#Yes I did have to get blood drawn today

[buthearmeouttho]

note to self; get Bucky to bring you to all your doctor appointments n’ shit for trying to figure out your chronic cough because he’ll let you avoid getting your blood drawn and like, allergy testing because he has trauma and he’ll let you get away with it.

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 4

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : 2.3k word count : your experience with the unsub warning : canon-typical violence (it gets a bit gory, torture-ish, implied sexual violence), swear words > read at your own risk, you are responsible for the media you consume A/N : thank you all for the support and love on this omggg <333 Emily's a tiny bit of a bitch in this one, whoopsie. y/n cries the whole time, I figured that was what I would do. would you guys like a part 5, maybe Spencer taking care of y/n after such a traumatic experience? some comfort after hurt?

part 1, part 2, part 3

The first thing you noticed when you came to your senses was the throbbing in the back of your head. Your first reflex was to bring your hand up to where you were sure to find blood, but you couldn’t move either of your arms. Opening your eyes wearily, you noticed that your wrists were restrained, binding you to an old wooden chair.  “What the-“ Your heart rate picked up as the memory of being hit over the head came back to you. Frantically looking around, your breathing started getting short and ragged when you realised your surrounding were wholly unfamiliar to you. You jerked your wrists to the sides, hoping that maybe the tight ropes would untie themselves. 

“Don’t tire yourself out,” an icy voice drawled from a dark corner. You could barely hear over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. You cursed yourself when he stepped out of the shadows, greasy locks pushed behind his ears. You should have told Spencer. You should have known.

His face was barely visible in the dim light. The smell of dust and mold which clung to the room suited him well. His gaze on you made you feel dirty and you hated it. You examined the enclosed space you were in and realised you were in an abandoned art room on campus. You'd discovered it once with your friends by accident, years ago. Art supplies, canvases and desks were strewn about in a careless manner. You tried not to think too much about the blood dotting the floor in multiple places.

"Why did you bring me here?" you asked, doing your best to remain calm. He was clearly unstable and you didn't want to trigger him if you could help it. “Don't worry about that, just know you’re not getting out of here any time soon, honey.” He smiled, a frightening grimace, and licked his lips. Nausea clouded your senses for a second. Tears gathered on your waterline. “Oh yes, I will.” Your voice shook as you spoke and you hated how weak you sounded. His brows raised and he let slip a little, mocking laugh. It made your skin crawl. A tear slipped down your cheek and, humiliatingly, you couldn't wipe it away. “And why do you think that?” he asked, feigning interest. You scowled at him. “The FBI is going to find you, you sick fuck. If they couldn't before this, they definitely will now." 

Your head whipped to the side as he slapped you across the face. He bent down, placing his face mere centimetres from yours. Another tear fell from your eye as you felt your cheek sting and then get uncomfortably warm. “You stupid bitch,” he snarled. “You better watch your tone. You actually think they’ll find you? That's cute." You swallowed, opting to stay silent.

Spencer knew something had happened as soon as Hotch stepped into the room. Over the years, he'd learned how his boss functioned and how to separate all the micro-expressions he used before assembling them back together and interpreting them. Today, he could tell something was seriously wrong.

He hadn't even thought of you at first. In his mind, you were safe. The unsub had been arrested and proof was being searched for. The guy fit the profile and the profile never lied. So why did Hotch ask him to sit down?

"W- what?" "I think you may want to sit down for this." Spencer was getting agitated, he didn't like being kept out of the information loop. "Hotch, just tell us what's going on," pressed Morgan, brows drawn together. "You know how we asked all the professors to contact us immediately if anyone fitting the victimology didn't show up for class?" "Yeah," Emily nodded, urging Hotch on. "We got a call." The Unit Chief's eyes fell on Spencer and the latter knew what he was going to say before the words were uttered. "Spencer, Y/N's professor said she didn't show up to class this morning."

"O-okay, wait, that doesn't mean anything, we arrested a guy, she could just not be feeling well," Emily spoke hastily, concerned about the look on Spencer's face. "No, we must have the wrong-" Spencer was interrupted by Morgan: "Wait a second, the profile says-" "I don't care what the profile says, Morgan! Y/N's first class today is Germanic Ethos and Christian Faith in Medieval Literature, that's her favourite class, she's never missed it in the entire semester! And she was feeling well this morning, we had breakfast together and she would have told me if not! Clearly, we have the wrong guy!"

Silence reigned for a short moment after Spence's outburst. The entire team was left speechless by his behaviour, which was entirely unprecedented. Spencer ran a hand through his hair, letting out a small sigh. "I- Can you try calling her at least? Before we jump to any conclusions." Emily crossed her arms over her chest. Spencer sent her a dark look before whipping out his phone and pressing on the first name in his contact list. He put it on speaker and let it ring.

"No, no, please," you sobbed, "no more! Please! No, stop!"

Your voice was raw from screaming. Judging by the three shallow cuts he left on your right shoulder, the unsub enjoyed seeing your blood pearl and run down your skin. He also revelled in watching you writhe and scream in pain. "What did I tell you? Shut the fu-" He raised his hand in the air and you flinched away by reflex only to find the blow never came. You held your breath.

"I'm breaking dishes up in here all night, uh uh! I ain't gon' stop until I see police and lights, uh uh! I'm a fight a man tonight, I'm a fight a man-"

Oh, the irony. You didn't know whether to bless or curse Rihanna. "What the fuck is this?!" he roared, swivelling sharply on his feet to press the blade of his bloody knife into your cheek. You whimpered quietly. You couldn't help but think of all the infections you would be vulnerable to because of his dirty and rusted weapon. How could someone have so little care for basic hygiene? "It's- It's my ringtone! It's just my ringtone!"

"A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an! A man, a man, a ma-a-a-an!"

"You little bitch," he hissed, quickly untying your hands and grabbing your throat. He lifted you up by the neck and slammed you into the nearest wall, yelling about what a deceiving, conniving whore you were. You cried out in pain, desperately pulling at his hand which was wound tight around your throat. "You think your little friends are going to come and get you?!" he mocked, smushing your cheeks with his other hand. "Tough luck, doll, you're all alone and you're going to-" "Wait!" you spluttered, "Wait!" Your vision had begun going blurry but your mind remained intact. "If- If I don't answer, they'll know something's wrong! And then they'll send everyone out looking for me, for you!"

His grip on your throat lessened and you coughed, forcing air back into your lungs. Your eyes burned with tears. "What does it matter to you?" "Look- I- It doesn't matter, my ringtone is about to stop! And they'll come for sure!" Making a split-second decision, he stomped over to where he'd thrown your bag and sweater carelessly on the ground. You slid down onto the floor, wiping at your eyes. Hastily ruffling through your bag, he pulled your phone out after a second. You lamented all the flyaway papers you'd annotated with bright and lively colours now most likely stained with grime and blood. The unsub answered the call and roughly pressed the phone against your ear. You winced.

"O-Oh, Y/N! It's Spencer, are you alright?!" Big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks at the comforting sound of Spencer's voice. You wanted nothing more than to be near him, away from this living hell. If anyone could understand a message and find you, Spencer could. You were painfully aware of the little time you had left before the unsub got on with his routine and got rid of you. You cleared your throat, wanting to appear natural. "Hey! Yeah, I'm- I'm fine, I'm heading for my Wax Tablet Workshop, we are going to look at how writing on wax is art which has been abandoned by scholars, like universities." "O- Okay, sweets, I'll come get you after class okay? We can go for a coffee together!" "Sounds great, Spence!"

The unsub threw your phone onto the ground next to you and crushed it with his foot. You let your tears fall freely. Spencer had understood. He was coming.

