#Welcome to a town called Mercy

[rose-tyier]

. ʀɨɖɛ 'ɛʍ ƈօաɮօʏ

【☆】~BBCOne

[andersonfilms]

i think some skin to skin with cowgirl abby could and would fix me :P

❝ IM IN LOVE WITH YOU ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON!

an. nonnie, thank you for the request. it's more angst than i planned so i hope that's okay! i also wanna credit the cuntress queen @astralnymphh for this concept. so, so good. y'all need to check it out asap.

Since she could feel it, from very early on, she’s liked women and never enjoyed the company of men other than to have an occasional beer with. Most of the girls around her worried about settling down, finding a perfect man, one who is respectable, stable, loving. Pleasing the wishes of their parents who are ever so demanding with a downpour of insured judgements. 

It’s all left to be found here, the bellows from a man and a woman living unhappily together, telling others how to live their life. Yet, Abby from a young age yearns for someone else, the piece she believes is missin’. 

The sought after, happily ever after. 

Not a soul she had met for her bill so she keeps her head down. Late night escapades are tight lipped, hidden from spectator’s eyes, ones they would throw slurs her way without a second thought if they knew. Just like they had when she hadn’t kept it a secret.

 Sometimes, it burns. Other times when she was buried in between a woman’s thighs as they cried for mercy in her ear, it didn’t. 

Underneath the midnight sky, her fingertips dance on the white wood — the one she shouldn’t be stepping her boots back on. 

Despite how she tells herself, this will be the last time, it never really is. It’s a quiet night in the small town tucked away in a small town in South Texas, the stars shine bright in the countryside, moonlight shining brighter than it has all month long. 

Abby steps up to your front porch, the pearly white picket fence, the home your dad built with his two bare hands and a dream. When she’s met with your shining smile, the doubt is evident, barely visible but it’s there. 

Is this what you want? Or were you just too kind of a woman to say no? 

Nothing is said between the two of you as you pull her into your home, a senseless wonder swirls in your eyes, getting lost in impenetrable blues. Maybe, it’s what pulls you in and keeps you there like the failed dreams in a dying town. Perhaps it’s when you dream of the sound of her voice at night when she decides not to come, leaving you alone to think of not a single thing but her. 

Once the door closes, it’s just the two of you. Abby’s musk is overwhelming, she tends to be, but you seem to welcome it with open arms. There's a pot roast you made for her, devouring it silently at the round dining room table, her muscular thigh touching yours, reminding you of the feelings which never seem to wither. 

Her brown, weathered stetson hat sits on the empty chair, her fingertips picking at the frayed edge, the nagging thought in her brain shouts at her to say something, anything, but you beat her to it. 

“You don’t have to stay, Abby. You’ve got an early morning, so do I.” You pick up the emptied plates, washing them at the sink when you feel strong, protective, arms wrap around your waist, her chin resting against your shoulder. 

“Why are you putting words in my mouth, darling?” Pink lips decorate deliberate kisses along the side of your neck, “I’m right where I wanna be. M’here with you, not going anywhere.” 

With her pointer finger, she tilts your head to her, dominant lips catching hers, Abby’s hold keeping you in place as she reminds you of what it feels like to be held by the person you call home. The quivering feeling shoots a shiver up your spine, her hands don’t stop moving as they caress your body. 

“C’mon now, you need some sleep.” Her southern drawl is strong as ever as she leads you up the stairs into your bedroom. “S’late, can’t have you not gettin’ sleep because of little ‘ole me.” 

You know what she wants and you know you’ll do it too. 

Anything for her. Right? 

A freshly showered Abby emerges as naked as the day she was born. Porcelain skin tanned by the radiance of the sun from a hard day’s work, a constellation of freckles cover her body. There’s an abundance collecting at her shoulders, across her collarbones as they dust her strong nose and spread across perfectly sculpted cheeks. 

The time you have with each other is few and far in between, occupied by the responsibilities of managing a ranch with her father commands most of the hours of the day, keeping her effectively away from you.

Plus, the feeling swarming in her heart she refuses to see yet she’s here a few times a week, wanting this. If Abby wants more, she’s good at hiding it, but the thought alone is dangerous. You can allow yourself to want more, not when she gives you nothing in return. 

“Are you gonna come over here, gorgeous?” She slides in between your legs, some of her weight soothingly collapses onto you. “Patience darling, m’right here, not going anywhere.” 

With a sigh of content, she grabs you by the waist as she pulls you on top of her with ease. Abby’s golden waves kiss your face as she hides her face in the crook of her neck. Meticulously, the blunt of her fingertips draw patterns on your skin, playing with the hem on your lace undergarment, the only piece of clothing left in your body. 

“You will go somewhere. In the morning, you’ll leave without saying goodbye. Jus’ like you do after every night.” Abby tightens her hold, thinking if she keeps you close you won't slip through but truth be told? She’d be the first to drop you, even if it wasn't her intention. 

“Sorry, m’not strong like you.” 

“I think you’re a lot stronger than you think, y’know?” Her lips find yours as her skin smothers you in the body wash she keeps in the cabinet. Soft breasts melt against her own, calming her in a way Abby can’t quite comprehend. 

This was more than just sex. If that’s all this was, she would be the nearest bar picking up the closeted women who fawn over her before she even steps her foot in the front door. The most sought after woman in town, yet it’s her tongue in your mouth, claiming in a way words fail her. 

“Abby—” The moan vibrates through her, she falls into the sensation of your heavenly skin, smooth against her calloused hands. Every inch of your body feels golden to her. It’s what she craves, the intimacy without having to be, so good, a delicate sigh leaves her puffy lips. “I—” 

With a loving look in her wondrous pools of deep sea blues, with a hint of gray stowed away beneath the light, she inquires for you to continue as she looks up at you. 

Your hands gently touch her face, thumb lovingly soothing over the apples of her cheeks and the scar decorating one of them. There’s nothing she despises more than it, makes her look far too damaged, but you’ve always thought it makes her the person she is. 

Strong, loving, imperfectly perfect. 

The first time you did it, she flinched as she gripped your wrist, pulling your fingers away from marking. Now, she closes her eyes and lets you. 

“When can I tell you without you running? When are you gonna stay?” Abby wants to tell you, say it. I won’t leave. I’ll always be here, right with you, forever. 

She doesn’t. She can’t. 

The words die on her tongue, the three little ones she feels but can’t let through. The past hurts haunt her as it disgusts itself as a never ending hangover which she holds it against you. It’s not meant to be cruel, it certainly isn’t fair, but it’s all she can do until time heals the festering wound. 

“I don’t have an answer for you—” Her blue eyes open, her lips ghosting over your again. “But, this, you? It’s just you and me. No one else, darling.” 

For now, it’s enough, but Abby stresses over the day where you’ve had enough cursing at the wind and whatever god sits above. 

One day, somewhere in the near future, she won’t be.

taglist: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @nybueckers @tlouloser

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[roseglazedlens]

⦑ THE FUCKING DEAD ⦒ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

➠ series masterlist | 🔃girl’s route | 🔃boy’s route |

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓┇𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑┇𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐅𝐈𝐂┇𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 LEON S. KENNEDY & CARLOS OLIVEIRA X AFAB GN! READER ADA WONG & JILL VALENTINE X AFAB GN! READER chapter synopsis: You are amongst the top five selected for this infiltration to take down Glenn Arias. An argument unfolds between the agents and you are forced to pick a side. chapter content: smut in next chapter, resident evil: vendetta spoilers, zombies, haunted mansion, explicit themes throughout this series. a/n: welcome to my second series!! (need to finish my first one oops) on a thursday one month ago, i thought to myself 'zombie threesome hehehe', then i took the idea and sprinted with it and this series is born. so, uh... zombiefuckers rise up?? « 3.3 k words | general masterlist | ao3 | reblogs appreciated! »

Millions are dying—Mass infections are happening across the globe swamping the streets with an unbeknownst fear. The symptoms of this virus are faint, indecipherable next to an x-ray of a man who is perfectly healthy. Not even the carrier themselves are aware of how the virus lies underneath their veins, dormant, until a click of button is pressed from a commander far away, then their symptoms worsen: a headache, a cold, veins turning purple as the poison hatches in them, spreading, until the only thing that can manoeuvre their limbs is the word: KILL.

That’s the greatest strength of this virus. Anyone can be infected, and maybe, you already are.

This product first reached the underground market three months ago. Called the A-Virus; a bioweapon succeeded in the market for its ability to infect targeted communities remotely and leaving no evidence on the perpetrator, which no other distributors had successfully produced before.

Engineered by Glenn Arias, the researcher sold over thousands of this bioweapon, becoming a billionaire overnight at the cost of lives lost from the whims of the rich. He supplied the wealthy and corrupted, like insatiable brats, with new remote-controlled monster trucks, who only aims to tear down families and have their victims beg mercy to a monster that will not speak reason.

Hence, this problem brought attention to a global scale, having the DSO come in alliance with the BSAA and other independent mercenaries to hunt down the vaccine and put a stop to Arias’ grand schemes. Handpicking five agents who are equipped with both experience and skill to combat a zombie attack on this scale of doom and urgency.

Those five agents are Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira, Leon S. Kennedy, Ada Wong, and you.

A plan is already in place. A distraction concocted with your intel and the help of a senior researcher of all things bioweapons, Rebecca Chambers. While Arias is busy attending fake business meetings on the other side of the world, the five of you will infiltrate his private mansion to retrieve a concentrated sample of the A-Virus. Rebecca can use the sample to reverse engineer it into a cure and send her findings to facilities across the world.

The plan sounds brilliant in writing, but when you arrived his private mansion in Queretaro region, Mexico, something is off about this place.

Arias is a mastermind, you had been warned many times, in which you appropriately prepared all your best gear for this mission to treat it with utmost gravity. You’re thinking armed guards, well-equipped security, BOWs. But when the five of you pushed open the front doors of his mansion, it was quiet.

Empty. Not a single soul. Just five of you greeted by the whisk of wind through weakly hinged windows that somehow makes the humid air stick to your skin further. Did Rebecca get the wrong info? No one lived there. From what you heard when you were in town, not even the locals dare to venture anywhere near the odd gothic mansion on the top of the hill. They said it’s abandoned, cursed, rumoured to whisk away young children if they ever step foot inside.

It’s a story they say to stop the naughty kids, you remind yourself. It’s not haunted. And you’re not a kid anymore.

The inside is abandoned. Cobwebs lay thick between cornices and carved columns, the floors laced with a film of dust on the luxurious dark wood flooring, creaking with worn age as you take each step. Besides the chandelier, every single piece of furniture is either the same colour of black or red, or nothing else. The soft red velvet upholstery and the rug are made with the same fabric. And you can find the same dark wood in every corner of this house. It’s in the tables, the shelves, the chaise, the painting frames, and stone-like head sculpture whittled with the same exact dark wood, ridged the exact uniform way.

Then, you look at the wall. Black patches of mould smearing across the burgundy wallpaper like a crime scene.

Something creaks behind you. The hair on your arms stands up as you shiver, immediately followed by a wave of embarrassment. Despite the number of times you had taken down hordes of incoming zombies like they’re cardboard targets, why is a bit of wind freaking you out? It’s not a ghost, just old foundations, maybe mice, or wind kicking something off a table, like how every old house sounds like. You look around to see if anyone else catches you jumping at nothing, before Jill says, thankfully unaware of your worry:

“God, the smell. What have they done to this place?” Her hand flies over her nose as if that will help to shield any smell whatsoever. Unfortunately, the building is moulded far beyond salvageable that the stench lingers in every part of the mansion.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. We get weeks-old corpses in body bags every day. It’s absolutely retching.” Jill’s earpiece fizzes into life, and she recognises the familiar playful lilt of Rebecca’s voice on the other side of the line.

“At least that’s refrigerated and contained, Rebecca. This fucking stinks.” Jill scrunches her face like she just ate something unpleasant.

“I’m sending my sympathies from my well-conditioned lab right now.”

Carlos appears from Jill’s behind, placing a firm, teasing hand on top of Jill’s shoulder. His wavy curls catch in the wind and his teeth glistens sparkly white. “Yeah Jill, got a problem with my natural musk?”

Jill shrugs his hand off, grimacing at his attempts at flirtation. “Take a shower first, then we’ll talk.”

In which Carlos laughs, holds his hand out at his heart as if it was just torn into shreds. “That hurts my feelings, Jill. Why aren’t you ever saying things like that to pretty boy over there?”

“I have a name, Oliveira.” The blond man turns around at the call of his nickname, familiar with the nickname, but it's not pleasantly received by him.

“I think pretty boy suits you more, Kennedy.” Carlos replies, a glint in his voice that hints something a bit less than friendliness between them.

“Ah, so you do know my name.” Leon quips back while staring directly into Carlos’ eyes, before getting cut off by Jill.

“I would, Carlos, but if I have to hear one more corny ass comeback from Leon’s mouth, I’ll throw myself out the window right now.”

“Takes a genius to get my humour.” Leon smirks.

Your eyebrows raise almost immediately to chime in. “Erm… I think we have different meanings for the word ‘genius’.”

Quiet chuckles ripple through the room. It helps that you have worked with these guys throughout the years and had come to know and get close to them—some a bit closer than just friends—but none of them are strangers by far. Usually, you would be working with only one or two of these guys, never in a big group like this, but it seems that everyone is already well-acquainted with each other.

You toss a glance at Carlos and catch him staring at you, smiling. Ah, you see now. Carlos must have been trying to lighten the mood because you had been jumpy ever since you had arrived. You nod at him, a silent thank you before the five of you venture deeper into the eerie atmosphere.

The goal is to arrive at Glenn Aria’s office. According to Rebecca’s intel, Arias hid a concentrated sample in a safe last time he was here. You will need Ada to crack the safe to retrieve the sample and deliver it to Rebecca. As you traverse the corridors, it twists and turns in different directions—whoever engineered this did not enjoy unexpected guests at all. But under Rebecca’s guidance, she walks you and your team through the labyrinth with ease and precision.

But unfortunately, not ease and precision on your part. You trip over your own leg and almost fall to the floor as you round a harsh turn according to Rebecca’s instructions, and Jill catches you right on the arm before you fall.

“Easy there.” Jill pulls you up the ground, and you regain some balance. “You good? Mind your step.”

“Why did I agree to babysit?” Ada speaks, finally, for the first time in this mission. Despite how quietly she spoke under her breath, her words abruptly cut through the air, and all attention is on her and the red sweater dress that curves into her frame perfectly now.

“Oh, I bet once you get your paycheck it will be worth it. Or will you be betraying us, huh, Ada?”

Leon smirks loudly. Ada’s face goes from tired to exhausted in one second. “You just can’t let bygones be bygones, can you?”

