istant, ensuring plenty of erotic relief and comfort for Moxxie. Which saw quite the improvement in his performance for scene shoots and believe you me, he was no slouch already before hand but now he'd gone from a 10 to 11 and reaching a hundred. Which was seeing quite a bonus in his and the former Hellknight's paychecks but for Ingrid, the imp's satisfaction was a much more enjoyable payment and the monetary gain was a mere bonus in and off itself. To say nothing of the glorious day she'd find herself baring and carrying a child for him....

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

More like Le-Bomba!!

It was one of your routine IMP missions of course, go to the living world and off whoever their client wanted dead, this target in particular inhabited a hectic little ghetto neighbourhood around Canada. The client or clients rather, had pooled every Mammon buck they could find or had on them to pay the basic fee plus a little extra for the misfit Assassin team to make sure the guy really got it coming. Seems he was a pain in the ass for everyone alike be they man or woman, black or white, your atypical Ninja just going out and about being an irrational, trivial troublemaker especially within the community. Though it was peculiar to have to deal with the target in the Great White North of all places but hey money talks, right?

Now of course finding the target had been easy enough, killing him was a whole other matter entirely. Because of course his type always ran around with hoards of other like minded Ninjas who bonded in a synthesis over their shared love of irrational, trivial bullshit. And they were armed to the teeth of course which saw our merry band of misfits making their run being pursued by angry ignorant ninjas trying to riddle them with bullets. Leave it to Blitzo to have one of his rare food ideas for them to split up and try turn things around before getting out of dodge and back to Hell sweet Hell.

This was how Moxxie came to find himself dealing with his own band of ninjas, gunning them in down in self defence when somehow in the fray he found himself flying through the air and crashing through somebody’s window. Landing right in a hot bubble bath and causing whoever was using it to scream, the sweet possum poking his head through the warm water to get an eyeful of a naked, soaking wet hot black woman who was understandably shocked and confused. Only to get a kissed look on her face at finding that someone had thrown a wild possum into her place, a horned one at that as Moxxie eroded when she grabbed him by a horn. Picking him up to glare at him which made him wonder if he was better off with the Ninjas…..

As it so happened, the homestead our sweet possum had wound up in belonged to Leshawna, 3 season veteran of the infamous Total Drama reality series, the girl with the ‘Tude as they called her. And she was having a nice night until either someone had a funny idea throwing a possum into her home or some perv in a possum costume was trying to get fresh with her. Thinking he could come in here and get a look at her goods without consequences? Even if he was kind of cute looking with those freckles and that adorable little bow tie….and it had been way too long since she got any…

Which might be why she had stripped Moxxie naked and had him sitting in the edge of the bathtub, her lips around his shaft which she was amazed to find was quite the big one. Sucking and blowing on that length and girth as the scent and taste drove her wild, her suds soaked, glistening milk chocolate form moving in enticing ways. Drawing the imp’s attention to her bodacious booty as those cheeks clapped and jiggled hypnotically, calling to the imp with a siren song that one thing clear . She was down to fuck and she wanted it good, deep and hard.

To which our sweet little possum gladly obliged of course as he had the girl with the 'tude bent over the tub and up against the wall. Mounted atop her backside with his arms wrapped around her waist as he humped and pumped his quite powerful little pelvis against that glorious set of chocolate orange booty cheeks. Making those cocoa colored drums clap like thunder as his cock jackhammered into her snatch with rabid abandon and primal desire, causing Leshawna to moan deeply as she experienced the best damn lay of her lifetime. She wasn't sure what was up with this cute little mutant or where he came from exactly but damn could he fuck!!

It was ironic she had been bathing to clean herself up as she was now just getting dirtier with the freckled little love machine, wet crimson skin rutting against glistening milk chocolate as the shower head had been turned on. Hot steamy water raining down on them as Moxxie had her pinned up against the wall, lips pressed against hers as their tongues danced a little game of spitswap and tonsil hockey. Moans escaping her pouty lips as the thicc brickhouse ghetto girl was amazed to find how strong he was for a little guy but given how well he could fuck, was it any surprise? Especially whenever he'd let loose and pump some of that hot load her way......

The babe with the 'tude and the sweet little thespian were soon out of the bathroom and in the bedroom as the springs in the mattress squeaked and creaked against the heavy primal rhythm of their fucking. The pair rolling around between cowgirl to missionary to mating and amazon press to Leshawna taking it from behind until she was flat on her front as her arms and legs couldn't keep their strength. From being filled in her womb and booty to gulping down mouthfuls as she took whatever the imp sent her way until she just couldn't keep up with that stamina anymore. Passing out after one last shared climax together, a blissful smile on her face as her thighs flowed with excess baby batter.....

Moxxie was panting as he looked over the sexually satisfied black queen, his attention caught by the distinct sound of his wife's melodic giggle. Looking over to the window in the bathroom he'd crashed through as he spotted the aforementioned kinky pixie who had no doubt seen quite a bit of that and judging by the flicker of arousal in her eyes had certainly enjoyed it. No doubt she'd want details but first thing's first, it was time for them to hustle and make their way back to Hell, they'd managed to ditch and waste their pursuers. It had been bloody to say the least especially with Millie doing a lot of the massacring.

It had just been a matter of finding Blitzo since had the means to get them back home, for the time being and suffice to say their boss looked like he'd been through the ringer. They weren't sure how or why but for some reason he had a rainbow afro wig glued onto his head..which was oddly fitting given his old circus clown background and all. But was best they didn't ask, somethings you're just better off not knowing you know? Much like how it was best he didn't know what Moxxie had been up to, the imp's sex life was none of his business!!