"That was a hidden message, she doesn't have a Wax Tablet Workshop. It's not even a course the university offers." Spencer's brain was working even faster than usual. The BAU team had never seen him like this before. "Garcia, look for all abandoned locations on university campus. Maybe a classroom?" he urged.

The sound of a keyboard typing incredibly fast was heard on the speaker. "I've got one." Penelope's voice was urgent and contained no trace of its usual lightness. "There's an abandoned art studio on the East side of the campus. I'm sending you the address now."

"Let's go," ordered Hotch.

You'd never wear shorts again. Exhausted, beaten, bruised and tied to a chair, you didn't have the energy to do anything more than move your knee when he trailed his finger along it. You were starting to lose hope. There was no clock in sight, but you could guess your time would soon be up. Some part of you wanted to give up. You knew if Spencer were here, he'd tell you to keep fighting, to keep hoping. But you were tired, so, so tired.

You suspected you had a concussion from when he'd knocked out and when he'd slammed you into the wall. Your vision was blurry. Although, maybe that was due to the tears. They hadn't stopped coming since he'd first slapped you. But when his cold hand found your thigh and squeezed it roughly, the kindling fire in you regained strength. No. You would rather die than suffer whatever else he had planned for you. As he started moving his repulsive mouth towards you, you jerked your knee upwards, hard, right into his groin. He roared in pain and doubled over, stumbling backwards.

"Stay the fuck back!" you screamed hysterically. "Don't you dare fucking touch me, you psycho!" He met your eyes with a frenzied look you'd never seen before and pounced on you. The chair you were sitting on shattered with a loud noise and you screamed, finding yourself lying on top of splintery wood pieces. As he brought his arm upwards, knife facing downwards, towards you, you closed your eyes. You didn't want him to be the last thing you saw. You thought of all the good things in your life, your family, Spencer, Geoffrey, Spencer, your friends, Spencer,...

"Put it down!!!" bellowed a familiar voice. "Put it down now!" You opened your eyes. The door behind you had been broken down. FBI agents flooded the room, all aiming their guns at the man on top of you. His eyes darted frantically between Agent Morgan, whose voice you'd recognised, and two other agents you couldn't see.

"I want a deal!" the unsub cried out, "I want a deal!" "No deal," a deeper, more authoritative voice spoke. The unsub raised his arm again, preparing to strike. You closed your eyes.

BAM!

To this day, you didn't think the unsub expected to be shot. You figured he was expecting to be imprisoned. You didn't see the look on his face when he was shot, only felt the dead weight of his body falling on top of you.

Shrieking hysterically, you struggled frantically to move his corpse off you. Someone shoved him off you, promising you in a soothing voice that you were safe.

"Spencer." His name had never been spoke like that before. It was a haunting sob, a cry for help. He was at your side immediately, ridding you of the ropes around your wrists and pulling you away from the broken chair.

It was only when he called your name a third time that you finally found your grasp on reality again. Spencer pulled you into his arms, being careful not to squeeze you too tight. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. The comforting smell of him, of home, engulfed and grounded you. "It's okay," he cooed softly, lips brushing your ear, "you're safe now, he can't hurt you anymore." "Call an ambulance," you heard someone order in the distance. Sobbing hard into Spencer's shoulder, you pulled him impossibly closer to you. "I'm so sorry," you bawled, "I had seen him before on c- campus, like- like your boss said but I didn't want to tell you! I thought he was an- an exchange student!" Spencer shushed you, hands still shaking from taking the shot he took with no hesitation. This would be one of the kills he wouldn’t loose any sleep over. "You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart, you did everything right, I promise you."

"I- I didn't do what you always say," you hiccuped sadly, mouth moving against the material of his sweater vest, staining it with blood and tears. It was an article of clothing which would be ruined for both of you. Spencer would give it to charity a week later, you wouldn't miss it. "I didn't play into his fantasy, I kept telling him you were going to find me, and he was so angry!" "Baby." This was the first he'd called you that. It stopped you in your tracks. "Listen to me, you did everything right. You may not still be alive if you'd played into his fantasy. You were perfect, I promise. Just breathe, now, alright? You’re okay." "Are- are you sure?" "Yes, baby, I'm sure."

Taglist : (thank you for the support my loves <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos @addyyodaddy @lunavelha @scottybitch @rivwritesiguess @lunagalaa @solacestyles @mgg55lovr @salty-sister @angrygalaxyduck @kayybay @arusio @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @perfectmilkshakeruins @pleasantwitchgarden @slutforwordsfr @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @bippityboppityboob1tch @navs-bhat @amethyst0532 @theamuz @gretaandthatsit @digitalhearts

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! Killer

tw: female reader, murder (not reader), jealousy, captivity, slight gore

The cabin is warm enough - and that's one good reason to be grateful. Sitting by the fireplace brings you a slight twinge of comfort, reminds you of savage winters and hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows swimming on top that your mom would make on Christmas Eve. As you bring your hands together to rub them, you know your eyes are watering up - and you try to dispel the nostalgic memories, but you've always been a crybaby. The heat quickly spreads around the small room, burning your cheeks.

You hold your breath, your whole body stiffening with gripling fear as you hear that familiar sound of heels crushing ice, of twigs breaking into pieces under his heavy uniform step. You immediately stand up, rushing to dust off your long skirt, and for a split second every worry under the sun floods your dizzy head. Is the dinner too salty? Did you burn the meat? Is your apron clean and tidy? Is he still angry, just as he was this afternoon before storming off?

You don't need to fight your invisible fears much longer, because the very source of them, the monster in the shadows, kicks the door open. Your blood runs cold at the very sight of him - despite being in his loving arms for almost two years, fear remains your most loyal companion, if not your only. You never touch him without your old friend whispering deadly in your ear, and he never kisses you before he makes sure fear's taken comfort in your eyes. But something is different today - something about him feels off.

His boots are soaked - but outside it's freezing drought. His coat is stained, although you clearly remember washing it thoroughly a few days ago. The smell coming off him, usually awfully sterile, much like a hospital, with a singular note of wood - now reeks of something human, something musky and fleshy and moving like a thumping heart. And his eyes... they're smiling, oddly. He seems content, satisfied even. In one hand he's dragging a big black sack, and he uses the other to pull you in. You get light - headed by the proximity alone, but you know you have to act quickly. You've never seen him in such a mood, so you have no idea what to expect.

"D-darling, let me take your coat off. You must be tired, let's go to the firepl-." You try to take his garment, but he grabs your wrist in the motion, forcing you to stay still. You can feel your legs begin to shake. "What's the rush, pet? Let me take a good look at you." Daniel orders with bared teeth, making you do a spin for him. It's so deeply humiliating you can feel your cheeks heat up, but the man doesn't notice your discomfort as he wraps both his hands around your waist.

"You're wearing the red skirt." The man observes emotionlessly, taking in your form with a cold hard gaze. "D-do you like it?" You ask quietly, and he only humms in approval. "It will do. It is a special night after all." He replies shortly, slowly walking towards the table. You run after him to set the dinner, heart pulsing out of your chest. "Special n-night, you say?" You inquire, unable to remember exactly what day it is. In fact you stopped counting them a long time ago.

He nodds, gray eyes following your every movement, and through sheer panic you have to ask yourself once again whether he's truly human. He licks his lips, still staring right at you.

"Yes. I brought you something." Daniel starts off, still holding onto the sack. The corners of his lips start curling up ever so slightly, but the dim light hides most details of his face, while leaving you fully exposed. "Consider it a wedding gift." His smile gets crooked and all twisted. "For a beautiful, beautiful bride."

Your gaze is reluctantly drawn to the black bag, and suddenly you notice the red stains following it all over the pristine floor, leading to the table. Only once your eyes widen in horror does he untie the blue string holding it together, dumping the contents on the ground with a loud splash.