“That’s rich coming from someone who used to work for Wesker.” Ada’s heels come to a stop, and with a slow turn, she stares deeply into Leon’s eyes that speak a million threats without needing to be utter a word. Oh, and believe me, you do not want to be messing with Ada. You learnt that the hard way.

“Woah, guys. Let’s keep this civil. No need to get heated.” Carlos rushes to stand right between them as the duo glares at each other with passionate fury and resentment.

You nod, joining Carlos’ side to stand by him. “Carlos’s right. This is not the time to pick a fight.” But it falls on the deaf ears of Leon and Ada.

“Thousands were killed. I want what’s good for the people, and I’m not sure Ada here is on the same page.” Leon continues, adding fuel to the fire.

Ada lets out a disbelieved gasp in response, before recollecting herself and replying in her usual tone of calmness: “Someone has to pay the price. I’m just the executor.”

“Regardless of our motivations, we all are on the same side here.” Carlos attempts at resolution again, putting his hands up in between them, and fails embarrassingly once more.

The air is heated with hostility; Leon and Ada’s eyes are locked in a trance, a hazy spite that reigns their composure, that looking away from each other means forfeiting. You don’t see either of them walking away first, they are both prideful people after all.

“Uh… Jill? Some help?” Carlos looks around to find Jill, who is leaning against a wall, her arms relaxing by her sides, unphased by the fire stirring right in front of the crowd.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.” Jill is merely waiting for either one of the parties roll over.

You feel speckles of flame through the two of them, as if steam is retreating over the top of their heads, burning not just them, but also everyone else in the room. Until the boiling point hits, and it erupts all in one second. The duo walks away, off to different directions in bitter adrenaline, until you and Carlos are just looking at each other.

“I guess we’ll take five. There’s a safe room up ahead.” Carlos is speaking, but you’re the one listening.

The five of you enters the safe room in silence. It is a storage room—despite its name, it’s quite large for a normal storage room—with boxes stacked on all ends that made the room seem smaller in comparison. A ceiling light illuminates the room dimly, but it isn’t enough to shade away years of old animosity from their past.

The lively conversations you had mere minutes ago is gone now. Just silence and awkward rustling as each of you sits in your own designated corner. Carlos and Jill find themselves a seat on top of a firm box. Leon and Ada giving each other the silent treatment, standing on farthest end of the room to each other. You are simply minding your own business, gathering materials to craft a flashbang to pass the time. Doesn’t hurt to have more supplies anyway.

There is a notable division on each side, an imaginary alliance that you choose to be on neither side. Until Leon crosses the boundary line, somehow making his way to you. He picks up an empty grenade case next to you, assembling the pieces together for your project.

“Sorry you had to see that.” A little guilt tugs at Leon’s voice.

“Not at all. I get why you felt that way.” Leon nods, a look of gratitude hanging softly through a smile. His other finger seals the flashbang cap and hands it back to you. “But you need to learn to control your temper. Especially when it comes to Ada.”

Speaking of Ada, a shiver runs down your spine suddenly. The feeling of someone sending laser signs and telepathic warnings towards you. You turn around towards the direction of the aura to find Ada, her back leaning against the wall, arms crossed without engaging or acknowledging anyone in the room. She stands by herself alone, and that’s how you had always known Ada—distant and in her own mysterious world. Not really a chatter, despite the number of times she had saved you in the past.

Ada does not look at you, but you can feel her glaring down—either you or Leon—with her entire body.

“Good to see the two of you getting along at least.” Carlos holds out two plastic water bottles to you two from a supply crate he found in the room, which Jill has finished downing two of them already.

You two gesture ‘no thanks.’ Ada does not spare Carlos a glance at his direction when he offers.

“You’re welcome, I guess.” Carlos says sarcastically, before taking in a generous sip from his drink.

There’s a moment of silence. Then, a moment of dry coughs; a squeak of footsteps, a joint click from a stretching neck. Then silence once more.

“I’ve had enough.” Jill slaps her hands on her thigh before pushing herself up from her seat. “You guys gonna keep acting like kids? Grow up, this isn’t high school anymore. Take your drama outside. If we’re gonna take down Arias, we have to get along. And yes, that means moving on from shit that happened… five years ago? Five years ago and you two are still hung up? Unlike you all, I’m actually looking forward to go home and get a decent shower, hopefully soon.”

You nod in approval as Jill speaks her mind, and you are glad at least the few of you have their priorities in order. Ada flicks her head away from Jill, but her silence is telling of how much she is thinking over Jill’s words.

“Leon, can you accept this?” Jill asks.

There’s a bit of reluctance in his voice, but he agrees anyway. “Fine.”

“Ada?”

Before Ada can respond, smoke is creeping into your vision, coming in quick. It merges into your view, obscuring it, and you whiff something artificial, some kind of chemicals that is piercing to your nose and eyes. You can’t help but wince, hands groping the air in attempts to find comfort in the person closest to you—anyone for that matter—to indicate you’re safe and is indeed not under attack. Your fingers find themselves in a fistful of someone’s shirt, muscles tensing tightly underneath the fabric on their shoulder cap.

“Leon. Is that you?” You cry out.

“It’s me. Stay close and don’t let go. It’s an ambush.” Leon pulls your arm towards him, securing your safety with his hand in yours.

There is some coughing through the air, faint panic in voices underneath the hissing of gas that seems to be coming from above. You hold onto Leon a bit tighter.

Carlos calls out desperately “Where are you guys? Is everyone okay?” as he flaps his hand around the smoke to stir it away. He finds you and Leon almost immediately, and looks down to your hands, finding them clasped tight against each other. Your hand lets go of Leon flying behind your back, but Carlos already saw it.

Jill is coughing deep from the smoke. “I-I’m here!”

“It seems like we’re all here.” Ada says, composed as ever despite the circumstances.

The smoke dissipates—until most of the fog fades away, escaping through the cracks underneath the door to the other side. Leaving the five of you standing in the same storage room darting eyes around, seemingly unharmed, and even more confused.

After what feels like a while later, Jill finally breaks the silence: “Huh. What was that?”

“No enemies.” Ada unholsters the pistol from her belt, inspecting the room and the door behind the room. “Clear on this side too.”

It’s strange. If this is an ambush, why isn’t there an attack?

Leon places a finger on his earpiece to activate his microphone. “Rebecca, come in. We’ve just been ambushed by some kind of smoke, but nobody’s hurt. Happen to know what’s going on?”

His earpiece buzzes into life. “Hmm, let’s see. From the architecture plans, I see the vents are connected to a lab below. It seems abandoned, there are no signs of anyone triggering an attack on my end.”

“Whatever it is, we need to investigate.” Leon’s voice is firm and serious. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

You swallow deeply, fear settling back inside you. “You think it’s a trap?”

“I think…” Leon pinches his chin. “…Arias knows that we’re here.”

Your heart drops—Bundle of fear, anxiety and stress springing back into your nerves as you probe at the possibility of Glen Arias knowing where you are. What you’re trying to do. Making sure you will never reach that sample despite your hardest wills.

“He shouldn’t. Rebecca, didn’t Arias get on the jet?” Carlos is also thinking too.

“Affirmative. Security footage showed Arias walking into his private jet, and it took off four hours ago. He should still be in the air. No signal of them making a pitstop anywhere.”

You hear black pumps clacking against the hardwood floor. “I’m getting the sample.” Says Ada, her foot is already halfway out of the door. “Follow me or not, I don’t care. I’m here for the objective, and only that.”

“And what if something happens to you?” Carlos asks, genuinely concerned.

“I’ll deal with it if it happens.” Ada waves dismissively.

“Ada’s right, we could be set on a wild goose chase.” Jill chimes in. “Millions of lives are dying. We don’t have time to waste.”

“I guess it’s just you and me then, pretty boy.” Carlos rounds his arm around Leon’s neck, bringing him closer in an almost choking grip, a little too close and tight to his liking. And with Leon’s history with Carlos, Leon refuses to believe this is just a friendly gesture.

Leon grimaces, removing Carlos’ hand over him. “So that’s it? We’re splitting up?” The answer is unanimous. “Fine. I guess we’ll cover more ground if we split up.”

Rebecca, through the other side of your earpiece, speaks: “Be careful everyone. You don’t know what kind of schemes Glenn Arias had set up. Please stay safe.”

“We’ll be fine, as long as we don't have any traitors in our team.” Leon says the word ‘traitor’ while maintaining eye contact with Ada. She ignores him, simply deadpans.

“Well, what about you?” Leon nudges at your arm.

You are faced with two options. Indulge in your curiosity and find the source of the gas, or stick to mission as planned? Both options will be dangerous. So who will you trust with your life?

[OPTION A] “I’ll follow the girls.”

[OPTION B] “I’ll follow the boys.”

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 thanks for reading! come check out my other works! —yours truly, rose. i love my beta reader @scar-crossedlvrs! series taglist: @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted @daydreamrot @madcap-riflette @access--granted @obsolescent @briermelli @secretiveauthor @ghosty-frog @navstuffs @slowcryinginthedark @rentaldarling @lesbntired © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

[userchai]

Sweeter Than Cherry Pie

Eddie munson x Fem Reader (smut)

wordcount- 590

warnings// name calling, older Eddie, dick piercing mentioned, oral ((male receiving)), Eddie is a perv, slight gagging, minors do not read thank you, if I missed any warnings just let me know! I thought of this in a few minutes so if there are errors I apologize in advance, not proofread, feedback is welcome!

“That’s it baby, keep those pretty eyes on me.” You bite your lip in anticipation as you kneel in front of your older neighbor. You’d waited for this moment for months, ever since you moved to the neighborhood you’d been enamored with Eddie, the thoughts that flashed through your mind about him were nothing short of pornographic. You squirm impatiently, opening your mouth to say something, anything but no words escape you as he laughs down at you. He grins down at you, as he reaches down to grab your hand. “So soft baby, it’s gonna feel real good wrapped around my cock.” You bite back a moan as he drags your hand across his thigh, guiding it to the straining bulge pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. “Tell me what you need, baby.” Your face is pinched between his pointer finger and thumb, causing your lips to push out uncomfortably, before he’s moving his ringed hand to grab at your hair instead. “Please, Mr. Munson, want your cock.” You whine out desperately, butterflies overtaking your stomach at how pathetic you sound. You’re at his mercy and it’s the most delicious feeling you’ve ever felt. The older man laughs at you, he thinks you’re adorable begging for his cock like you’ll die without it, he’d also watched you ever since you came into town. He felt like a perv from how he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, but at some point all the cares he had went out the window after you strutted over to his house, looking like sin. You’d come to bring him over a pie you’d made, striking up a conversation that quickly led to him inviting you inside. “Do you deserve it sweetheart? It’s not very neighborly of you to come over and beg for me to fuck you princess, in fact it’s pretty fucking pathetic. Are you pathetic baby?” He whispers out, leaning down as he pulls your head back hard, forcing you to make eye contact with his brown orbs. You try to nod, wincing at the harsh sting of Eddie’s fingers pulling your hair tight. “I-I’m pathetic for you sir, please.” Eddie grins, letting go of you before fumbling with his belt, watching as drool practically runs out of your mouth. He hooks his calloused fingers inside of his pants before pushing them down, his boxers following right along with them. Your eyes almost cross at the sight before you, his cock is hard and leaking, a piercing right at the tip, the sunlight from his bedroom window making it almost sparkle. He wraps a hand around himself, stroking it a few times in front of your face as you thank whatever being allowed you to have this. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you forward, before he’s slapping the head against your mouth a few times, silently telling you to open up. You obey immediately, opening your mouth as far as you can, your jaw aching. The strange sensation of his piercing rubbing against the top of your mouth is all you can think about but it’s quickly forgotten as he pushes himself completely down your throat, causing you to gag around him. “Oh fuck, baby, that little mouth is sweeter than the cherry pie you brought me.” Your eyes roll back at his words, an aching feeling working its way through your body and down to your core. You’d make Eddie all the pies in the world if it meant you’d be rewarded like this.

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[wonryllis]

미래, 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: the backstory

FEATURING. insanely love struck BRAT TAMER lee heeseung with his SPOILED BRAT RICH GIRL reader GENRE. smau, fluff, smut, crack WORDCOUNT. around 800 ( MASTERLIST )

to say you and heeseung were from two different worlds would be an understatement. you were from two completely different galaxies. emphasis: completely.

if the world was your home and the galaxy was your entire lifestyle, then heeseung swears it would take him more than a billion light years to reach even the place he could stand to have a little glimpse of you who lights up everyone else's worlds around you.

reaching you is a long journey and attaining you: impossible in the advancement of science.

yet you were merciful enough to let— to want someone like him to stay, to hover around you like a housefly, to grow to have the guts to want you.

heeseung's uncle and aunt, deprived of parenthood for various reasons, had always loved to have him stay with them during summer breaks. an hour's drive from his house, a duplex that resembled his own albeit a bit smaller and two months of enjoying trips to water parks, amusement parks, aquariums and everything he ever wanted all in the short span.

he remembers little of it now, but sometime around when he celebrated upgrading from preschool to elementary with a little toy plane they gifted, came the news that their small business took a turn for the good and within a few months of it they moved.

the first time he went over after that was like stepping into a dream. the big mansion, the rich neighborhood and the nice neighbours, the pretty neighbour.

even for a five year old with the memory of a pea sized goldfish and a mind that had no sensible knowledge of romance and love, heeseung can precisely recall the moment he fell. fall, fall, fell, fallen. down that rabbit hole of special feelings that took him seven years to realize.

your brothers were nice enough to let him wander around their precious baby sister they so obviously were overprotective over, yes even for a six/seven year old. and soon that hospitality and little playdates turned into actual and genuine friendships and relations that heeseung grew to cherish, his prized little treasured found family. and love.

summer breaks turned into winter breaks and then into every opportunity he could find to pay them a visit longer than a week.

he was there during every big occasion of your lives and you and your brothers were there for his. probably because your families never minded the difference in class and always welcomed the other's presence.

it was just before the fall of his senior year in high school when heeseung took the decision to apply for scholarships in your city. his middle class family still lived in their cozy old house in the small town he had known his entire life and the city waited him a lifetime of opportunities he couldn't dare to lose. especially if he ever decided to woo you in the future he must have the capacity to pamper your spoiled heart.

you weren't just the daughter of a rich family. you were the only precious little lovely, beyond spoiled rotten daughter of a family that came from old money. old money bridging middle class. something he could never achieve, but to have the slightest chance he must be in position to give you whatever you want (besides an island like you asked for your 18th birthday, but that's okay he loves that side of you and perhaps he's sick for that, but he's far too in love.)