You can see it on your walls. You can see it on the carpet. You can feel it on your face. You open your mouth, ready to scream your guts out, but his hand clamps over it, rough fingers digging into the soft of your cheeks with pure hatred.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't you dare scream - and don't even think about turning your head away." Daniel hisses in your ear, keeping your head sternly in place as your whole body shakes like a leaf, guttural sobs threatening to burst out of your vocal cords. Laying before you on the ground is the head of... of... "This is what you wanted, isn't it? It's what you dreamt of. Don't you dare call me selfish now - see how much I fucking do for you, princess." He growls, caught between manic rage and primal agression as he tears into your throat like a wild animal. Now your neck is as bloody as your fiance's.

"You kept calling out his name last night - and then I remembered! Today marks two years since your engagement." The man strokes your chin, cooing at you mockingly. You, on the other hand, are completely frozen, unable to process the nightmare you've been thrown into. "So it makes sense, really. You must miss him oh-so-much. So I thought," His voice gets lower, sinister - taunting. In that moment he's more beautiful and more cruel than any God, deadlier than any weapon. "Since I am such a considerate lover, why not bring him to you?"

He's missing both his eyes, they've been torn off completely out of the socket. His tongue is sticking out grotesquely, but his skin is still warm. His hair, once soft and silky smooth under your gentle fingertips, is sullied with blood and filth.

"Happy anniversary, love."

[sankttealeaf]

Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here…” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

[vivwritesfics]

Beautiful Monster

Vampire!Max is instantly hooked when he meets a girl that looks like the vampire that turned him. He searches for her, until he finds himself on her sofa, teeth against her neck.

Warnings: max killing (not reader), blood drinking, slightest smut, reader doesn't die but she is lowkey a dumb bitch

Viv's AUgust Event

There was nothing wrong with the house on the hill. It was probably very nice inside, but the rumours that surrounded it, the rumours about the beast inside.

He knew the rumours around him, knew what the children said as they dared each other to ring his doorbell and run away. The curtains were always drawn and the beast rested through the day, emerging at night.

He was so damn beautiful, but he didn't see that (yes, he can see his reflection in the mirror, since his mirror is a modern mirror and not backed with silver). He saw the monster that everybody else should have seen. But everybody else saw an angel.

Well, before they died. That was the only time he emerged from his house; to feed. The pretty girls at the bar happily followed him out to the alleyway, where he sank his sharp teeth into their neck and drained them dry.

She would have followed him out to the alley, would have let him pierce the skin of her neck. But Max couldn't. She looked too much like her.

Like Max's first love. The woman that drew him in and kissed his lips until they were red and swollen. He'd been human back then. His heart had been beating and he was capable of feeling love.

She had bitten his neck and fed him her blood, turning him into the nocturnal beast he was today. A hundred years of solitude, of only emerging when he needed to feed.

At first Max thought it was her. It had to be, there was no other explanation. But he watched this woman carefully. She was alive. A living, breathing being. She wasn't a monster like him.

The first time she approached him, she fluttered her eyelashes and giggled at everything he said. Flirting with him. She wasn't the first woman to do so, but she was the first one to leave him tongue tied.

Normally, Max only danced with her when he had to. He only twirled a girl around the dance floor when he was hungry and she was making him work for it. But when she asked Max to dance, he said yes. He already knew he wouldn't be feeding from her, she looked too much like his first love.

At the end of the night Max was draining another girl in the alleyway before he returned to the house on the hill. But he couldn't get her out of his head.

So much so that he went out again the next night. But she was nowhere to be found. She wasn't at the bar, wasn't anywhere at all. She must have been home, safe from all of the monsters roaming the town, safe from him.

Max went out again the next night, searching for her. She wasn't at that bar, but she was in the park, sitting on a beach with a little dog running around in front of her.

When Max approached, the little dog growled. "Leo!" She scooped the dog up and sat him in her lap.

Max had never been a dog person. Even when he was human, cats preferred him. Things only got worse once he was turned. Dogs growled and barked at him. Cats still tolerated him.

"Is he yours?" Max asked as he slipped into the seat beside her. The way she petted Leo's ears had him quiet in her lap. If it was possible, he would have been glaring at Max.

She shook her head. "He belongs to my friend, but I'm taking care of him while he's out of town."

He released a breath, one he hadn't meant to hold. So what if she owned a dog? She was just some mortal woman who would die in a few hundred years anywhere (when you're living forever, it's easy to forget how long the human lifespan was).

"You were a good dancer," she mused, fingers still absentmindedly petting Leo's head.

"I had a good partner."

What did she taste like, Max found himself wondering. Would her taste be as sweet as her scent? He could feel his fangs appearing as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

He kept them covered as he spoke to her. Well, it wasn't really a conversation. Just the two of them flirting back and forth until she picked him up and took his hand in her own, leading him out of the park.

Max didn't expect to end up on her sofa, with the dog barking away in the kitchen. He kissed her with fervour, his tongue exploring her mouth. In control of the situation, since he couldn't control himself.

She swung herself onto his lap as Max pulled away. It would be so easy to sink his teeth into her neck and drain her dry.

He couldn't stop himself as he started kissing the skin of her neck. She gasped when she felt his pointed teeth against her skin. But she wasn't pulling away, wasn't panicking. Her hips still moved against his, fingers working at the barrier of clothes that separated them.

But then his teeth sank in.

She stilled, breath catching in her throat as Max slowly began to drain her. But then she began to moan.

He knew it was a pleasurable experience for humans, remembered it from when he was still a man. She tasted so damn sweet, body going limp against him. Shit, he had never tasted anything like this.

Breath heaving, he pulled away from her. His tongue flattened against the puncture wounds, licking up what remained. Her hand came to settle on his chest and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"You're a monster," she said between breaths, too exhausted to rock her hips against his. If Max decided to explore what was in her jeans, he would have found an undeniable mess. "A beautiful monster."

She touched his cold cheek and pulled his face towards her own, kissing him.

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

meeting house. ( james wilson x reader )

gif belongs to me

The friendship between James and Greg had lasted far longer than any of his marriages. When you met the cynical diagnostician after he followed James during his lunch break to a café you were meeting at, you knew how important he was to your boyfriend and how exasperated James could be with him sometimes. House crashed your lunch date and started grilling you about your past and your relationship with James who tried to get him to leave.

You sent him a smile to reassure him that it was okay and allowed House to ask questions he designed to test your responses.

"How do you find his sexual prowess? Satisfactory?"

"House!"

You giggled as you ate a fry. "Very."

James raised an eyebrow at your reply, looking at House when he continued, "And you aren't worried about his failed marriages and his serial cheating?"

"Okay, that's enough."

"No." You pushed your plate closer when House ate your fries, leaning your arms on the table, mirroring him. "My sexual prowess is very satisfactory."

A slight smirk formed on House's lips and he looked at James who sat in stunned silence. "Is it?"

"Is what?"

House rolled his eyes, "Is sex with her very satisfactory?"

"I am not discussing this with you." James enunciated every word, sighing as he attempted to convince House to leave.

"Ooh, that's gotta hurt."

"What does?" James looked between you both, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, masking your amusement. "You don't think sex with me is great?"

"What? No - well, yes! Of course, it is! But do we need to discuss our sex life in a crowded diner?" James pouted, panicking at the thought of you being upset with him.

"Aw, he's blushing!"

You smiled when House teased him, and James smacked his hand away before he could pinch his cheek.

House stood up, leaning on his cane. "This isn't over." He took a handful of fries from your plate. "Thanks for the fries." He walked away and you looked at James who was trying to process the last twenty minutes.

"So are you satisfied with sex with me or not?"

Your casual tone broke his thoughts and he shook his head as he leaned closer. "Our sex is incredible. Right?"

You smiled, pecking his lips. "Good answer."

James observed for a moment as you continued eating lunch. "You know, you handled that much better than, well, anyone who comes into contact with House."

You shrugged, "I like him. It was entertaining."

"No, no, that's how he gets you. He tricks you into thinking it's fun but really we're all lab rats in a big cage. Trust me, I've known him a long time and I can't get rid of him."

You giggled as he began to eat his lunch. You knew that despite the banter between them, they cared a lot about each other.

Over the years you got used to having House in your life and to James's relief and dismay you both got along much better than any of his past wives. Although House still asked inappropriate questions or made remarks, but you left him speechless more than once with your responses.

You were willing to indulge his madness at times and James regretted not dragging House out of the diner as the two of you had gotten along so well ever since. You were the first woman House had ever approved of and James couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

On days like today, he was more inclined to believe the latter.

He entered exam room two in the clinic and sighed when he saw House drawing blood from your arm. You both lifted your heads as he closed the door.

"Hi, honey." You greeted him with a smile.

"Hi, honey." House echoed with a smirk.

"What are you doing?"

"We're taking it to the lab to test it." You explained.

James huffed, turning to glare at House who removed the needle and pressed a cotton ball where he had drawn blood. "What did I tell you about doing experiments with my wife?" 

"It'll be cool and I was bored."

"It'll be cool and she was bored. I was bored, and now you're all caught up."

James glanced at the ceiling, summoning the remaining crumbs of his patience as he put his hands in the pockets of his white coat. "She is not a pin cushion whenever you want to get out of clinic hours."

"I know, but she looks so hot doing it."

"This is the last time you run tests on my wife. I mean it."

House slowly nodded, seeing the anger concealed in his eyes. If you weren't in the room, he was sure James would've punched him by now.

"Can we still test this one?" You looked at your husband hopefully.

James waved a hand, "Sure."

You grinned, hopped off the chair, and looped your arm with his as you kissed his cheek. "Love you."

"I love you too. Seriously, no more tests. And no more House."

"Finally, I can catch up on my sleep. Does she always talk that much?" House led the way out of the exam room and you glared at his back as you followed him out of the clinic to the elevator.

"Hey! You asked how my day was going."

"The only acceptable response to that question is one-word answers. I don't need a full account of everything you did, and the people you spoke to."

You looked at your husband, "Can I kick him over?"

"Children, behave." He chuckled when you swatted his chest as you got into the elevator.

"If you don't want to know how my day is going, don't ask. But if you call to whine about a patient I will hang up."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Finer."

"That's not a word." House scoffed, hitting the button with his cane.

You turned to James, tugging on the lapels of his coat, "You have never looked finer." His lips curved upward in amusement when you smugly smirked at House. "It's a word. My husband defines the word."

James placed a hand on your back, shaking his head as you and House continued bickering back and forth, sarcastic remarks bouncing off the elevator walls.

"You know, I really regret the day you two met."

"Me too," House replied.

You turned, hitting his arm.

"Ow!"

James looked at the ceiling, shaking his head with a sigh, although there was a small smile on his lips. Despite the bickering between you and his best friend, he knew you cared about each other. When House invited you to the hospital, he knew it was the cynical doctor's way of bonding with you and ever since you were introduced he had run multiple tests and sometimes fudged the results to make it seem like you had an illness. One day, James had been worried sick, and when House revealed the truth, he had punched him in the hallway. 

House leaned forward to whisper in his ear as you exited the elevator. "Say the word and I will infect her with a disease that will -"

"Don't finish that sentence."

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Never Give Up

Pairing: Rockstar!Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: complete fluff, getting blood drawn so needles and blood

Summary: Jensen is in town for his next concert and visit you for a check-up before performing. You two have known each other for your whole life since his sister is your best friend, and he never fails to ask you out every time he sees you. You’ve always said no. It’s his mission to get you to say yes.

Square Filled: rockstar!jensen (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You grab another vial of blood and mark down in the system which patient of yours this belongs to. Afterward, you place it inside a medical plastic bag and set it off to the side for the lab to pick up later. Today has been non-stop tending to patients, drawing blood, and taking vitals. You’re only halfway through your shift and you feel like your head is going to explode.

“Did you see his post?” another nurse asks as she and her friend walk into the office. “God, he looks so hot. I can’t believe he’s single.”

“I bet he’s fucking random fans every show he does. I could be one of those fans if I got tickets. Can you believe even the nosebleeds are two hundred bucks?”

You don’t need to hear his name to know who they’re talking about. There is only one artist that is big enough in the news right now. He’s been on a steady incline to fame ever since he left Texas for California.

“Do you think he’s good in bed?”

You roll your eyes at that but don’t comment on it. You just want to do your job and go home. You can’t be sitting here thinking about your best friend’s brother and how much of an arrogant bastard he is who thinks the world revolves around him. It doesn’t help that he has a major crush on you, and he isn’t afraid to show it. Besides him telling you every time he calls you how much he likes you, he’ll always try to show you either with flowers, dinner, or other small presents that he has mailed to you.

There isn’t a time that goes by when he’s with you that he doesn’t try and ask you out on a date. If he was just your best friend’s brother, you would consider it. It’s the fact that he’s an up-and-coming rockstar who isn’t near his peak that has you on the edge. You know rockstars. You dated a few of them. All they care about is music, money, and sex. They’ll get it anywhere from any woman who is willing to spread her legs for them. You’re not saying Jensen is like that, but you don’t want to be a notch on his belt.

Still, that doesn’t stop you from using your vibrator and fantasizing about him.

A few days pass without incident when you’re inputting patients into the computer. The same two coworkers who were talking about Jensen before come strolling in with big smiles on their faces.

“What’s got you two looking like that?”

“Jensen is in town for his concert.”

“Did you two get tickets?”

“No, but I know of a way inside. I have someone working security.”

You’d rather not sit here and watch them fangirl over him so you decide to finish your paperwork later and check on the patients. Your best friend, Sabrina, pulls you to the side as soon as she sees you.

“I need you to take the patient in Room 15.”

“Why? That’s your section.”

“Please? I can’t do it.”

“Why?” you ask, your eyes narrowing.

“He’s my brother. They won’t let me work on him.”

Jensen is here. You think about what it might mean if he sees you entering the room and think it’s better than sending the fangirls in there with him.

“Fine. You owe me.” You start to walk away from her with the blood draw supplies and pause. “Don’t tell the other girls. They’ll cause a riot.”

You walk to Room 15 and knock twice before entering. Jensen is sitting on the small table with the paper lined for people’s safety even though half the time, it gets crumbled and tossed out of the way. He is scrolling through his phone but it’s not that that has you staring in awe. He is wearing a tight black shirt that really shows off his muscles and tattoos and dusty blue jeans that you know hug his ass so nicely, all with a backward hat on. His hair peeks out the back of his hat. It was shorter than the last time you saw him.

There’s a new image for your fantasies.

“Growing out your hair, huh?”

Jensen’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice, and he gives you a thousand-watt smile. He immediately puts his phone away so that he can give you all of his attention.

“I was hoping Sabrina would send you in here.”

“Oh, you’re lucky it’s me and not the two fangirls out there. I’m pretty sure one of them wants to have sex with you.”

“What about you? Do you want to have sex with me?”

You smile shyly and grab two latex gloves to start the blood-drawing process. “You wish.”

“Yeah, I do.”

You wrap a tourniquet around his upper arm before grabbing his arm and rubbing the area with an alcohol swab to sterilize the area. Don’t think about his big muscles. Focus, Y/N! You open a packet that contains a new needle and place it where you need to. Without counting down, you stick the needle into his vein and start to grab blood samples.