when his scholarship was approved and he scored a seat in one of the prestigious colleges near your neighborhood, it gave him the perfect opportunity to move in with his uncle and aunt, to move in next door to you.

to be blessed to have the chance to catch sight of you everyday. and to have the chance to hangout with you whenever he wished to and whenever you wished to.

always at your beck and call like your obedient little lord in waiting.

heeseung's actual love life (his efforts to get you to fall for him as he calls it) started in the third year of college when you joined as a freshman. and two years since, he's been trying. you're just way too oblivious to notice his subtle moves and heeseung is way too scared of your brothers to confess bluntly.

it's all just been a huge mess, and everyone (his and your friends) is just here for the comedy heeseung's life has turned into .. especially with you crushing on beomgyu—

PREV | NEXT

PREVIEW. you always get what you want, spoiled with the love of everyone around you. and it's all innocent love, at least that's what everyone thinks. it comes with much surprise therefore, when heeseung makes a move on you. thirteen long years of being in the brother zone having made him utterly clueless that if he’s going to date you he has to pass through your actual brothers first. and he knows how scary they can be. especially since they are known to have a sister complex and he’s been the third scary one with them, numerous times before.

taglist ( open ) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @aaa-sia @snoopypupp @criminalyun @oddracha @satan-223 @diorsyun @hooniehon @fakeuwus @caramelcandescence @intromortal @kookify @yutasberryy @sumzysworld @nikiswifiee @shuichi-sama @primroselover @rayofsunshineeee @aishigrey @yjwluvs @soraokkotsu @nyfwyeonjun @srhnyx @trashx678 @wondipity @winuvs @hoondiors @niniissus @firstclassjaylee @biancaness @enhaz1 @sophi-ee @un06 @heelariously @d-earlog @pharaways @ethelia send an ask to be added! (if your comment goes unnoticed it is not my responsibility)

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 9 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 (here) — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13

In a snap, you and Velvette were the only ones in a pitch black space. Even though it appeared to be nothing but darkness, Velvette could still see your figure before her, serenely floating in the space while she was disgracefully trying to balance herself from the lack of gravity

You watched with a gentle expression while Velvette desperately tried to steady herself quickly before she embarrasses herself even further. Especially not after her confident declaration of independence from the Vees. After a while of watching her frail around in the air, you snapped your fingers and gave her a platform to stand on

Finally, you welcomed her to a pocket world of your own. A world where only you can enter and bring others in and out, only with your permission. A world that is similar to what humans would prefer to as ‘limbo’. It’s a place where you let souls roam till they lost their minds, a world where anyone was at your mercy

Though you only brought Velvette here as a means of ensuring privacy since Cannibal Town was more open in their affairs and didn’t mean letting others know details through some gossip here and there. Then it was a matter of time before the whole story or truth was pieced out

As much as you liked the citizens of Cannibal Town, you’re not above distrusting them as they were the nosy bunch. Yet you know that they weren’t the same stalking type like Vox is with his technology

This place was created more as a counter to that Garden of plenty. Trees, fruits, animals, clean streams, and even more. Truly a place of plenty that anyone would love to stay in. Compared to your little dark dimension, it was obvious where one would prefer if given the choice to stay. Instead of calling it a counter to the Garden, you were more incline to call it an opposite

But there really was nothing to do here instead of floating around and conjuring whatever as long as it was you doing it. Another souls can’t do a thing in this place. Even if you put Zestial in here, he can do his fancy magic or Alastor can’t summon his tendrils and minions

Why’d you think you hold an iron fist over the strongest beings in Hell? You can instantly put them in their place by stripping them of all their power and possession. Put them in a place where they are nothing to you

Hell is a place where power and authority meant stability. Unlike Earth, there aren’t laws written on paper where everyone must follow else there’d be punishment. Unlike Heaven, it wasn’t made up with beings of purity and goodness. No. Hell was a place where the worse of the worse resides, where monsters and demons of one’s nightmare lives and strives

Hell is a lawless and chaotic domain that you rule and oversee. It was never your intention to show yourself nor make yourself know to the beings of Hell. But when Trick (Noir at the time) were praised and worshipped by their Angels and other Heavenly beings, you wanted something similar to that

No, not in the same way. Oh clouds, never in that way. You wanted obedience and loyalty, you wanted to be the thing they feared. You didn’t like how they believe they were the ones in power. So one by one, you defeated the ruling powers and reminded them they were nothing. That was how the 7 Rings of Hell came to be, divide and conquer

While Heaven has that one place, you created levels for Hell. A Ring for each Sin. And what better Ring for you to primarily stay in but Pride? 

When the first ‘Sinner’ arrived, you looked through the soul’s memory. There had never been a reason for you to visit Earth, nor did Noir arrange the frequent chats like nowadays, so you never expected for a soul to arrive in Hell or death for that matter

Seeing the pridefulness in their evil deeds, you wonder just a moment if more souls would be Sinners and sent to Hell later. If so, should they be judged by you and placed into different Rings? Then came the idea of you staying behind the scenes, as the puppeteer of the ruling figures sounded appealing

The moment Lucifer and Lilith arrived, you gave them their titles as the King and Queen of Hell. But never the title of ‘Emperor’ or ‘Empress’, no, they were merely the king and queen on the chess board. The player was you and opposite to you was none other than Trick

More and more Sinners came to Hell and then a whole world of them came. So you restricted them to the Pride Ring since they were Lucifer and Lilith’s handy work. They should be looking over their subjects. Sinners were indeed prideful, they were unable to comprehend a higher power such as yourself even existing. Well, some weren’t even aware they were only existing in one of the seven Rings

You found Lucifer and Lilith’s attention to Sinners’ being lacking. What with their whole family drama, you took things into your own hand. You created a group, your very own collection. You dubbed them ‘Elites’

Individuals with power and authority in a specific domain or area, even element. They were your hand picked, they were the ones with potential to advance to a higher level. The first level was their title as an ‘Overlord’, the next was your acknowledgement and support, then a unique title of recognition, and the rest is as natural as breathing. Obedience, servitude, and loyalty

“Velvette,” You called out to her as she straightened up on her platform, your softer smile widened a bit. “Do you see yourself as an Overlord?”

The doll demon’s shoulders raised a bit as she bit her lower lip, her hands balling into fists too. It took a few seconds before she spoke, very unlike what she would usually do in the past. “I once did. But now that I look back, I don’t think I’m one.”

“You are correct.” You didn’t even sugarcoat the truth, nor did you hide that widening smile of yours. The fact that your eyes were still closed might there was no malice behind your words, merely that you were playful with the truth. Like you were dangling a carrot for a rabbit. You raised your palm and a necklace with a familiar eye design pendant appeared hovering, “Are you aware of what this it?”

“The thing you used to contact Overlords?” Velvette seen it before, Vox was always in a frenzy when that lit up and a voice came through. He was also overly pushy with keeping it, claiming that he was the only one that can keep track of it. So she never saw or touch it herself outside of when Vox would buy it to their penthouse.

You chuckled, “Ah, The Vees, weren’t you all acting as a team? How is it that you lack knowledge of this? Is Vox the brains? Does he keep all the information from you and Valentino?” You reviled in the contemplating look on the doll’s face before continuing. “It has been explained, this is a symbol of your status as an Overlord. You are to keep it on you at all times so that I can keep an eye on you, also to lend you protection should you require it.”

Velvette’s eyes widened, “Vox never… He said… He said only he should…”

You hummed, expecting such a result already. “I know. That’s why…” Your head tilted as your eyes peeked open a bit, a chill was sent down Velvette’s entire body when she made eye contact, yet she can’t look away. That look in your eyes, it was enchanting and magnetic. “When you said you can’t stand it, you want to separate your association with Vox and Valentino…” You suddenly appeared in front of her in the blink of an eye, making her fall back. “Well, then I had to give you a chance.”

“A chance?” Velvette repeated in disbelief. 

You looked down at her, your eyes now closed but you small smile stayed. “Yes. Making you start from rock bottom, you’re not at the bottom when you’ve built yourself quite the reputation, right? So why not offer you a chance to change instead?” You snapped your fingers and holograms of plain cards appeared all around the two of you. “You have various skills and talents, I won’t deny that. But you lack a solid base and worthy allies to lean on, it shows you see, how little you know of my expectations yet try to adhere to them.”

Velvette figured you meant when she was counting down for the Vees to bow in union when greeting you back then at the meeting. 

A card flew to you and you held it between two fingers, “No longer will you be a demon of social media. You will be reborn under my support and guidance of more knowledgable associates.” The card in your fingers burned to nothing and Velvette felt herself lightened like a weight was removed from your shoulders. You gestured to the cards floating around, “Review what you have and what you wish to have. Assess yourself. Assemble your new title.”

“Yes,” Velvette fell to her kneel on the platform, bowing her head for a moment before look directly into your eyelids, where your eyes would make contact with hers if they were opened. “I will not disappoint you again, My Sovereign.”

When you brought Velvette back to the room, Rosie was already giddy as she immediately dragged Velvette off to change clothes. Something about changing style to show a new transformation or a new ‘Velvette’ that has been reborned. Well, Velvette didn’t even disagree or fight Rosie in that and went along with it

You were positive they’d be having a little chat lady to lady and soul to soul while Rosie dresses her up just like the doll she is. So you just sat down and sipped from your cup that Rosie didn’t neglect. You leaned back into the chair while you hummed a satisfied tune to no one, things were turning out great

Originally, you thought it’d take longer for something to happen with the Vees, but for this situation to happen and so fast… It just proves that they weren’t as bonded as they promoted

Naturally, the Vees were using each other to gain power and authority. While it was a good plan, since it was similiar to how you Collection works. It lacked solidity. With Velvette being the one to leave so willingly, it meant that she was less connected to them as a team player

They all had their uses to each other, Vox providing the technological platform, Valentino providing the content, and Velvette deciding what was presented. In this sense, they were solid. But what of their bonding and connection? To be this disorganized and this arrogant, there was bound to be clashes

You saw that when your collection first met each other. There was no order and no connectivity, that was what makes the team weak and unworthy in your eyes. Though there was always the matter in their titles

Unlike your other Overlord souls, theirs were more of a self-proclaimed titles and never approved by the likes of you. Similar to what you did with Velvette moments ago, each Overlord had their ‘makeover’ and rebirth after recognizing that their original selves were lacking

More importantly, it served as a way for you to build a multifunctional collection. While you’ll admit Overlords were nowhere as strong as the Hellborn royalty or nobles, you do see their potential, they were the only ones that can get stronger with more souls collected. In a way, you see some similarities they have with you. That was why your elite was comprised of these souls you nurture and care for

Your thoughts moved back to the present when Rosie caught your attention and gestured to the doorway where Velvette emerged. Though less revealing, she was wearing something more commanding yet modest. You hummed with a smile, complimenting her new look. Velvette bastfully thanked you but credited Rosie for the work

Now Velvette was getting somewhere. You see that she wasn’t just saying that she’ll change to keep her place in your collection, but truly wanted to change for herself as well. A slow progress that you’ll no doubt patiently watch over and tend to, something that you won’t do alone

Velvette kneeled down and asked a humble request from you. She wanted your approval so that she can make amends with Carmilla. Well, she has much to learn, this wasn’t something she needed permission for, in fact, she could just do it herself. Yet you eyed Rosie and say that smile that made you understand this was Rosie’s suggestion

You’ll humor the two. With a snap of your finger, Carmilla suddenly found herself in the same room was the three of you. Eventhough she was confused, first thing she did was bowed and greeted you. After receiving your greetings back, she questioned what was going on, eying Velvette

♪ I should have shown some respect. ♪ Velvette stepped forward and bowed her head with a guilty expression, ♪Checked my behaviour. It wasn’t right of me to act so brazen. ♪ 

Carmilla raised her eyebrow, then quickly caught on to the shift in Velvette’s position and smirked, ♪ Ha. That’s rare. Not very like the wild lady I know from before. ♪ She pointed a finger at Velvette, ♪ Maybe I missed it, but since when does Velvette the Doll Demon act all submissive and dull? Hm? There’s nothing wrong with your attitude, there’s no need for a new one. It was all your actions and associations at fault. Now that you’re not the backbone of the Vees, ♪ She took Velvette by the hand and guided her to bow before you while you smiled with a head title. ♪ Know that we all serve one Liege! ♪ 

♪ The past is the past! ♪ Rosie joined in and chimed, side hugging the smaller demon. ♪ We support each other as Our Liege’s Elite Souls. ♪ 

♪ Hehe. ♪ Velvette smiled along, ♪ I guess I should have learned to be respectful sooner. ♪ 

Carmilla maintained her smirk, but now it was more taunting and playful, maybe a hint of pridefulness in it as well. ♪ You were once among the inane and uninformed. But not anymore now that you have found your place and strive to change! ♪ 

Velvette gave the two taller demons a grateful and relieved look, ♪ I hope I didn’t strive too much of a nerve. Cause when I acted that way, I never stopped to think that I’d regret it. And why was I so blind before? That’s what I thought I was supposed to act, now I’m mad that I did that. But there’s no way I can change the past, now I see what I should be doing. Can I have your support? ♪

Carmilla and Rosie finished together, ♪ Of course, you need but ask! ♪

Clapping came from you as you gave them all proud smiles, “Now that’s my Elite Collection.”

Joy, pride, and warmth spread through the three female Overlords’ bodies. Rosie couldn’t hold it in and grabbed everyone into a hug, even pulling you into it. While Rosie was all clam and collected about it, you can’t help but notice Carmilla and Velvette acting all flustered.

The door suddenly slammed open and revealed Alastor, his eyes blinked and his body froze like a deer in headlights. Everyone stared at the opposite side in silence before you offered, “Want to join in?”

Note: That ends Velvette's section. Moving on to new minor plotlines~~ All a build-up, promise!! How's this one? (ps. Alastor's in the next one, the * special moment * between you two)

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203@hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor

[duskysprings-if]

demo (coming soon) | ro appearances | other characters

❝welcome to dusky springs. a family-friendly p̷̧̲̱͛͊̉̔̑͂ă̴̤̝r̶͎͗͋͗̈́͌͠͝͝a̸͉̫͌̉̆d̷̢̨̛͚̠̖̺̞̲̍̃̓͊̄͗̚i̷̟̱̖͆̓̉̉̽͋̌͠s̵̤̦̠̝̬̩̻̓ḙ̵̺͎̳̰̩͂̌̽͆̏̒̈́.❞

stuck in dead end jobs to pay the bills is not the future you or your twin sister envisioned for yourselves. so, when your grandfather bequeathes his museum of mysteries to you both in his will, you both leap at the chance to turn over a new leaf and start again.

only the town of dusky springs is nothing like you expected. the town is too vibrant, the people are too friendly, and the woods bordering the whole place are way too eerie for comfort.

still, you and your twin manage to carve out a piece to call home and with it, create a small family that consists of three employees of varying skill and sass, some rich kid with a surprising amount of sense, a wandering stranger, and the demon you accidentally summoned thanks to an old journal you found.

a journal that leads you to the realisation that in dusky springs…

no one is safe.

dusky springs is 18+ cog wip based on alex hirsch’s gravity falls.

content warnings include explicit language, optional sexual content, murder and attempted murder, graphic depictions of violence, blood, and injury, emotional abuse, age gap (optional), body horror, manipulative behaviours, and alcohol and drug use. please proceed with caution.