“So, come here often?” he flirts.

“I work here,” you giggle.

“I know. I just wanted to hear your giggle. So, when am I gonna take you out?”

“Hmm, how about never?” you tease.

“Don’t do that to me, sweetheart. Throw me a bone or something.”

“I’m not even going to comment,” you laugh.

You take out the first vial and shove a new one into the case for more blood.

“I’m serious. When are you gonna let me take you out to a nice dinner? I’ll pay.”

“Oh, you will? How generous of you,” you say sarcastically yet playfully.

“Does that mean yes?”

“No.”

“I’m not gonna stop asking you.”

“You’ll turn blue in the face if you continue that.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “I look good in blue.” You roll your eyes and try to hide your smile knowing he sees it. You finish getting four blood samples before patching him up with a Hello Kitty bandaid. You were just treating two twin little girls and this is all you have. “Nice band-aid.”

“It’s all I have. I can get a different one if you want.”

“No, no, I happen to like Hello Kitty.” You trash your gloves and the needle packet before standing. “Come to my concert.”

“I have to work.”

“No, you don’t. It’s on Saturday and you don’t work the weekends.” You silently curse knowing he’s right. “How about this? I will have a VIP and all-access badge with your name on it. Come if you want. It starts at seven. Are we done here?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Give my love to Sabrina.”

He hops of the table and kisses your cheek as he leaves. The two fangirls see him and fawn over his good looks but when he looks back, it’s at you. He only has eyes for you. He winks and turns to the fangirls who are practically tripping over the other to get to him. He signs what they want to be signed and takes pictures with them before leaving.

Today is only Wednesday but you can’t stop thinking about Jensen and his offer the rest of the week. Saturday comes faster than you’d like, and you find yourself driving with Sabrina to the concert hours before it even starts. There are already people lining up to get to the front of the pit but you bypass the entire parking lot to head to the back where the service entrance is.

“I can’t believe I’m going to this,” you say.

“So, when are you and my brother going to fuck?”

“Sabrina!”

“What? If anyone should be with him, it’s you. That boy is in love with you.”

“No, he’s not. He thinks he is because I don’t want him.”

“Does telling yourself that help you sleep at night?”

“Sabrina… He’s a rockstar. He’s a famous rockstar. He doesn’t want some rundown nurse. He could have anyone.”

“Yeah, but he wants you.”

You’re torn because you do want Jensen. He’s every girl’s dream. Even if he wasn’t a rockstar or famous, you’ve known him since you two were kids. You grew up together. You know who the real Jensen is, the one he doesn’t show anyone else. Still, there is that nagging feeling that he'll dump you once he gets bored with you. 

All of your exes did.

You show security both your IDs and he hands you and Sabrina your access badges before directing you where to park. After you two get out, you follow security to the back where the band is hanging out. You’ve gotten to know Jensen’s band a little over the years. They’re nice guys.

“Bean!” Jensen turns and grins when he sees his sister. His drummer has a major crush on your friend and has called her Bean ever since she told him she hated it. They’re in the “will they, won’t they?” stage but everyone knows they’re gonna be endgame. “Where’ve you been?”

“I told you not to call me that,” she rolls her eyes and hugs her brother. 

“And I told you I don’t care. I like how you blush when I do,” he smirks.

Jensen’s gaze goes over to you and he visibly relaxes at the sight of you. He walks over to you and takes off his hat so that his hair falls over his face.

“Hi, Jensen.” He smiles but doesn’t answer you. “What, cat got your tongue? I know I’m breathtaking but come on.”

“He doesn’t speak before a show to preserve his voice. He has breathing exercises to do,” Josh, the drummer, says.

“What a blessing,” you joke.

Jensen pulls you in for a hug, and you allow this minute to really feel him. His arms have always felt so safe around you, and you find yourself relaxing into his body. He pulls away and takes out his phone to text you since he takes his voice exercises seriously. Your phone pings and you look at the message he sent.

I love that you’re here.

You blush under his gaze and try but fail to hide your smile.

“You know I would have come.”

You and Sabrina leave for the VIP tent on the floor while the band gets ready. The opener comes out and does her performance which gives you time to enjoy the music and get some food before Jensen comes on stage. Since you and Sabrina are on Jensen and Josh’s social media, you’re both easily recognizable. Fans come up to the tent to chat and take pictures with you two. You never had a desire for fame but it’s nice to know you’ve made someone’s day just by saying hi to them.

The entire stadium goes dark and the intro to the concert begins. Immediately, the entire crowd cheers for Jensen. He walks on stage in a different outfit than when you saw him earlier, and you have to admit he looks really good. He’s wearing a classic muscle shirt that definitely shows off how much he’s been working out and his tattoos. Gone is his hat so that his hair can flop around freely.

His eyes immediately find the VIP tent, and he smiles when he sees you. You’ve seen his concerts over TikTok Lives and other social media platforms but nothing beats the real thing. He sings each song with passion like he means every word he’s singing. There is a long catwalk where he walks, and all the girls fawn over him whenever he gives them two seconds of his attention.

By the time he’s at the halfway point of his concert, your feet are hurting from how much you’re dancing and your ears are ringing from how loud it is, but you love it. Jensen is in the middle of a song when he suddenly stops and takes out one of his earpieces.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he pants. The band stops playing and everyone quiets down in confusion, including you. He’s never done this at any of his other concerts. “I’ll get back to the music in a second. I just want to say this is a very special concert because there is someone very special here tonight.”

“Oh, my God,” Sabrina gasps.

“Her name is Y/N and she’s right over there in the VIP tent.” The camera pans over to your shocked face so that everyone in the stadium can see. Sabrina can’t stop smiling. “You see, we’ve been friends since we were kids and she doesn’t know this but I am absolutely crazy for her.”

Cheers erupt throughout the stadium, and you shake your head at Jensen with a smile.

“Now, I’ve asked her this many times but she’s always said no to me. I don’t think she’ll be able to say no in a room full of eighty thousand people. Someone get her a microphone. I want to hear her answer.” Jensen waits for someone to bring you a microphone. “Y/N, will you let me take you to a really nice dinner date?”

You wait for the crowd to quiet down a bit before giving your answer.

“No,” you smile sweetly. “You just won’t take no for an answer.”

“You’re right. I won’t.” He drags one of the barstools to the middle of the stage and sits on it. “That’s why we’re not continuing until you say yes.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am, sweetheart. I won’t sing another song until you say yes. What do you say, Los Angeles? Should she say yes to me?” Almost every fan in the stadium including Sabrina cheers for you two. “See? Even they think you should.”

“Well if they think we should…”

“Is that a yes?”

“No,” you grin.

“Alright.” Jensen sits and drums his fingers on his legs patiently. “I wonder what I’m going to do next weekend. I think I should take up fishing. My dad always brought me but I never appreciated it before.”

“You’re seriously going to sit there and not continue your concert?” you ask.

“Put everyone out of their misery and just say yes to the date. Come on, everyone. Y/N! Y/N!”

Everyone starts chanting your name, and Sabrina tugs on your arm to grab your attention.

“Has any of your exes done this for you? What are you scared of?”

She’s right. None of your rockstar boyfriends have ever stopped a concert for you. None of them even mentioned you were there. Jensen doesn’t have to say it but he is in love with you and you’re in love with him.

“Fine. Fine. Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Yes!” Jensen cheers. You hand the microphone back to the stadium worker, and Jensen puts the earpiece back in. “This next song is for you, sweetheart.”

And he plays the song he wrote for you in high school.

x

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[blingblong55]

Hungry Eyes-141&König NSFW

Photo Credit: @ave661

Based on a request: Can I request a headcanon of Minx Fem!Reader with 141 and König, please?  Reader walking around in the base with Red dress, tight fit and high slit thigh. Blood red lipstick saying hello to them boys, salivate. Tq!!  ---- F!Reader, minx!reader, 18+, MDNI, smut ----

You knew what you did to the men of the team, they did too but they can't stop it. Not like they want to anyway. 

It's your day off today and what do you do? Play tricks with them, which is more like a hobby to pass the time. The first thing you do is put on some hormone oil behind your ears and rub it on your wrists. You get yourself ready, a red dress on your gorgeous body, black heels and that red lipstick that drives them crazy. What more can a girl do but watch men thirst over her beauty? Worship, that can be one thing. 

John Price: 

When you walk into his office so he can 'help' you zip your dress up, his breath catches in his throat. 

"Everything okay?" you ask with a smirk. "Yes, uh..yes" his voice tried to play pretend while inside he would die to touch you and fuck that pretty body of yours.  

As you walk past him, all he can do is stare at that ass of yours. The dress made it hard for him to miss the perfect shape of it. 

He groans and walks to his office. "Where are ya going?" Gaz questions. "Have a meeting over the phone," is all Price has to say. 

In his office, the blinds are drawn close, his trousers pulled to his ankle and his boxers are the only thing that keeps his dick from coming out and tempting him to please it. 

"Fuck, Y/N," a groan escapes his lips and he shakes his head. His hands are on his fat cock, stroking it as he pictures those curves of yours.

His fist holding his cock tight, picturing your sweet cunt wrapped around it. Your tits bounce and that red mouth opens as you suck his fingers. What a sight it would be

"Shit...f-fuck" he stammers as pre-cum leaks down his hand. 

His eyes shut close, teeth biting down his lower lip to prevent himself from moaning your name. 

Before he knows it, he moans your name as he cums. His fat cock leaking the one thing he wished your cunt would be filled with. 

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He tries to be respectful at first but then his eyes wander your body. Hear rises and he shrugs, trying to play it cool. 

When you leave the room and all men head their ways, he finds himself in his room. 

As he strokes his cock, in his other hand, your pink lace panties. He sniffs them and groans, "Fuck, the things you do to me." 

Your scent and the mental image this man formed of you getting fucked by him was too much that soon, he was moaning your name. 

He bit down his bottom lip to prevent any more noise but knowing that maybe you could hear him moan your name was enough to make him keep going. 

Just as he sniffed your panties and the smell consumed him, his cum leaked out, coating his hands and just like always, he cleaned it with your panties, something to hand to you later on. 

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Feral, that is the one word that smile and those curves of yours made him feel.  

Those red lips were enough to have him picture your mouth wrapped around his fat cock. 

Unlike the other men, Gaz was a little more smart in how he pictured you, well...he had that one picture you sent him of the aftermath of a rough mission. 

The exhaustion in your face was enough to have him stroking himself, his balls tightening. Groans and small whimpers would escape when he imagined all the things he would do to you if only you gave him the chance. 

The taste of your sweet cunt, that is the one thing that had him going over the edge and sending you a rather risky text.

"I know you, so just cum for me." As soon as he read the text, he leaned back on his bed, his fist pumping his every needy cock. "Fuck Y/N...such a dirty thing for me," he moans as he cums to simple orders. 

John "Soap" MacTavish:

He's the pervy one, so because of this, he gets himself in your quarters, lays in your bed and undresses. 

Bold, stupid, horny, sexy and smart, that is what you can describe him as since all he does lately is seem to just please himself to you. 

As he lays in your bed, he pulls out his little toy. Your name is carved to the side of the fleshlight. His sensitive pressing against the entrance. 

He chuckles deeply and sighs, "Let me fill you up, bonnie." 

Without any hesitation, he fucks the fleshlight, his cock enjoying the sensation, his body shuddering as he positions himself on his knees, fucking his cock into the toy. 

With his free hand, his phone is pressed to record. And as he records himself moaning your name over and over, he makes sure to angle the camera so you can see clearly how the toy is getting filled. 

By the time he cums, the moans turn to subtle whimpers of your name and some slight curses under his breath. 

König:

The built-up tension on his trousers was too much that soon, he is in a stall, sitting down and stroking himself as he tries to keep quiet. 

The little red dress, the way your soft tits moved as you walked and that goddamn smile you had when you knew he was watch, fuck are you a view for hungry eyes. 

His boxers get covered in pre-cum and all he can do is continue because he needs this, he needs to cum to the thought of you. 

Your soft thighs, that is what he focuses on the most and as he does, he pictures his cock in between them. He would hold you from behind while his cock releases cum on your pretty thighs. 

He feels his orgasm building up and he covers his mouth as he mutes the moans he wishes you heard. 

His cum ruining his boxers and soon enough, he leans back and sighs. 

A/N: Happy Valentines Day, enjoy this and please yourself like they did ;)

Tags: @fanofstuffidk @kas-mccoy07 @mikaronn @love-simon @imasimpsowhat06 @sae1kie @bittermajesties @cross-axis @ess-perspective @thatonepupkai @lake-lili @lovelyvqer @pasanau4 @merivalowrites @luvecarson @goldenmclaren @maylovessyou @kit-kats06 @cookiefanhere @nunezr29 @cringeycookies @liyanahelena @deni-sova @johfaam0 @froggy-anon @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @istillcantfindausername @iruzias @frizzseaberries @idklols @katybaby00 @spicypicklesoh @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @undercover-smutlover @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @nobodys-coffee @honestlyhiswife @enarien @simonssweetgirl @willowaftxn83-87 @coralwitchdreamland @ikohniik @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @anonymuslydumb @avidreadee123 @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties

[ruiniel]

What You Choose

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x f!reader

Count: 2K

Rating: T (M later)

On AO3

Summary: I recently watched/read KNY and have emotions. Likely done before, but wanted to get this out of my system so wrote it down. Rengoku survives the fight with Akaza, but some battles are not so straightforward.

Tags & Warnings: Rengoku lives AU, multichapter, blood, injury, pining, angst, second person POV, demon slayer!reader, tsuguko!reader, alternating POV, Oblivious Rengoku Kyojuro, for a while at least, Death, Mild Gore, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

All characters depicted are 18+

I.

Everything fades. His body is going numb, his vision blurs as he stares down at his reflection in the dark pool of his own blood, unable to lift his head. The cries of grief surrounding him become dim and scatter like dying leaves from his consciousness.  

I've done my duty, I've given my all.

The last he remembers is a small, clawed hand and a sudden, blooming flame bursting through his shattered torso, scalding him from within in ways his own fire never could. 

I see... So this is what it feels like… to burn. 

The balmy weather outside has no effect on you, seated at the side of the infirmary bed, your head in your hands. 

“Perhaps you should go and rest. There’s been no change, and we’ll be sure to inform you of any developments.” 

Aoi’s words are void of their usual sternness. You’ve heard them before, and yet—

“I’m fine, I really am.” You gaze back at the prone figure lying motionless beneath crisp white sheets. His gold and crimson hair is messy, and you’ve never seen him so pale, his features so sunken. The bandage covering his left eye is stained red in places, the usually smiling lips dry and bloodless.

Aoi sighs but says nothing else, and soon her departing steps echo against the walls.

I can’t. I can’t leave his side. You wish your thought could reach him, down to whatever place he’s struggling in now. You ball your hands into fists over your knees, a poor attempt at holding your composure. Please, come back. Please.

Weeks have passed since the mission on the train, since your group has returned with wounded bodies and spirits, though none in such a critical state as your mentor. Rengoku Kyojuro has not awakened since, and in contrast, since the nightmares the demon has placed upon you in that baleful encounter, you’ve not been able to sleep more than two to three hours every night. Every time, waking up in a sweat, the memory of what happened always the last image you remember. 