⛦ customisable mc. play as female, nonbinary, or male with cis and trans options available. chose your pronouns, identity, and titles separately.

⛦ personality stats include: stoic/emotional, cautious/reckless, ruthless/merciful, genuine/sarcastic, kind/rude, stubborn/compliant & sanity. skill stats include: physical strength, charisma, intelligence, and magic. These are subject to change, however, this if is story driven and you will not be punished for low stats.

⛦ four characters to romance with two poly options available to pursue. platonic routes available.

⛦ manage the museum of mysteries, investigate the going’s on of dusky springs, and try to keep your ragtag family from blowing something up.

aspen lyrik [m/f/nb]

the demon you accidentally summoned and bound to you. aspen is quick-witted and intelligent, and you can’t tell if they’re fond of you or not. one moment, they’re refusing to speak to you and the next, they’re almost dying in order to protect you. you knew demons were going to be confusing, but nothing could have prepared you for yours.

loukas/louella cynara [m/f]

one of the employees you inherited with the museum. lou is the laidback life-of-the-party. despite their somewhat slacker attitude at work, they become a fast and loyal friend and appear ready to accept whatever crazy theories you throw their way. as a dusky springs lifer, their insight and knowledge could prove valuable.

vanya seneci [nb]

the child of the richest family in town. vanya lives off daddy’s money without shame. getting caught up with you and the imaginary mysteries of dusky springs was the last thing they wanted. except when things get a little real, you and your twin are the only ones they can turn to.

rayn/raelyn esias [m/f]

the stranger. r rolled into town around the same time you did. the only thing you know about them is the name they gave you and the fact that they seem to know a lot more about dusky springs then they’re letting on.

poly options are aspen + rayn/raelyn and loukas/louella + vanya

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: fighting, mention of a sharp object.

Word Count: 1550 words

a/n: yeah, I couldn't wait to share this! I'm lowkey worried I'm being too repetitive in the chapters; I don't think I am when I re-read previous ones but ✨overthinking.✨ so I'll always be grateful for your feedback, and I hope you enjoy! <3

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

Chapter 8

Hongjoong flew across the room.

You know when someone is beyond infuriated and enraged, but they maintain an unmoved and unflustered disposition? That was Jisung at the moment. Despite the boiling rage that simmered and seethed inside him, Jisung displayed a calm and undisturbed expression, almost like a statue, and that could never be a good thing. Undeterred by Chan’s urges to stop him, Jisung tossed and hurled Hongjoong around while Yunho and Yeosang attempted to rescue their leader…so they could deal with him themselves.

"Is it fun to mess with someone's feelings? I don't think it is. Maybe you need a really good wake up call, coffee clearly can't help. Don't worry, this won't hurt much...at least for me." Jisung casually stated.

Jeongin lodged himself by the door because he wanted a good view of Jisung in action. Meanwhile, San and Jongho struggled to restrain Seonghwa and Mingi from pummeling Hongjoong, and Wooyoung was torn between cheering for Jisung and helping Yunho and Yeosang.

But then he realized there were enough people to handle the situation and Hongjoong deserved it, so he slipped out of the café and went searching for you. 

Wooyoung was furiously livid but at the same time, he was wretchedly heartbroken. He couldn't believe Hongjoong would ever do something like that and it was eating him alive that he didn't realize sooner. Wooyoung liked to give the benefit of the doubt to people. So, when Hongjoong coaxed him into hanging out with Lila, it was mainly due to the former's reasoning being that Lila was on her own and they should make her feel welcome.

But you also felt alone too and as Wooyoung recalled every time he essentially stood you up and listened to Hongjoong, he could feel his heart crack little by little, the pain being unbearable and unrelenting. He felt like he was slowly losing his mind, the aching feeling over the idea of losing you completely because of his foolishness, was burning like a fever and consuming all of his thoughts. It was like a hurricane, ripping through him with no mercy.

Wooyoung refused to entertain that thought and pushed it away as far away as he could. He was going to fix things on his part, and if you would have him, he would stay here in the human realm with you. He did not mind giving up his status, position and responsibilities. Rather, he preferred to help you with the café. He didn't care for the power and ranking being an alpha brought, he cared about you, and his alpha wanted you, forever and for more. 

Just like the first time he met you.

It was nearing the Christmas season, and Wooyoung convinced Yeosang to venture out to see the activities that were taking place in the main town. However, the latter found the weather to be much too dreary and cold for his liking, so he plopped himself on a bench and sent Wooyoung for a coffee. 

Wooyoung scoured every tent until he stumbled upon yours. Along with Seonghwa, the two of you planned to hand out complimentary coffee and tea for the cold weather alongside some biscuits. When he approached and met you face to face, his heart began to do somersaults and he could feel himself burning up in the cold weather. There was a connection between the two of you that united each other’s hearts. You were graceful, humorous and so pretty, the kind of beauty that radiates from within. As the two of your hands grazed one another and the familiar sparks erupted, it was like every single puzzle piece fit perfectly where it belonged.

And as the other boys came in together, it became clear that the puzzle was complete. 

Wooyoung had no idea where he was going till he saw you standing near a lake. Just like the first time he saw you, you were still charming and enchanting from afar. In an entire big city with so many scenic views, all he could see was you and he rushed to you with no time to waste.

In the meantime, you stood at the lakebed ferociously irate and riotously bitter. You could feel the flashes of irritation and raw rage thrumming through your veins. Your mood sharply decreased and soured like a lemon after the confrontation and in the moment, you wanted to do nothing more and just fiercely smack Hongjoong.

How did it end up like this? 

And was it even going to get better? You had a bad feeling it wouldn’t.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Wooyoung hollered.

Surprised, you blinked in confusion and turned to see Wooyoung hurriedly sprinting towards you.

"Wooyoung? How did you find me?”

"I just wandered around and saw you from across the street."

“You can’t just wander Wooyoung,” you chastised, “You need to be careful out here.”

Wooyoung felt that similar feeling he always felt when you reprimanded him. It felt like home again, when none of this happened.

He stood in front of you and got a good look at your expression. Despite your rigid form, your face was streaked with dry tears. He could imagine all the emotions you were currently processing. All because of them.

He then fell to his knees as he bawled.

"Please don't leave me." he then whimpered.

"Wooyoung..."

"I'm ready to give it all up for you, Y/N. I'll do whatever you need me to. My life means nothing without you in it. Please, please give me a chance."

Wooyoung couldn’t bear to lose you. He silently hoped things would get better from here, but just like you, he too had a bad feeling that loomed in the air.

"Get up Wooyoung." You spoke softly.

How is this going to go? It wasn’t just two of you, there were nine of you. One, who had already dug himself deeper and deeper in a hole, slashed a bond that was meant to be so divine and seraphic. But what about the others? They were willing to repent and atone for their actions. But…was it enough? Was there any possibility of going back to how things were before?

And Hongjoong, how do you just forget all he said and did?

It’s not like you could meet again for the first time.

You assisted Wooyoung from the ground and cupped his face to wipe away the stray tears. However, you felt it again, that bad feeling and suddenly, from your peripheral you noticed a looming figure coming towards the both of you with a sharp object in hand. Noticing the blade in full view as it neared closer, you pushed Wooyoung out of the way and tried to block it. The miscreant stumbled forward, reeling from the block and swung blindly in your direction. Despite the pounding blood in your ears, you outstretched your arm to grab the perpetrator’s wrist, only to have the blade gnash your hand and then feel a sharp sensation in your side.

Wooyoung counterattacked and managed to rip the blade out of his hand before plunging into the culprit. 

You collapsed to the ground, shaking as the pain seared through your body. In your blurred vision, you saw Wooyoung’s silhouette rush towards you, bawling your name like his life depended on it. 

The blade was coated with an extract from the deadly nightshade - crushed belladonna and nerium.

You didn't know what else happened, everything around you became indistinct and all you could remember was just Wooyoung's cries and a slight apparition of Minho before it all went black.

In the meantime, the others felt it. Your bond went desolate again. But unlike last time, this time there was no lingering presence. They couldn’t feel you whatsoever as a blackhole took over instantly.

Chan’s phone snapped everyone out of their trance. Jisung felt the shift in Chan’s aura, and as he zeroed in on Chan’s call from Minho, he knew it wasn’t good. That's the only reason why Jisung let Hongjoong go. Minho spoke loudly amidst the screams from Wooyoung and Chan felt his blood turn cold. 

No, no, no.

This can’t be happening.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asked, “Is Y/N okay?”

When Chan spluttered out what happened, an avalanche of pain crashed over them without warning. There was now a profound emptiness in each of them, even Hongjoong, threatening to swallow them whole. Their spirits felt like it was sinking like a stone in water and misery tried to seep in and envelop them like a wet blanket, heavy and smothering.

“We need to go now.” Chan firmly stated.

Each of them bolted out behind Chan leaving Hongjoong and Jisung behind.

Jisung looked at Hongjoong, and saw the grief washing over him but also realization. 

“I had told Mingi I was wary of him, but you? I don’t like you one bit. We’re not done here but if that look in your eyes means anything, then you know you better get to it. All of this is your fault, if you only had a backbone to stand up to your mother. But mark my words Hongjoong, if anything happens to Y/N, I’m coming after your whole family.”

Jisung muttered a spell in Hongjoong’s direction and left Hongjoong to himself and his grief.

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

Taglist:

@eastleighsblog @sehun096rainbow @greensnakeglobep @satsuri3su @zonked-times @sugarrush-blush @lomons @explorewithd @chatsgotmytongue @scarfac3 @popcatx0 @angrynightnight @sannieluvrr @idfkeddieishot @alicia-dpa @park-simphwa @puppyminnnie @mysticfire0435 @sundayysunshine @chngbnwf @dementedaly @thunderous-wolf @itsmeregan

a/n: hello again! just wanted to let new readers know, if you're interested in being part of the taglist, you can send me a private message or in the ask me anything! It'll be easier for me to see! if I missed your message, please PM me and I'll add you in asap! thank you! <3

[hotmessmaxpress]

Horror Au, Interlude: What happened at the ranch?

I was 99% certain that I got an ask about this, but I can't find it. This is a little interlude about what happened when Vale had an anomaly mimicking Marc appear at the ranch. Vale mentions it to Marc in part 1 of the horror au, and this is what he was referencing.

They’ve finished on track, showered, and headed upstairs to eat when the alert hits all of their phones at once. It’s one of the alerts that comes through regardless of do-not-disturb or silent settings, and Vale knows immediately it’s some sort of Anomaly event.

He checks his phone and scans the message. 

Void creature in your area. Take shelter. Lock doors and windows. Arm yourself. Take cover and stay quiet. Do not respond to voices you cannot see. Mercy be with you. 

He sighs and joins Uccio and Max as they hustle downstairs to secure the building. Garage covers come down and rolling shutters are pulled across windows. Vale is reminded, not for the first time, that he should upgrade the security of the Ranch. He pictures automatic safety devices and makes a mental note to workshop that plan with Max later. 

Once the building is secure, he heads upstairs. The boys have gotten the notification and they’ve silently chosen to congregate on the couches in the corner of the room, nervously watching their phones for updates. He settles on the floor in front of the couch, shoulder pressed to Pecco’s leg. The younger rider gives him a gentle, good-natured kick, and Vale turns to smile at him. Pecco returns the smile but he looks nervous, lips pulled taught against his teeth and brow furrowed. Vale pats him on the leg, as much of a reassurance as he can give while they are meant to be silent. 

Silence could mean a lot of things, but most commonly it means one of the void creatures; one of the mimics. 

The ranch is remote enough that it usually feels safe, but Vale has a sense of uneasiness. He isn’t sure how wide the radius is for the detection and alert system, and he wonders how close the monster is to their little sanctuary. 

They’ve been sitting in silence for what feels like hours when they hear it. 

“Vale!”

It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room. Almost at once, all heads swivel to look at him as the voice calls out again.

“Valentino!”

There’s only one voice that says his name like that; Marc. 

It’s been a long time since he heard Marc say it, and his throat feels like it might close up.

He knows it’s not Marc outside. There’s no reason that the younger man would be in Tavullia; he’s definitely not welcome in the town and there’s no way he’d even make it out to the ranch. There’s no way it could be Marc. 

Still. Vale can’t help but think of what it would be like if Marc were out there. There’s basically no way to survive a void creature. Marc would be doomed, and Vale would have to hear it. 

As if it’s reading his mind, there’s a wail outside. It’s so brutal and loud that Vale squeezes his eyes shut. Pecco’s leg twitches beside him. Another wail follows, and Vale is on his feet before he can really think about it. He paces away from the group, running a hand through his hair. 

His hair, thinning now from age and years of being tugged at by helmets. It’s hard not to think about his age at times like these, when he feels so tired and weathered. He wonders if Marc is starting to feel his age. It’s been so many years since he spoke to him, and the few times he’s been able to bear looking at his face he knows Marc has gotten older. His cheekbones are more defined, and his mouth is framed in laugh lines. His laugh– one of Vale’s favorite things. 

The voice, Marc’s voice, screams outside.

“Please, Vale, let me in. I’m so sorry; I’ll apologize! Just let me in.”

The void creature knows just what buttons to press to mimic Marc in the most painful way. Vale presses his palms to his eyes. 

He knows it’s not Marc. He knows it’s not the younger man, the man who Vale raced against and shared podiums with. There’s no human on the other side of that door.

Suddenly an arm yanks him backward, and a hand covers his mouth to muffle his surprised noise. His eyes snap open and he sees that he’s somehow made it downstairs. He’s within arms reach of the door and its metal security panel. 

Uccio’s hands are a vice grip around him, holding him back. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses in his ear. 

Vale’s mouth opens as if to respond, but he has nothing to say. He has no explanation for his intense lapse in judgment, or even how he made it down the stairs in the first place. 

“Vale, please,” the thing outside begs. 

Uccio doesn’t let go of him, just guides him back up the stairs. The boys on the couches look terrified now, and Vale doesn’t have the words to apologize. This time Uccio deposits him on the couch next to him, keeping a solid arm around his shoulders. Vale puts his head in his hands but doesn’t close his eyes, suddenly afraid of what will happen. 