“How is he today?”

You’re drawn from your thought by the gentle voice of the person you feel like you owe a life of debt to, and turn to gaze into the tired, worried eyes of Tanjiro Kamado. He stands by the bed now, glancing down at the Hashira. The slow rise and fall of his chest is the only sign that he is still alive. 

You shake your head as Tanjiro takes a seat. “How is rehabilitation training going?” 

Tanjiro smiles, still staring at the bed and its unresponsive occupant. “Almost done, I feel my strength returning to what it used to be and more. I admire how well you’ve upheld yourself, though,” he murmurs. 

It’s true, for some reason, you’ve been the least scathed of them all, needing much less medical care than the rest. No, you know the reason why. “It’s because of him,” your words escape you. “If… if he hadn’t trained me as he did, if he hadn’t driven me so far beyond my limits, I don’t know if I would have survived for as long as I have in my role.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard. They say Lord Rengoku’s methods are… harsh to say the least.”

A smile tugs at your lips as a known pain pricks your heart. “But… but I’ve been remiss in thanking you, young Kamado—or rather, your sister. If she hadn’t…”  Your throat tightens; you don’t want to break down, not here, not before Tanjiro and not before him, no matter he can’t hear it. 

“Please, please don’t worry, it was a stroke of luck and quick thinking on her part, I only brought the box closer—”

“... she healed him! I saw the flames engulfing him, I saw the wound close. I don’t know how she did it but… Nezuko is someone... very special.”

Tanjiro lowers his head in humble acknowledgement. “I will tell her.” Then, as though remembering something, he reaches into his pocket and hands you a small bag. “Here, I’ve not seen you join meals very often and… well, please take them.”

You don’t have the strength to refuse, and take the bag from his hand, meeting his kind smile. “Candies…”  You thank him before placing them on the bedstand, and after a few more moments of sitting in comfortable silence, Tanjiro takes his leave. You watch him depart, endeared by his manner and honesty. He has a good soul, a strong will—perhaps the strongest you’ve known, apart from…

You stare back at your mentor, memories of the past flooding behind your eyes.

Five months prior

“Good! Again!”

You’re panting, your total concentration breathing nearly failing as you evade another deadly arc of the Third Form: Blazing Universe. 

The sun has westered and a bluish twilight sets over the lands, but your mentor still has you parrying his unwavering techniques, before making you attack using combinations of them in turn. 

“Lord—lord Rengoku—”

His blazing speed cuts your words short as your blades clash, and you stare into bright, golden-rimmed irises. He’s smiling, as usual, with a devilish spark in his eyes. There is a sudden flutter in your stomach, overriding the fatigue in your burning muscles. “Come now, don’t tell me you’re beat! You’ve come so far after only three years!” he says as you fall back, lunging for another attack the following second.

The sudden weakness you feel when you’re close to him has you confused, because it was not there before. It all began in the past year: whenever he stares at you in a certain way, whenever he touches you during training or meets your eyes, something gnaws achingly at your chest. It’s as though you need something from him, but have no idea what it is. 

“I knew it from the moment I took you on as a successor,” he says, merciless in his offensive. “If you—” Parry. Lunge. “—carry on like this—” Attack. Jump. “—you’ll reach a Hashira level of skill in no time at all!” 

You don’t have the chance to reply, though his words feel like honey coating your senses. At first, he’d been sparse and strict, keeping to instructions and nothing else. But you struggled, worked harder than you had for anything in all your life, and it seems he acknowledges this fully now. 

“Now—Ninth Form: Rengoku!” 

That means you must attack, and he must deflect. But—Ninth Form?! “I—I can’t, I’m… I’m too exhausted for the Ninth!”

He bursts forward with Unknowing Fire, forcing you to duck and curl your body, rolling away into the dust, rising on one knee. 

The Flame Hashira turns, pointing his weapon at you. “Is that what you plan on telling the demons?”

“Well, no, but—”

“At no point during a battle will you have the luxury of biding your time. If this were an actual encounter, you’d be dead.” He no longer smiles, his face turned cold, eyes glinting like molten steel.

You feel the rush of shame like fangs biting into you, fueling a horrible need to prove him wrong, to rise up to the challenge in his voice. With a hiss and a groan you grip the handle of your katana tightly, breathing and striving to light that spark in your heart. 

With a cry you speed forward, clashing with him in a desperate lunge. 

“Ha!” The smile returns as you grit your teeth. “Better!”

His face is so close to yours again, so close you feel the rush of his breath on your cheek. 

Your knees feel weak again, and you close your eyes, pushing forward in an attempt to skew his balance. 

What the hell is happening to you? 

“Faster, the fire is still weak! It must rage!” the Hashira says, grinning like a madman now, and where once you enjoyed the path of learning and reaching your full potential, now his attitude brings forth an ache that confuses you and leaves you anxious.

Even so. Your blades sing against each other as you lunge back in a high jump, landing in a lowered stance with one palm braced against the earth. Your uniform is wet on your back, and you’re closer to your breaking point than you've ever been.

But the thought of disappointing him, now that feels unbearable. So you do what you always do: you push yourself more, more, harnessing all your strength into one melting core, bathing your heart in it and firing up your veins. 

You attack.

He laughs outright. “Not bad, but—” Your swords clash, fiercer than before. “I know you can do better, and you can be faster.”

“I’m doing all I can!” you yell, at the end of your tether now. It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last. But he takes no offense, he never does, and that's one of the things you appreciate about him. “But you—you make it impossible! You always want more, even if you know I’m not ready for it!”

It must be the fire rushing through you that has you speaking this way, daring to say such words despite knowing full well what you were in for, when you accepted to become his successor. 

“Wait until you’re ready, and you will never improve!” the Flame Hashira throws back.

A growl leaves your throat as you fall back then speed towards him again, trying the Second then the Third form in succession sloppily but you’re past caring. 

Your arms feel as though they will tear and your bones might splinter as you crash against his unwavering stance, and you meet his scarlet-gold gaze as he speaks softly, his voice imbued with warmth: “You can surpass the impossible. I believe in you.” 

Your eyes widen, that damned ache ringing through your body like a weakening poison and—

For one split second, your stance weakens, and you’re thrown back, losing your balance and falling heavily onto the ground. 

Rengoku stares down at you, tilting his head to the side with a strange look on his face as he sheathes his katana. 

Your vision sways, your lungs might burst. You barely clutch at the helping hand extended to you, aiding you to your feet. He grasps your shoulders. “What happened there just now? Your focus melted like wax.”

“I…” You can’t look him in the eye. His hands on you diffuse heat, permeating through your clothing. It feels good. It scares you. “I don’t… know.”

“Tomorrow, again,” he says, releasing you. “Please do better. Remember we’re doing this for you, but foremost for the people.”

“Understood,” you murmur, biting back tears as you watch him walk away.

Midnight has arrived when you end your reverie, thinking about that emotion that took root in your body and spirit, growing stronger as time passed. And you never dared tell him, never dared facing it nor can you explain why. You take a deep breath, leaned with your arms folded on the edge of the bed, your forehead resting on them. You never told him, and now… 

And now with each day I’m losing hope.

Your shoulders are shaking, and your eyes sting. There is no one else here but you and him, the long chamber of empty beds the only witness to your breakdown. 

You’re so absorbed by despair, you don’t perceive the faint movement, or the hand gently placed on your head.

“... Why are you crying?”

You choke on a silent sob, blinking in shock at the low, throaty voice, broken with disuse. Slowly, you raise your head.

He's staring at you, a bleak smile on his lips, and you're utterly, incomprehensibly frozen.

“You… you’re awake?” It feels like the dumbest of questions: your body knows the truth before your mind catches up. 

“That… depends. Are you really here?” he asks in turn. 