He misses Marc. He wanted to let that thing in because it sounded like Marc. Vale is overcome with the thought that he has to talk to the younger man; he has to reconcile, or apologize, or something. He just can’t possibly go the rest of his life feeling like this thing between them is so unsettled. He needs closure.

He thinks about what that looks like, turning scenarios over in his head until the arm is lifted from around his shoulder and their phones chime with the alert system telling them that the creature is gone. 

This time Vale stays put as Max and Uccio take over raising the shades and opening the house again. He doesn’t react as Pecco and Bez playfully argue and throw shutters open, giddy and relieved to be safe. Celestino is immediately loud and talkative, making up for the time spent forced into silence. 

Vale should be joining them, celebrating their safety. He can’t get up, though, because of the lead weight of regret that has taken home in his stomach. He has to talk to Marc. 

[hawkinsbnbg]

Kas left the Upside Down to find his mate.

omega verse, monsterfucker Steve, bitching, dub-con (non-con if you squint), mind-manipulation, HE

Eddie Munson was reborn in the Upside Down as Kas. He still had his old memories, wills, and affections. He knew he had fantasized about Steve Harrington during his short mortal life.

After sitting back and watching Eddie’s recollection of the younger boy, Kas decided that Steve—strong, brave, and pretty—would make a great mate and even greater mother of his pups.

Did it matter that Steve was an alpha? No.

Kas’ only concern at hand was to make sure that his intended would be well-bred and well-fed no matter what happened in the future.

And if it involved laying low in Steve’s house until the boy smelled ripe and ready, then Kas had all the patience in the world to spare.

Steve had been searching for someone to spend his rut with these past few weeks. He didn't want to given what the town had just been through. But it had become more painful recently when he tried to go through it alone.

And yet, all he had was an undead Eddie Munson—now a bloodthirsty monster—in his basement.

Sure, it kept making feral noises and eyeing him like a piece of meat, but Steve wasn’t intimidated. He had been through too much to be fazed by a simple-minded creature who wore his crush’s face.

Yeah, the irony of speed-running his bisexual awakening and crisis in the middle of a life-and-death marathon hadn't been lost on him.

He didn't care that Eddie was also an alpha. He was going to court the shit out of the guy anyway. If only Eddie was still alive, they could’ve both figured something out. Like bitching Steve so they could mate and have their six little nuggets together.

Instead, Eddie decided to go and sacrifice himself, then had the audacity to come back wrong and break into Steve’s room at three am.

Maybe he should’ve felt grateful that this monster didn't cause him harm, that it had followed him down the basement and stayed there when he asked nicely enough.

(In hindsight, he should’ve called Code Red the moment he found it. But his selfishness had won over his self-preservation.)

Although Steve was still pissed, he couldn't help but visit this warped version of Eddie every day and hoped beyond hope that miracles would happen and give him back the boy he had fallen for.

As days went by with barely any positive developments, Steve eventually caved and decided to contact Hopper to ask for El's help.

But then his rut arrived and Eddie—

“Kas,” the monster growled, nipping his neck and pounding into him without mercy. “Not Eddie.”

—had jumped him as he was trying to see through his agonizing arousal alone in his bed.

It had hurt at first, the way Kas had ripped into him while ignoring his cries and struggles of protest, but after two?—Steve had lost count of how many times he had been knotted and bred—he started begging for the other man’s cock like a bitch in heat.

Which was terrifying and confusing. Because he was an alpha. Why did it feel good to be knotted all of a sudden? Why would his instinct tell him to present for his alpha? Why did he think about Kas as mate?

Something had changed when Kas bit him, he realized dimly.

Of course, Kas had been going at it for god-knows-how-long. If Steve was still an alpha, his hole wouldn't have been able to fit that ridiculously big knot, and he would’ve died by now from the internal bleeding alone.

He looked at the man-made monster above him. Still those big eyes, still those plump lips, and still those dark curls. But now those eyes were blood red, those lips were torn with sharp teeth, and those curls had grown thicker and longer.

A ghost of a man he used to know. A monster that he was forced to welcome into his life.

And somehow, Steve was only saddened by the fact that he was claimed by his alpha in such a brutal way. So different from the romantic dream he had planned for the most significant moment of his life.

A small part of Steve was wondering why he was so calm about all of this, screaming at him to fight back, to try his damn best to escape this nightmare.

But his subconscious terror was quieted and put back to sleep by the bloody scent emitted from Kas, telling him he had nothing to worry about, that he was as safe as could be, that he should let his alpha take care of him.

“Mine,” Kas snarled as he gave a few stuttering thrusts and pumped Steve full again, bullying his knot into Steve’s tight cunt—sore and sloppy by the breeding that seemed to last forever.

Steve keened and quivered as intense pleasure crashed over him, leaving him drooling and cross-eyed. For a while, he just laid there on his ruined sheets, boneless and spread out beneath the voracious beast like a sacrifice.

As Kas began moving again, Steve finally let loose those chirps and trills, pleased that his alpha loved him enough to fill him up with those precious seeds and gifted him with their pups.

Steve felt good, the kind that made his brain melt and stream out of his skull through his nose and ears. He didn't think, couldn't think. Each thrust—deep and powerful—got him shaking like a leaf, punched out every breathless noise from him, and rendered him delirious.

“M’yours,” Steve mewled and wrapped his arms around Kas’ neck, gazing into those intoxicating eyes lovingly. “Alpha.”

Kas grunted, movements turning frenzied while a familiar expression flashed across those handsome but contorted features. And then, he saw Kas smile for the first time, wild and roguish.

“Aren’t you a pretty thing, Sweetheart?”

Five months later…

“Still nothing?”

El opened her eyes, nose bleeding and brow pinching. She looked at Dustin and then shook her head.

Nothing.

Robin was the one to burst into tears first, Erica was next while clinging to Max who struggled to keep her tears at bay. Lucas, Will, and Mike cried silently, while Nancy, Jonathan, Hopper, and Joyce looked downright defeated.

Only Dustin still refused to give in to his sorrow.

They all held onto the sliver of hope that Steve was alive somewhere out there. But even so, five months of searching blindly for Steve had taken its toll on them.

Despite that, none of them were planning to stop any time soon. They didn't go through literal hell to save the world just to lose one of their own.

“I won’t believe he had died until I saw it myself,” Robin sniffled but the steely determination in her eyes beat anyone’s faith here.

“I concurred,” Dustin nodded, eyes bloodshot and shoulders heavy with grief but still stubborn to the core.

Slowly, everyone recovered from their despair and exchanged resolute looks with each other.

One last time, El could read as much from Hopper’s tired gaze. She knew he was right. She had hit her limit on the last two attempts, but she still kept going on, fearing that she would abandon Steve to the den of monsters if she gave up now.

With the blindfold over her eyes and the TV static reverberating in her ears, she took a deep breath and released it slowly. She told herself she could do this as she stepped into the Void once more. It was pitch black until she saw a flicker of light before her entire vision was covered in red.

She didn't panic, but her heart thumped loudly in her chest, threatening to tear her ribcage open to leave and find Steve on its own.

Thankfully, she wasn't left waiting for too long. Her sight was cleared again and there, standing outside Hopper’s cabin was a healthy and heavily pregnant Steve, glowing with joy and happiness.

She only let out a startled noise when she caught sight of his companion. Or precisely speaking, his mate had informed her about himself. She suspected that this man was also the one who had covered her vision in red just moments ago.

“They’re here,” she threw her blindfold away and sprang up to her feet.

“Who?” Nancy was the one asking, sounding both hopeful and weary.

“Steve and his mate,” she wiped the blood under her nose absentmindedly as she sprinted toward the door.

When El threw it open, she heard someone gasp behind her.

“Is that Eddie fucking Munson?”

Said man raised his hand with a friendly smile that showed his too-sharp canines, “Long time no see, everyone.”

As her surroundings erupted with cheerful and confused noises, she gave Eddie a quick inspection for safety caution and blinked in surprise at what she found.

Oddly enough, the creature seemed unbothered by that and just winked at her impishly.

Then, she glanced at Steve who was smiling brightly while bombarded with question after question, smelling of ripe cherry and nectarine. If she concentrated a bit harder, she could pick up the vague scent of blood—sweet and tasted like copper.

El tilted her head.

Should she tell Steve that his mate might not be very human?

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Shared Stock.

Pairing: Yandere!Cowboy!OC x Reader x Yandere!Farmer!OC.

Word Count: < 1.0k.

TW: Explicit Cowboy Self-Indulgence, Implied Non//con, Prolonged Imprisonment, and Gun Violence.

Mercy thinks Wren is too careful.

She says he treats you too much like a porcelain doll, not enough like the little spitfire she claims to know you are. She'll scoff when you tell her about his paranoia, roll her eyes when she sees you dressed in his aprons and flannel over-shirts, insist that you're tough enough to handle a few weeks on the open road - even if she never lets you out of her sight, much less far enough from her side to stray into any proper danger. She could spend hours admonishing the way Wren fusses over every scrape and scratch, but in all honesty, she's more selfish than trusting, willing to make-believe that you'd do better on horseback than tucked away in some ramshackle farmhouse if it means she gets to take you with her when she leaves town, on her way to some unnamed city on the edge of the world with only a herd of cattle and her crew. She doesn't think you'd stand a chance on your own, not in earnest, but she's far too possessive not to make your life as difficult as hers.

She's far too possessive in general, really. You know better than to say as much aloud (you can still remember the taste of her pistol against your tongue, still hear the sound of her voice as asked if you wanted to call her 'jealous' again), but there's a reason you're not allowed to talk to any of the other wranglers, that she always makes such a show out of splitting you open on her tongue behind the paper-thin scraps of material she calls a tent. One to spend every coin she earns and drain every bottle she comes across, Mercy's not the kind of woman who stand not to use what she has, and she does what she can to wear you down to the bone. Whether that means one of her fraying ropes is rubbing the skin of your wrists raw because 'you look like you've gotten it into your pretty little head to do somethin' stupid again' or you're sobbing you're eyes out because a man from her crew scowled at you the wrong way and, well, Mercy's always been faster to draw her gun than second-guess her own assumptions, she always finds a way to bleed you dry. She could afford to be a little more careful with you, all in all.

Wren thinks Mercy is too rough.

He's not as blatant about it as she is, but you see the way he frowns when she brings you back from a cattle drive covered in dust and cuts and bruise, and you know that, if Wren had his way, you'd spend all day baking apple pies and all night wrapped in handstitched quilts and never so much as cross paths with anything or anyone who might do you harm. There's no rope, when you're with him, no guns when you manage to forget about the shotgun he keeps in the shed behind the farmhouse - just locks on the doors and a few idle warnings that the townsfolk in these parts don't take kindly to troublemakers. When you try to tell him that he and his friends are the ones causing trouble for you, he just frowns and tells you to mind your tongue. You're something to keep safe and stowed away, to Wren, just like you're something to own and flaunt to Mercy. People don't tend to bother arguing with the precious gems they've already decided to hoard.

He doesn't bother talking to you much at all, as welcome as his silence usually is. That might be the worst thing about the farmhouse - how claustrophobic those wooden walls can feel before he comes home and drags you into a hour-long bath, just how suffocating the soundlessness can be and just how much worse it can get when you know you're relying on that monster of a man to break it. For everything you hate about Mercy, you're never bored when you're with her. You're never bored when you're with Wren, either, but Wren's not around very often. The fields have to be tended to, and Wren will barely let you hold a pairing knife, much less a spade. Wren doesn't give you as much to cry about as Mercy does, but sometimes, you almost wish he would. At least then, you'd have something to do.

You've tried to tell them that, if they both think the other's going to be the death of you, they could always let you go, set you free, drop you off on the outskirts of the nearest town with a sturdy pair of boots and enough cash to catch the next train to a more hospitable part of the country, but neither of them have ever taken kindly to your advice. That might be the only thing they have in common - how adamantly they refuse to let you wander farther than the horizon line, how ferociously they respond to any suggestion of a reality where you don't belong to one of them. That might be the only thing they agree on.

Neither of them likes the way the other treats you, but both Wren and Mercy know you wouldn't last a second on your own.

[dairy-farmer]

Unknowingly A Meta AU? owo ? Tim with a Dream Manipulation power he doesn't know he has? Because it can effect HIS dreams. And no one ever mentions it.

His parents? Wearing all sorts of gifts and old jewelry from various sites. They are gucci. Completely untouchable. So the few times Baby Tim DOES show up in there dreams as a kid, when they are in house, they write off as "weird but pleasant".

After all? Who doesn't like to dream about playing with your kid? Going to a fantastical theme park or something? Having a family picnic? It's JUST a nice dream, right?

But! Not everyone has such protections.

And Baby Tim? Gets fixated. Curious. Falls asleep wanting to KNOW. Perhaps, thinking about one member of the Wayne family or another. And since his range is growing? Wayne Manor is juuuuust close enough. Barely, at first. Then easily.

And it's innocent at first. Of course it is. He's just a small child, full of questions. Was Mr. Batman like him as a child? Where did Mr. Pennyworth come from? What was living in the circus like? And so? They dream.

Bruce, playing with a child his age, on the lawn as his parents watch on fondly. Alfred, back too his youth, full of mischief as he runs the streets of his little English town along side friends long dead. Made young once more. Dick, laughing, underfoot, as he and his new friend run roughshod all across the setup site. His parents fond but exasperated.

Such meaningful dreams.

Private, though.

No need to mention them. Or realize the whole household is getting such dreams all at the same time.

And the dreams persist. Tim forever having questions. Or just wondering. Not thinking much on WHY he seems to have such vivid dreams. He's always had them. Surely everyone does. Storybooks certainly seem to suggest that.

Dick leaves. Jason comes.

Dick notices he's started having... nightmares. Chaotic, dark, brooding dreams. Of failure and lose. He doesn't connect things... yet.

Jason doesn't fuckin TRUST these happy clappy, golden sunshine n puppies dreams. The fuck is this? The fuck are YOU? Tim doesn't see a reason to lie. It's just a dream, right?

Uh huh.

Riiiight. Say, Timbits, you ever been tested for that Meta gene thingy? Asks Jason, who has clocked what's happening here, basically night one.

No, why? Asks the clueless neighbor kid.

Before Jason can think of a... polite...ish... way to call him thick and his parents dense as bricks, he wakes up. Gets to spend the whole day looking into the Drake's. Finds out the kid is basicly isolated in that great big house of his. Decides he's... NOT gonna be saying anything.

Welcome to dream land, you little weirdo. Just don't scramble his brains or touch stuff he says not too.

Then? Dick visits. Tim is thrilled. And Dick? Gets his first GOOD dream in weeks. No "what if's", no haunting seconds too late, just? Good moments. Everything languid and lit by golden light. Untouchable.

Perfect.

Him and Kori, between missions, exploring each other. Everything pleasure and light. Grinding. Gasping. Groaning in pleasure as they found just the right angle, sweat catching the light like diamonds. She was beautiful. HE never felt more desirable.

But something niggles in his brain. A sense of being watched, that hadn't been there then. Fascinated little eyes. Blue. Not Jason. Poorly hidden in the corner of the room. He... he should be alarmed. Focus. This isn't for little eyes. Should kick him out. But Kori's here. And everything is soft and so GOOD. He keeps getting lost in that instead.

Is aware, so aware, of little eyes that trail his body like eager hands.

It shouldn't make everything better.

But it does.

And NOW? Now Tim has NEW questions. As puberty closes in fast and without mercy.

And Bruce's dreams certainly have answers. His every desire and fantasy laid bare. Past loves, current lovers, fantasies about coworkers. Being watched. A curiosity. An amusement, perhaps? His brain struggles to pull free of the pleasure and focus.

But eventually, his iron will allows it. He HAS trained for this, after all.

He gets the jump on the... imp? Fae? Youthful looking creature. But touching them just pulls him back under. So he kisses them instead. Strips them. Hands finding places that make them squirm. He's not sure HOW he finds himself fucking them, but he never wants to stop.

And after that? Neither does Tim. He'd never imagined THAT was an option! It felt AMAZING. Which leads to all manner of wet dreams. For every Heroic guest Bruce has. During the day? Prim and proper, everything above board. But in SLEEP? They are pounding their new brother/son incoherent.

Just? Imagine them trying to trigger wet dreams? Trying to get attention in the evenings, so he'll think about THEM before bed. Pouting when their dreams were pleasant nothing instead of Tim Time. The guilty PANIC of guests who TOTALLY boned Timmy drooling and fucked stupid in the Dream Space, now having to sit across Batman, and pretend they didn't do that. Not realizing he totally let them.

Can't get caught, if it's not physical! Dream Sex!

-🐼🐼🐼

and they're completely guilt free because its a dream😌😌😌

[winterlynightlystories]

Welcome to Hawkins

Tw; swearing, mention of child abuse, mention of injuries.

To not steal my work, thank you!

Billy Hargrove/Male reader (he/him)

Summary; you find Billy on the side of the road, bloody and angry. The worse part? You are not alone in the dark.

~~~

Hawkins was a weird place. Even before the Byers boy went missing, the town faced strange things. Electrical anomalies, weird sightings in the forest and sometimes animals would meet a gruesome end. By now you were used to it.

Until the Hargrove came to town.

Hawkins was a small place where everybody knew everyone. There was no secret, not even inside your home. Even if you went in the middle of the wood, by morning the whole town would be aware of what you did. So it was no surprise they were met with mistrust.

Because it only took one look for everyone to agree; there was something wrong with them all. Especially with the father, you thought. With the way, he spoke to his son and how Billy would sometime flinch when his father moved his hands. It was obvious that something was going on.

And then they all met Billy Hargrove at school. Violent, racist, and always ready to fight. He tried so hard to be the king of the school, it was almost pathetic. But he was good to party with, you heard.

For your part, you disliked him. Billy and you would always fight; in the corridors, after school or even during sports class. Sometimes he would win, but most of the time? You would show no mercy and beat the shit out of him.

You weren't violent, some would even call you peaceful. But peaceful doesn't mean harmless and you refused to let Billy Hargrove do as he pleased.

You also pitied him.

No one was blind to the bruised he would try to play off as accidents or results of fights that never happened. Or how he would flinch, even so slightly when someone accidentally slammed a door or dropped something heavy. Or the fear his eyes would hold for a second when someone would throw a ball of paper and it would pass close to his head.

It broke your heart.

And there was nothing you could do.

That night as you drove, the forest on each side of the road, you kept thinking about the Hargrove boy. You wondered what kind of person he really was underneath all those masks he wore to protect himself.

Halfway through the forest, something caught your attention. At first, you thought it was a dead animal, maybe a deer. But then, it moved.

- “Shit!” you cursed, hitting the brake. “Hargrove? What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked, getting out of your car.

Because sitting on the side of the road was the one and only Billy Hargrove. Hair messy and bloody lips, Billy seemed to come out of a fight as the loser. But something was terribly wrong; his eyes were red and puffy and wet as if he has cried.

- “Fuck off man.” Billy snapped, looking away.

- “Seriously?” you sighed “C’mon city boy, I'm driving you home.” you added, eyes turning to the forest.

- “I said, fuck off! Or are you deaf?” replied Hargrove, making you grunt.

- “Oh, shut up. You think I'm leaving you here to be eaten by a bear?”

- “There aren't any bears in Hawkins.” objected Billy, scuffing.

- “Ah yes! I forgot it was my imaginary friend Steve who killed those animals!” you replied sarcastically. “Now you either get in the car by yourself like the good boy you are, or I'll get you in.”

- “Fuck. You.” slowly said Billy, smiling. “Anyway, why do you care so much? We are not friends or anything.”

- “Because there is no way I am leaving you here in the middle of the night!” you snapped, approaching him.

- “Wait, wait, wait! Don't tell me you are scared?” mocked Billy. “Seriously? Scared of the dark, Y/n?”

- “No, not the dark, but of what's hiding in it,” you said, seriously, stopping in front of Billy.

Billy was about to reply something when you heard the eeriest scream coming from the forest. You both froze, staring into the darkness. There was no sound, not even a cricket, or wind. It felt just wrong. Like a second before the disaster. And you felt watched like a prey being stalked.

- “Hargrove, get in the car.” you said, voice shaking as you saw a large shadow move between the tree. “NOW!”

You grabbed him by the collar and turned on your heels. Without another word, you two ran as another scream came from the forest, closer this time.

You barely closed the door before turning the engine on and driving away as fast as you could.

- “What the fuck was that?” asked Billy, looking behind. “That wasn't a bear!”

- “I don't know! I don't fucking know, man!” you replied, still freaking out. “It was too skinny to be a bear. Maybe a sick deer.”

- “Bitch, are you serious? Deer don't stand on their back legs!”

You didn't have the time to reply to anything, spotting the shadow on your left. In the dark, you could not really distinguish anything, but you could swear it was now running on four.

- “I don't want to sound dramatic, but I think it's following us.” you said.

- “How...”

Billy never finished his sentence. Instead, you both screamed when a tall shadow jumped in front of the car as you hit the brakes.

Standing on its back legs, the creature had smooth skin, almost like an eel” you thought. But darker. Like charcoal or shadows. And its head was like a flower.

You almost screamed again, feeling Billy gripping your arms and digging his nails into your skin.

- “What the fuck. Man, what the fuck is that?” he asked, his voice a mumbling mess.

- “Don't ask me! I don't know!” you whined, hands shaking on the wheel. “Man, I can't do a U-turn and there is no way I can drive in reverse in the dark.”

- “Then just run over it! Do something!”

And you did just that.

Pushing your car as fast as it could toward the creature. Maybe it knew what you were trying to do, or maybe it got scared, but seconds before the impact, the creature jumped out of your way. You sighed in relief but didn't slow down.

You heard Billy’s breath slow down before you felt his forehead on your shoulder. If he was crying, you saw nothing, because God be your witness, you were too. Not letting go of your arm, Billy actually tightened his grip.

- “Tell me it's gone. Please tell me it's gone.” he begged with a small voice.

- “Yeah, I don't see it anymore,” you replied.

- “I don't think I can go party anymore.”,” said Billy.

- “Yeah. Welcome to Hawkins.” you scoffed. “So, mind guiding me to your place?”

- “I'll rather not” he whispered.

- “Mind if I take you to mine then? I'll give you some of my shit and will take care of those bruised. I know where my parents hid their alcohol. God, I need a drink!”

- “As long as you share that drink, that sounds good to me. But I'm taking the bed!”

- “Fine princess!”

Billy said nothing and you relaxed. Heart still racing in your chest, you wondered of it was that thing who was responsible for the latest slaughter in the nearby farms. Or killed those missing outsiders. A part of you also knew you needed to call the sheriff, but the other knew it was useless. No one would believe you and you didn't want to put Billy in more danger.

So to your home, it was.

[aegon-targaryen]

Ghosts That We Knew

Zelink Week Day 2: Fading | TP Zelink | read on AO3) | @zelinkcommunity

Link dreamed of a golden wolf.

He bounded through a forest of mist, weaving through the towering trees that stood guard over this ancient place. Link’s paws kicked up leaves as he raced to catch up. Snatches of sound caught his attention from time to time—music, voices, a child’s giggle—but he kept to his course.

Yet the bright coat of his quarry disappeared from view, and when he slowed to a halt, he found himself in a clearing he would recognize anywhere. A sword waited at its center. He was padding forward to answer its call when the golden wolf emerged from the fog, his single eye glowing with crimson sorrow.

Turn back, he said with all the terrible gravity of time. Go and do not falter, my child.

Link sat up sharply, grasping his surroundings with the speed of someone shaped by deadly times: Ordon, safety, a sword within reach, Zelda in his bed.

Zelda in his bed. A foolish grin tugged at his lips. They’d spent plenty of nights together in the castle, but something about having her here was so enthralling. She was stirring now, rolling over to face him, and he tried to wipe the stupid look off his face.

“Link?” she mumbled sleepily. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Just a weird dream,” he assured her, laying back down under the dark oaken ceiling of his treehouse. Dawn and the journey back to Castle Town were still a few hours away. As always, a part of him longed to stay, but at least he would take with him the memory of Zelda dancing under the harvest festival lanterns, of Ordon welcoming her the same way they’d welcomed Link when he was only a lost little boy.

“I had one too,” Zelda said. “The scribe’s meeting minutes transformed into a Chu that terrorized my Council.”

He laughed. “You would dream about meeting minutes.”

“Now tell me about yours. It’s only fair.”

Go and do not falter, my child. Those words had been with Link when he dealt Ganondorf the ending blow, the final mercy, just like he’d been taught. “Well…did I ever tell you about the Hero’s Shade?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“He was a spirit, I guess. Sometimes a wolf, sometimes a skeleton in armor. He brought me into some…other realm and taught me some of his techniques.”

“The Hero’s Shade,” Zelda mused. “He called himself that?”

Link frowned, trying to remember. “I’m not sure. But it felt right to me.”

She was quiet for some time, though he could practically hear the gears of her mind turning. Eventually she reached through the darkness to touch his cheek and said, “Can you go back to sleep? Or shall we take a walk?”

Wide awake now, he followed her outside, where the harvest moon bathed the sleeping village in its silver glow. Other than the crickets singing in the tall grass, Ordon was quiet in a way Castle Town never was. Link loved his tiny room above Telma’s bar and his work in the Resistance; he’d even grown to love Hyrule Castle, because Zelda was there. But coming home was always like drawing his first breath after days underwater.

They passed by their sleeping horses and continued on to the Light Spirit’s spring. This place always felt different at night, cast in a strange glow unlike either the sun’s heat or the moon’s gleam. Zelda’s boots sank into the white sand as she wandered along the water’s edge.

“I know you don’t like to be called Hero,” she said quietly. “But—you are aware there was one before you?”

“Yeah.” Link had worn his tunic, carried his weapons, walked in his footsteps. “I figured the Shade had something to do with him.”

“He lived hundreds of years ago, but perhaps some part of him…lingered, as ghosts sometimes do.”

He’d seen plenty of ghosts as a wolf, but only one had spoken to him. Without asking a single question, the Shade understood who Link was and what he needed to learn. He’d understood the enemy, too. “He faced Ganondorf, didn’t he? Before the Sages sent him to the Twilight Realm?”

“Yes. The hero’s story is largely forgotten across Hyrule, but he was close with an ancestor of mine. She kept a journal, if you’d like to know more.”

Link couldn’t help but remember the curse Ganondorf had uttered with his last breath: The history of light and shadow will be written in blood. There had been so much weight to those words, a sense of that history reaching back further than Link could conceive, a sense that it would continue long past his lifetime.

The full force of it felt suddenly awful here in this spring, where fate had come roaring out of the forest to claim him last year, where he’d returned as a wolf and killed his first shadow beast in the same spot where Ilia used to bathe Epona. His predecessor had been hurt in the same way. All that sorrow had been evident in his rusted armor, his heavy sword, his single crimson eye.

Yet he hadn’t been alone. Link looked at Zelda and remembered hearing her name in passing as a child, thinking to himself: I know her. Remembered meeting her eyes in that tower, feeling like the sun had broken through stifling twilight to clear away any doubt: I know her.

“There was another you,” he breathed. “And there was another me.”

Her brow creased thoughtfully, such a familiar expression that his heart twisted in his chest. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but…yes.”

“It happened before. Will it happen again?”

Zelda drew closer, glowing like magic in the spring’s unearthly light, her dark hair spilling loose over her white nightgown. She touched the scar on Link’s cheek and said softly, “Not for a long time, I hope. But if it does, we will face it together.”

.

.

.

After breakfast came the hardest part of home: saying goodbye. While Uli stuffed Link’s saddlebags with as many snacks as possible, Beth tried to convince Zelda to bring her back to the castle and make her a princess. Rusl lost the battle with his wriggling toddler and handed her to Link, who was happy to bounce her up and down on his hip until she settled.

“She likes you more than me,” Rusl grumbled.

“Hey,” Link said, tapping the Triforce on the back of his left hand. “I already had this when you found me in Faron, right?”

Rusl raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Are you wondering about your birth parents?”

“It’s all right if you are,” Uli said, pausing her struggle with the saddlebags. “I only wish we were able to find you some answers.”

Link was wondering more about the wheels of time, the Goddesses who spun them, and an ancient ghost who called him my child. “No,” he answered, ruffling his little sister’s hair before he handed her back to Rusl. “You gave me everything I needed.”

Uli inspected his face with a smile, then turned to hug Zelda, who accepted the embrace with her slow smile—the kind that bloomed so uncertainly across her face, as though she was afraid someone would come and take it away. But she held onto it this time, beaming at Link over Uli’s shoulder, and the sight made him happy enough to lessen the pain of leaving.

.

.

.

Tucked away in a forgotten corner of Hyrule Castle was a graveyard accessible only to those who knew its secrets—at least, that was what Zelda said as she waved the illusory entrance away. It felt like stepping into a different realm blanketed by silence and thick grey mist, where there had just been sunlight and clear skies on the other side of the wall.

Since the Twilight, the crooked headstones had been straightened and the rubble cleared away. The thought of her coming here alone to weave her magic through her family’s resting place made Link proud and sad in equal measure.

“I’ve…actually been here,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was looking for a key to get me inside the castle, so…I burrowed under the wall. Sorry.”

Zelda’s mouth twitched. “Don’t be. My mother, at least, would have found that amusing.”

She halted under an enormous oak tree, its branches reaching far enough to brush the courtyard’s stone walls. Link still remembered the words inscribed on the tombstone, because they’d itched at the back of his mind on his first visit: The cursed swordsman sleeps beneath the sacred tree.

“He’s buried here?”

“I don’t believe so,” Zelda replied, pulling a weathered book from the pocket of her cloak and flipping through until she found a certain page and handed it over. “This is what my ancestor wrote.”

All they found were broken pieces of his armor, the journal said. People keep telling me he could have survived. But I am old enough to prefer hard truths over false hope. He’s gone. I know it in my soul. 

Tears sprang to Link’s eyes. “Where did he die, then?”

Far away, said a voice that creaked like the branches of the old oak, and they turned to find the golden wolf behind them, his image blurring and reforming into the spectral skeleton who had trained Link. Too far.

“It’s you,” Zelda breathed.

The Shade’s gaze snagged on her face as she drew closer, and he went still, his sword hanging loosely from his ruined fingers. His translucent form pulsed in and out of being with every breath. Princess, he said in a faint whisper.

Zelda had been queen for some time now, but she just smiled at him sadly. “Have you been here all this time?”

His red eye shifted to Link. I returned when the beast did. It should never have fallen on anyone else.

“No, that’s…” Link’s throat was tightening. When Zelda touched his arm, he swallowed hard and continued. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You made me strong enough to win.”

And now you have won. Stay the course. Leave the sword where it lies. Do not falter as I did.

“I—I never do, thanks to you.”

Stay with her, the Shade insisted. Treasure her. Be there long enough to say goodbye.

Zelda raised her head suddenly, digging around in her cloak pocket. Link only caught a brief glimpse of what she produced—a painted miniature of a golden-haired woman—before the Shade choked out a sound that was undoubtedly, devastatingly human.

“She treasured you too,” Zelda promised. “She felt you go, and knew it wasn’t your fault. She…she wrote…” Her free hand brushed Link’s, tilting the journal towards her so she could read aloud. “I buried those pieces of armor in a garden we both loved. The cursed swordsman and all the weight he carried will rest here. But the rest of him is free. I can feel him in the earth, in the wind’s song, in the beat of my heart.”

“She was right,” Link realized. “You’re what he left behind. But the beast is dead, and we’re—we’re going to be okay. You can rest now. Is that why you’re here? Because you’re ready to rest?”

The Shade stared at him in wordless disbelief.

Zelda wiped her eyes and kept reading. “Neither of us were strangers to regret—how could it be otherwise with the lives we’ve led? But we had so much sweetness, too. It was worth the sorrow. I hope he remembered that at the end.”

I did, the Shade whispered. Of course I did.

“She would want you to find peace,” Zelda told him gently.

She…she would. Yes. I believe it’s time.

His form was blurring around the edges. Link blinked hard, finally allowing his tears to fall, and searched himself for the right words to give the spirit of his predecessor, who had fought so hard and lost so much, who had returned to help him take down their common enemy.

In the end, all he could say was, “Thank you.”

The Shade looked down at the portrait, then at Link and Zelda, huddled together in the graveyard with tears in their eyes. Write a happier story, he told them as he faded slowly into the mist, replaced by a golden wolf that bounded towards freedom.

Wind gusted through the courtyard, so sudden and so strong that Link wrapped his arms around Zelda to keep them both anchored to the earth. When he raised his head, the tears had dried on his cheeks, and the Hero’s Shade was gone.

Zelda brought the portrait closer, turning it around to study the golden-haired woman. Though the only crown she wore was a simple circlet of rubies, there was something in her proud shoulders that made it clear she was a queen. Her forehead was creased with worry lines, but her smile was bright, and her eyes…

Link took Zelda’s face in his scarred hands, meeting her gaze: the color of an early morning sky, after the dawn dwindles and a new day begins. No wonder he’d known her so instantly, so naturally. And that was before he understood what it was like to love her, to be graced with the trust she found so hard to bestow, to unravel the parts of himself only she could understand.

Maybe she was thinking the same thing, for she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his cheek.

“I wouldn’t choose anything else,” Link breathed when he finally found his voice. “I—no matter what happened before, or what happens next…”

“I wouldn’t either.” Zelda held the portrait close to her heart, and though her eyes were her ancestor’s, that small, precious smile he’d first fallen in love with was all her own. “She was right. It was worth the sorrow.”

.

.

.

[andreafmn]

Bound | Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.9K Warnings: implied/referenced SA, trauma, trauma responses, mentions of death, torture, mentions of DV

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: So, I noticed that the time span of Rosalie's kills take around a year according to Midnight Sun (which I have yet to read) which is why the timeline won't match up very well, but I think it still works... maybe... hopefully. Sorry it took so long to update this story, I honestly did not have time to keep writing it for a bit. This was meant to come out yesterday but I fell asleep 🫣🫣 Also, to any and all survivors of SA that you are not alone and what happened to you is not your fault, it never will be. I hope you have healed or are healing. And if you ever just need an ear to listen, I am here. 🤍

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Three months had passed since the night that changed Rosalie’s life for eternity, and the Hubert brothers had been found dead. Two, since Ulysses Levitt ran out of town with a girl his family would have never approved, and the body of John Harris was found in his hotel room, asphyxiated and with a broken neck. 

Word had spread through the town of a killer that was taking the lives of prominent young figures. They had ransacked through two families already, and it was rumored they had taken the Levitt son hostage, regardless of the letter left. It made families hold their young ones closer to them, hypervigilant of their every move.  No one wanted their child to be next. No one wanted to weep for their child. Not even for them to go missing. 

Because none of them knew that they had nothing to worry about. 

Well, other than the King family. The royal family of Rochester, New York, would suffer a great loss that night at the hands of who would have been their greatest acquisition. She would take his life into her hands the way he had done with hers. He would clamor for mercy, beg for forgiveness, plead for another chance. And she would laugh in his face. 

There weren’t many places Royce could hide in that Rosalie would not have found him. He could have hidden a thousand feet underground, and she would have carved at the ground with her own hands until she got to him. He would not get away from her without paying for what he had done. She was judge, jury, and executioner, and she would make sure his sentence was fulfilled. 

In the Cullen residence, the other three vampires walked on eggshells around Rosalie. The anger that radiated from the girl was hot enough that any closeness could leave them burned. Even if their words and worries came from a place of concern –at least from Carlisle and Esme– she did not want to hear them. All she had time for was her revenge. There was nothing else she had to look forward to. 

She didn’t want to be angry. It was an all-consuming emotion that she did not wish to impart on the family that had “rescued” her.

“Good morning, Rosalie,” Esme called the girl’s attention as she readied herself for the day. “How are you feeling today?”

“As well as I can be while my rapist’s heart still beats,” she shrugged, brushing the golden curls in her hair. “Apart from that, I guess not worse than I felt yesterday.”

“That’s good, I think,” the woman offered a smile. “Hopefully tomorrow is better.” 

“Oh, it will be. Once Royce gets what’s coming for him, the universe will balance itself out. After that… well, we’ll see when we get there.” 

Esme remained quiet for a moment, weighing whether or not her words were welcomed in the blonde’s space. The last thing the woman wanted was to make something snap inside the girl. She was already fragile as it was, even if she wouldn’t allow herself to be, and Esme didn’t want to be the drop of water that made her cup overflow. “May I offer you some words?” she asked against her better judgment.

“If you’re trying to get me to see how wrong it is to take a life, please save your breath,” she responded, holding in her laughter at the irony of her sentence. “Carlisle and Edward have tried, and I can tell you there is nothing you can say that will make me desist from my plan.” 

“Well,” Esme sighed with a smile on her face. “Then, can I tell you about my story? I can’t say that I lived through the horrors of what you did, but I did have my own monster.” The blonde simply nodded in approval, her attention fully on the woman before her. “I didn’t envision my life turning out this way, much like you. When I was younger, I dreamed of being a school teacher. I wanted to mold the minds of my students and help them navigate this crazy world. But my parents wanted me to be the perfect wife. They wanted me to stay home and marry. And I did. I thought then that my life would be better. That’s what my parents had promised, so that’s what I believed. 

“Yet, the man that I married became the monster in the fairytale my parents had designed. He was abusive. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He made me feel like I had no escape. And my parents perpetuated that behavior. They told me to keep it quiet. That no one in town would ever believe that he could do anything like that,” the woman continued. Rosalie could tell how difficult it was to tell her story. She could see the fear flashing in her eyes and the tremble in her hands as she felt the ghosts of her past creeping up her neck. And she wondered if that was the way she would look. Regardless of her impenetrable body, anyone would be able to see the pain plastered on her face. “There was some solace when the Great War passed. He was drafted, and I had months of peace. I learned that you don’t know how deep in the chaos you have gotten until you see a way out. Deep down, I hoped he never returned. It was easier to be a widow than to live the rest of my life in fear.

“But, much to my dismay, he came back once the war had ended. I knew my sentence was until death did us part. Until I became pregnant a few months after his return, and there was a new life to fight for,” Esme said. “I ran as far as I could. I needed to protect my baby, and I couldn’t do that if I was dead. He found me the first time, though. So, I ran again. For some time, I even became a teacher. For the first time in so many years, I was happy. I had fulfilled my childhood dream, and I was building my own family. But all of that ended when my baby died only two days after being born. I had changed my entire life for my son, and he had been ripped away from me in just 48 hours. With him gone, I had nothing left to live for. And well, after all that, Carlisle changed me. 

“I will say that I assimilated to this life quickly. It was easy when the alternative had been so horrendous for me. But, the reason I’m telling you this is not because I just wanted you to hear my sorrowful story,” she chuckled softly. “A couple of years after I was changed, Edward grew rebellious. We didn’t have a bad life, much less a bad relationship. But he was only a year younger than you are when he was turned, and he was growing angsty with our way of life, especially our diet. He went on a rampage, finding the worst of the worst among humans using his ability. He only returned to us two years ago. But he told me who his first victim had been. It had been my ex-husband. He told me how he made sure he suffered, that he yelled for mercy, and pleaded to God to save him.

“It should have made me feel better that he was gone. That he couldn’t hurt anyone any longer, for the world had to be a better place without another monster walking in its midst. I did feel relief for a second that he could not get to anyone else, but it didn’t really matter. He had still hurt me, and his being dead didn’t change that. All I could do was try and move past it. Not forgetting what he did to me, but learning to live with it,” she explained. Esme approached Rosalie, taking her hands in hers and staring deeply into the red eyes before her. “Killing Royce won’t stop the hurt from taking over your heart, Rosalie, just as I know that killing those other four men hasn’t satiated the ire inside you.”  

“Even if it won’t fix what they tore inside me, I can make sure it doesn’t happen to any other woman. At least, the ones that would have fallen victim to them if they weren’t dead,” Rosalie said through gritted teeth. There were no tears to hold back, as much as she wanted them. She wanted them to make her eyes burn with anticipation, and she couldn’t almost remember that feeling and trick herself that it was happening. But the stream never came. “I cannot let him walk free on this earth after seeing just how well he can hide the kind of monster he is. If he was going to marry me and he did what he did, I don’t want to imagine what he would do to a woman he doesn’t even know. I’m not doing this to heal anything inside me or because I am seeking inner peace. I am doing this so they can never do this again.”

 Esme knew there was nothing she could say that would deter Rosalie from finishing her plan. Instead of drowning with more words, she simply smiled and told her she understood. Before leaving the girl be, she turned and said, “You should take a stroll through the garden. This summer the nightshade has sprouted beautifully.” 

Rosalie stared at herself in the mirror, and the vision that stared back at her startled her. Dressed in a strikingly white dress that was as close as possible to the one she had picked out with her mother was unsettling. Much more knowing that to that day, she should have been already three months married… or three months dead. 

But she was neither. 

No. Her blood-red eyes reminded her that she was not married and she was stuck in a land that was not quite living but not quite dead. She was stuck as she was in a world that was no longer hers for the taking. Still, if there was one thing that was still hers, it was the ability to taste Royce’s death already. 

She had found his hideout rather quickly. He had trapped himself in the basement of an abandoned bank building that was still under his family’s possession. Little did he know that in his hiding, he had given her the perfect place to rid the world of the monster he was. His soul would forever be trapped somewhere that perfectly represented him –cold, dark, and made just for money. 

Everything was already going to plan. The crate of whiskey had been delivered on time and sent directly into the vault with food and other necessities. All she needed to do was wait it out for an hour. Sixty minutes to allow the paranoia to set in, for the hallucinations to fester, for all the pain and discomfort to rip its way across his body. She would allow the little plant to set her stage because she would be the main act that day. 

Rosalie waited until she could not wait any longer. Until she knew his mind would have started its descent into madness. She wanted him to be trembling in his skin before she made her grand entrance. 

From the bank's main lobby, she could hear Royce’s racing heart, his breathing heave, and his frantic steps. It would have been the most intoxicating song had her heart not been filled with dark hatred. His suffering meant nothing to her until it was her own hands inflicting the pain. She had to get into that room sooner rather than later. 

Though Royce was her main target, she needed to get past the two men that guarded the vault door. Innocent souls that had to be reaped because of the sins of a monster. Her parents had taught her the just paid for the guilty. And in matters of love and war, all was fair. That afternoon, two souls would join the five that had shredded her own. She would grant them a quick and painless death, and go on with the rest of the plan. 

And so, she snapped the men’s necks and laid them on the floor. She closed their eyes and prayed to whatever higher power that was out there to forgive their trespasses, granting them safe passage into the afterlife. There wasn’t much she believed in anymore, but she needed to believe that at least the innocent made their way to something better. 

With those men out of the way, Rosalie could finally accomplish what she had to do. It’s showtime, she told herself. No turning back now. 

The door wasn’t locked, only put together to give Royce the semblance of security. Not that it would have mattered. Supernatural strength and speed allowed it not to matter. Without even knowing it, Royce had written his death sentence the second he had left her for dead. 

“No. No. No. No,” she heard him mutter. “It’s not my fault. It’s not. I didn’t do it.” 

Delirium. Truly perfect. 

“Honey,” she smiled as she burst through the door, making the entire building tremble under her strength. “I’m home.” 

“No, God, please,” Royce cried as he cowered in a corner, his eyes growing as big as saucers at the vision before him. Locked inside that room, he had felt he had started to go crazy. Hidden in the shadows lived the person that had haunted his friends and was haunting him now. He knew whoever it had been was bidding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. What he had not expected was to see her. “How are you here? How are you showing her to me?” 

“I am not a mirage, dear Royce,” Rosalie said, smoothing down her gown. It dragged behind her as she walked, the sound of the fabric swishing on the ground mixing beautifully with the sound of his racing heart. “I am actually here. Standing before you as I would have months ago.” 

“But you died… I mean, you had to have died.” 

“Oh, I did,” Rosalie sighed. She crossed the room elegantly, taking in how it had been transformed. An elegant bed was pressed against one of the walls, the sheets perfectly done as though no one had ever dared sleep on them. Truly, the entire place had been decorated to portray a luxury suite, like the ones in the many hotels the King family frequented. Beautiful and expensive. Much like the armchair she sat on to face the man directly. “You see, I stand before you today completely dead. Well… technically undead. I’m living, but I’m not alive, Royce. I’m what you might call a vampire now.”

“That’s not… no. That’s not possible!” Royce exclaimed, trembling. The bottle he held in his hands spilled with every shake of his limbs, soaking his shirt. “You’re a ghost. The same one that’s been haunting me for months.”

“I know you wish that were true, Royce. Because maybe then I wouldn’t be able to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” he said as he cowered deeper into the corner of the room. “Why would you hurt me?” 

“Oh, Royce. I knew you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn’t think you’d be this cretinous,” she scoffed. “Do you really think I’m here just to say goodbye? Darling, I’m here to do so much worse. I’ve already started, actually.” 

“W-what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m sure you can feel the way your heart is racing, how your skin has gotten clammy, and how your brain is all delirious. That was a little gift from me,” she grinned devilishly, examining the perfection of her cuticles. “I know how you can’t resist a glass of whiskey no matter the time of day, and I knew you had a few scheduled shipments of bottles. So, with the help of a beautiful blue flower and absentminded delivery boys, I was able to slip some deadly nightshade into those bottles. Hence, the reaction from your body and your delusions.” 

“You poisoned me? How could you, Rosalie? I don’t deserve this.” 

  “Oh no, you don’t get to speak my name,” Rosalie spat. In a matter of a second, she had killed any distance between them  “My name is the only thing you will never have possession of. Not anymore. And to think you have the audacity to question what you deserve.”

“But I don’t, R… I don’t deserve this,” he cried as the girl balled his shirt in her hands. “I made one mistake.” 

“What you and your friends did was no mistake, Royce. It was a deliberate and brutal robbery of my innocence, of my life. It was a testament to your true character and the monster that lay beneath sheep’s clothing,” she seethed. “The worst part of it all is that I would have lived with your sins had you simply given me the life I had dreamed of. I would have let you drink until your belly was full of nothing but liquor and beer. I would have let you cheat as long as you came home to me. I would have let you take everything as long as I had my children to care for. And what a waste of a life that would have been.” 

Fat tears fell from the man’s eyes, connecting with the slobber of boogers that escaped his nose, and it disgusted Rosalie to be so close to him. But it was the dangerously fast pace of his heart that thrilled her. It was the perspiration on his skin that edged her on. It was the unnatural dilation of his pupils that made her want to dance in victory. 

She knew he was in pain. She knew that his body wanted nothing more than to reject the poison of the deadly nightshade, but it would never be able to. Not while she was there, witnessing the demise of the worst kind of monster. 

Royce pleaded under his breath, trying to appeal to the human side of Rosalie without understanding that the part he was begging to had died that night. The humanity left inside her dwindled as she stared at the pitiful man. She couldn’t imagine a world where she had ended up with him. At least, for that, she was grateful. 

“You‘ll never find love,” Royce suddenly spat, a sudden rage boiling inside him, giving him enough energy to yell at her. “Not as the abomination that you are.”

“And what is that, Royce?” She said through gritted teeth. “Because the person I thought I loved was you.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he barked.  “Don’t think I don’t know about your inclinations. I saw you with my own eyes.” 

“Whatever you think you might have seen will go with you in death. At least you’ll have that memory then to keep you company.” 

“The title of murderer is less vile than the other name. You’re lucky I took pity on you and showed you what you were missing out on.”

“Pity? You took pity on me?” Rosalie took hold of his shirt, lifting him from the ground as though he weighed no more than a dress. “You destroyed me. You defiled me. You took my life. Whatever it is that you think you may know about me did not give you the right to do any of that.”

“I saved you first from a lifetime of embarrassment,” Royce choked, his voice trembling as fear overtook him. “Your lifestyle would have gotten you killed regardless.”

“The only lifestyle that killed me was the one where I chose you,” she spat. “You did this to me, Royce. And now you have to pay.”

She let him drop to the ground to cower into the corner. One second, the man was back to crying and begging. The next, he was clutching at his chest and groaning in pain. “Please stop this,” he groaned. His heart had started running at a desperate pace, trying its best to pump blood to his body. But his arteries were contracting as the seconds passed, and his body would start shutting down soon after. “I know you can. Just please, I promise I’ll be better. Just give me a chance.”

“You had a chance, Royce. This life. This was your chance, and you wasted it. You decided to use your one chance to be a despicable man —driven by your greediness and your ego. You could have led a long and beautiful life,  but you weren’t satisfied. You wanted more and more until there was nothing left to take. Now, you won’t take anything from anyone else.” 

“Please,” he sobbed, but his words came out slurred as the poison kept rushing through his bloodstream. A rash had started peeking through his clothes, burning it way through his skin. He couldn’t choose between scratching at the patches or clutching at his chest, his entire body quickly starting to betray him. “I don’t wanna die.”

“Funny,” she laughed. “I didn’t either.”

Royce didn’t take long to deteriorate. His body was already weak from a diet of fear and whiskey—and the lethal amount of nightshade that she had injected in the bottles. He had gravitated onto his bed, barely hanging on to the little life that was left in him. His lungs wheezed and his skin reddened, his limbs spasmed and his lips trembled, and his eyes never left hers. 

And she stared back. 

“Soon enough, you will stop breathing,” she sighed. “I’m sure you can barely feel your arms and your legs. Just like I know you’re trying your hardest to take in a single breath. Isn’t it terrifying? To lay there and feel your life slipping through your fingers, all because someone else decided that you weren’t worthy of your own life.” 

“P… ple… please,” he managed to croak out. Tears stained his face, mixing with the sweat on his skin. “H-h-help… m-me.” 

“It’s too late, Royce,” she smiled deviously. “Don’t you get it by now? You are dying today. You will lay there and suffer and beg. And then, you will die. Not because it’s justice for what you did to me. But because no one else in this Earth will ever have to meet a monster like you. And I will stay and watch until you take your last breath.”

And so, he begged. Royce begged until the lack of oxygen forced his eyes shut. 

And Rosalie watched. She watched until he took his last, wheezing breath. 

Once she could not hear his heart beating anymore, she spared him one last close-up glance. She stood over him and looked over his corpse, wondering who it would be that would find his body. What would they think happened? The easiest explanation would be a heart attack, but the bodies in front of the vault would paint a different story. It wasn’t because she was worried she’d be caught ���there was no way she ever would be– but rather because she wondered what plot would be spun to glorify Royce’s life and condemn his killer. And she was absolutely certain they would never believe a woman had been the one to kill him, let alone the other six men. 

“Rot in hell, Royce,” Rosalie whispered against his ear. “Say hi to your friends for me.” 

The girl thought she had merely spent an hour or two inside the bank, but as she slipped back into the alley, she noticed that the morning had come and gone, and the moon had started to peek its way out on the horizon. She quickly changed out of the wedding dress, ripping it from her skin as if it was suffocating her. Her lungs ached for a breath they didn’t need as something deep inside her snapped. It seemed that Esme had been right. Killing Royce didn’t make her feel better, but it had satiated her conscience. He could not hurt anyone else. 

Rosalie placed a hat on her head to conceal her face as she walked through the barely crowded streets of her home. Whispers on the street spoke of the demented killer that had taken the lives of four young men. Even if it had been a while since he had killed, everyone knew he was still out there. She had expected that much. The fear of the unknown was enough to rattle an entire town, and after Royce, it would be the only topic on everyone’s tongues for a long time. 

What she had not expected was to come face to face with a picture of herself. 

Taped to a lamp post was her last photograph taken with the words MISSING in bold on top of it. Under, a brief description of who she had been was printed, her family calling for any information regarding the whereabouts of their daughter. But that didn’t strike her as odd. She knew her family would be worried—had been worried for months. 

No. It was the small message posted under her family’s plea that made her stop in her tracks, a sudden wave of sadness numbing her limbs. She ran her pale fingers over the withered paper as though she could hear the voice if she touched the words. 

Please help bring our Rosie home, the message read. There are people here who love her more than sunflowers love the sun. 

There was no need for a signature for Rosalie to know exactly who’d had that message printed. She ripped the message from the page, folding it into the bag she had buried the wedding dress in, careful not to wrinkle the paper. 

Her heart wrenched inside her chest as she remembered the last time she had seen this person. The last time she ever would.

Only a week before her wedding, Vera had told her how much she wished Rosalie a long and happy life. As the blonde carried Henry in her arms, her friend placed a soft hand into hers, squeezing comfortingly as she smiled. 

“You deserve happiness, Rosie,” she had said that afternoon. “I just wish…”

“There’s no point in wishing,” Rosalie sighed, her eyes transfixed by the baby in her arms. She had been afraid to look Vera in the eyes —the beautiful gemstone eyes she had adored. “You have your family. And I’m on track to have mine. It is all we ever dreamed of.” 

“But it was supposed to look like this,” Vera had sighed. “Not quite like how it really is.” 

“We knew from the start that it would end this way, V. This is just the world we live in. At least this way, we can still be in each other’s lives.” 

“Even with all your high-class parties and important people to attend?” she had joked. “You really think you’ll have time for me.” 

“Always,” Rosalie had smiled. “Forever.”

“Really? You mean that?”

“Does a sunflower love the sun?”

Now, she had all the time in the world. So much time it could never run out. But there was not a second more she would be able to spend with Vera or with Henry. She’d never again brush away the little boy’s dark curls as they fell in front of his eyes. She’d never again hear Vera calling her name as she laughed. She’d never have everything she wanted —anyone she wanted. 

After what felt like a lifetime of staring at her own face, Rosalie straightened out her dress and made her way back to the Cullen residence as though nothing had happened. She cleared her mind of all thoughts about her best friend and walked inside, ready to shut herself in her room until it was time to feed. 

“You really did it, huh?” Edward taunted. “You really went through with it.”

“Please spare me the mocking tonight, Edward,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “My patience is wearing quite thin, and there’s no telling if I might snap. I have heard that us newborns have a tendency to be twitchy and rather strong.” 

“You’re such a…”

“That’s quite enough, Edward,” Esme interjected before he could go any further. “Leave your judgment inside your head.”

Edward muttered a complaint as he disappeared into the backyard, acting as a teenager reprimanded by their mother. Which, in a sense, he was. 

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Rosalie,” the woman smiled. “I hope that whatever happened today and all those months before brought you some type of solace. I know it will never be enough, but I hope it’s a start.”

“I hope so, too.”  

But she knew her heart would need much more mending than only a few deaths. 

That night, she had pulled out the message from her bag alongside a picture she had managed to take with her of Vera and her in their class banquet. They had worn beautiful gowns and were smiling from ear to ear as they danced together. It was a memory she would carry for the rest of her life. But, then, she had laid in the bed she did not need, pressing the picture and the message close to her chest, and closed her eyes to pretend she could dream she was back there.

Next ->

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[arpmemething2]

Full House Sentence Starters

Send one for my muse’s reaction.  Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

"Gee, your hair smells like melon. What are you using?"

"Why thank you!"

"Don’t say it if you don’t mean it."

"No way, Jose!"

"She signed up for Shop Class cause she thought it was taught at the mall."

"We have this thing here in America called a restraining order"

“I guess we’re not as old as we thought we were, are we now”

"You don't have to be hip and cool. You're spick and span."

"I hope you're not offended. But if you are, that's her father over there."

"Darling, I just hope you are alright. But if you are alright, I'll kill you."

"You got it, dude."

"The baby's sleeping like a baby."

" Did ya get the triple chocolate with pink frosting in the shape of a clown's face with a big cherry-red nose? Did ya, did ya, DID YA?"

"I'm just cleaning my rubber gloves."

"She had the most incredible hypnotic eyes, the face of an angel, the most amazing body."

"You got a bad attitude."

"I can't have chicken pox, I'm immune."

"That's not a big problem. A big problem is like... well... if your butt fell off."

"You've been in toon-town for 2 days. Now, start acting like a human being."

"Cut. It. Out!"

"Talk to me."

"You're immune to common sense."

"Disco will never die."

"Shame on you!"

"Duh!"

"You should take a drive through a car wash without your car."

"I'm stuck in a room full of eggheads. They're worse than eggheads, they're omelette-heads!"

"Well, pin a rose on your nose."

"Oh, puh-lease!"

"How rude!"

"Don't shake your head. Your story's read. It's time for bed. To bed, I said."

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you... Only you're not joining in."

"Jail break!"

"Now you can have ice cream and chocolate milk, no cookies."

"Elvis never made one golf movie."

"Boy, this is gonna be a fun night."

"Tell me something I don’t know!"

"This kid has been walking for three days and you haven't stopped taping her. I'll feel sorry for her when she starts potty training."

"She was choking on a bad piece of cheese, so I gave her the Hoover maneuver and sucked it out of her."

"'Sorry.' 'Sorry.' 'Sorry' doesn't change the fact that my chicken tetrazzini is ruined!"

"I had a traumatic experience with squash once. I ate one."

"Aw, nuts!"

"Have mercy!"

"You gotta be kidding."

"A telescope that can only see your face?"

"I think you're a little mixed up."

"We never clean at my house. We move in, trash the place for five years, then move out."

"Yeah, well I bet you won't be getting surprised tonight."

"You can't buy my vote... but you can rent it for an hour."

"I’ll stay home and watch public television."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Whoa, Baby!"

"Am I the raddest, baddest dad a kid ever had?"

"Oh, mylanta!"

"I tried, and I failed. I'm just glad I figured this out now, and not when I'm 46."

"Hey, you had your adventure and now I'm going to have mine"

"Watch the hair!"

"You. Are. Not. Welcome!"

"I am stoked! Whatever that means."

"Who wants white meat? Scratch the white meat. We have dark meat and really dark meat."

"You have the brain of a paramecium."

"I am not and I'm telling you said that."

"Hey, I thought we were going out for ice cream."

"I need that cake!"

"You’re in big trouble, mister."

"You can keep the drums, but the sticks have got to go."

"Like on 'Oprah!' People married to two people at the same time… oh my god, They are a botanist!"

"Happy birthday to me!"

"That’s not funny."

“I will never die”