You nod, biting on your lower lip and wiping your eyes with your sleeve. “Yes, yes I am.”

The smile wavers for a moment as he grimaces in pain. “Oh, I see. Then… it seems… you’re not rid of me yet.”

All the gods in all the world couldn’t keep the emotions flooding you at bay, and you shake your head as warm tears flow down your face. 

PART II

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A Writer on Writing: Italo Calvino

Italo Calvino:

A fine thing it is to have a distant friend who writes long letters full of drivel and to be able to reply to him with equally lengthy letters full of drivel.

The poet turns in on himself, tries to pin down what he has seen and felt, then pulls it out so that others can understand it. But I can’t understand these things: these discourses about the ego and the non-ego I leave to you. Yes, I understand, there’s the struggle to express the inexpressible, typical of modern art, and these are all fine things, but I …

I’m a regular guy, I like well-defined outlines, I’m old-fashioned, bourgeois. My stories are full of facts, they have a beginning and an end. For that reason they will never be able to find success with the critics, nor occupy a place in contemporary literature. I write poetry when I have a thought that I absolutely have to bring out, I write to give vent to my feelings and I write using rhyme because I like it, tum-tetum tumtetum tum te-tum, because I’ve got no ear, and poetry without rhyme or meter seems like soup without salt, and I write (mock me, you crowds! Make me a figure of public scorn!) I write … sonnets … and writing sonnets is boring, you have to find rhymes, you have to write hendecasyllables so after a while I get bored and my drawer is overflowing with unfinished short poems.

I’m still too ignorant to write articles and as for my output of short stories, a famous summer of overproduction has been followed by years of crisis. … All the ideas currently in my head are subject to a strange phenomenon: while I work on them and perfect them continuously from the philosophical point of view, they stay rudimentary and barely sketched on the dramatic and artistic side. In my creativity thought has the upper hand over imagination.

When you’re working you get buried, drowned under things. You’ve no more friends nor art. Only when you’ve an evening or afternoon free can you roam the streets or court a girl. That’s all. In short, working is pointless. I mean, from the point of view of education. But it’s essential. I cannot — and I don’t want to — live the writer’s life, that is to say write for a living. The novel I was writing, which for months and months had sucked all my blood (because, stubborn as I am, I was determined to finish it even though I no longer felt it was going anywhere), is dead, awful, full of wonderful clever things but desperately bad, forced, it’ll never work and I must not finish it. And I must not write for some time now otherwise I’d make more mistakes. I hope that Einaudi will publish my short stories eventually, they’re the only thing I believe in and which I believe are useful.

For seven or eight months now I’ve been mucking about with a novel that I began in a moment of weakness and it’s turning out to be very bad, causing me to waste lots of my time. But at least it’ll get rid of my desire to write novels for four or five years, which is what I dream of doing, and will allow me to study kind of seriously and learn to write decently.

To write well about the elegant world you have to know it and experience it to the depths of your being just as Proust, Radiguet and Fitzgerald did: what matters is not whether you love it or hate it, but only to be quite clear about your position regarding it.

My problem today is how to escape from the limits of these books, from this definition of me as a writer of adventures, fairy-tales, and fun, in which I can’t express myself or realize myself to the full.

The fact is that I already feel I am a prisoner of a kind of style and it is essential that I escape from it at all costs: I’m now trying to write a totally different book, but it’s damned difficult; I’m trying to break up the rhythms, the echoes which I feel the sentences I write eventually slide into, as into pre-existing molds, I try to see facts and things and people in the round instead of being drawn in colors that have no shading. For that reason the book I’m going to write interests me infinitely more than the other one.

One should never have taboos about the tools we use, that as long as the thought or images or style one wants to put forward do not become deformed by the medium, one must on the contrary try to make use of the most powerful and most efficient of those tools.

You can imagine how slowly my fictional output has been going this summer, you who know how much labor, dissatisfaction, irritability, uncertainty this work costs … However — and this is the point — it is worth it. Or rather: one does not ask if it’s worth it.

We are people, there is no doubt, who exist solely insofar as we write, otherwise we don’t exist at all. Even if we did not have a single reader any more, we would have to write; and this not because ours can be a solitary job, on the contrary it is a dialog we take part in when we write, a common discourse, but this dialog can still always be supposed to be taking place with authors of the past, with authors we love and whose discourse we are forcing ourselves to develop, or else with those still to come, those we want through our writing to configure in one particular way rather than another. I am exaggerating: heaven help those who write without being read; for that reason there are too many people writing today and one cannot ask for indulgence for someone who has little to say, and one cannot allow trade-union or corporate sympathies.

Even more annoying are those who theorize that the novel has to be like this or like that, that one must write the novel, etc. Let them go to hell! How much energy is wasted in Italy in trying to write the novel that obeys all the rules. The energy might have been useful to provide us with more modest, more genuine things, that had less pretensions: short stories, memoirs, notes, testimonials, or at any rate books that are open, without a preconceived plan.

Personally, I believe in fiction because the stories I like are those with a beginning and an end. I try to write them as they best come to me, depending on what I have to say. We are in a period when in literature and especially in fiction one can do anything, absolutely anything, and all styles and methods coexist. What the public (and also the critics) require are books (“open” novels) that are rich in substance, density, tension.

As a young man my aspiration was to become a “minor writer.” (Because it was always those that are called “minor” that I liked most and to whom I felt closest.) But this was already a flawed criterion because it presupposes that “major” writers exist. Basically, I am convinced that not only are there no “major” or “minor” writers, but writers themselves do not exist — or at least they do not count for much.

I found this letter that I had started to write yesterday evening and I reread it with interest. Dammit, what a lot of drivel I managed to write! In the end it’s impossible to understand anything in it. But better that way: the less one understands the more posterity will appreciate my profundity of thought. In fact, let me say: POSTERITY IS STUPID Think how annoyed they’ll be when they read that!

[velaenaa]

strawberry chocolate parfait \ nanami kento x reader (ch.2)

word count: 2.1k tags: slight slow burn, pining, romance, fluff, added as i go! setting: you are a worker at a bakery that nanami kento frequents ♡ chapter: 2/?<previous/next>

Chapter 2 - Blueberry Pie

The next day rolls around as you jump out of bed. You sluggishly turn the faucet on as you prepare to wash yourself. After that warm and slow shower you blow dried your hair, styling as you went. Next, you grabbed some oatmeal you made overnight, then ran out of your apartment. 

You unlock the front door of the bakery and you’re greeted by the warm smell of freshly made croissants. Everyday had different options, and today was; croissants, fruit tarts, sandwiches made to go, etc. The store was in a particularly popular spot so to keep customers engaged they changed up the menu every day. They were surrounded by business and tourism greatly attributes.

 It was your turn to be in the back today, there was a big shipment coming in and you had to count and stock everything. Thereafter, you were going to stock up the front and then study. You were basically there today as needed. 

-

Your supervisor walks in as you put up the last of the boxes of sugar the store received, “Hey Y/N, someone was asking for you.” 

You didn’t expect anyone so you simply complied and walked out to the floor. As you walked out the door you locked eyes with Nanami, and you just smiled like a goofball. 

“Hi Nanami-san! How can I help you?” Nanami looks down at you and nods, “Good morning, I have a request- if you could.”

He held up the custom creation paperwork and of course you could! He wanted a Strawberry Chocolate Parfait. 

You carefully packaged the delicate dessert up and slid it over to him. As you did, you had a look of timidness that Nanami definitely picked up on. He took a leap of faith and opened his mouth, “Is there something wrong?”  You snapped out of your look and grin sheepishly at him.

“Ah.. I was wondering if you…were…..busy… this weekend?”  He just looked at you silently, but he was really just thinking about if he had any plans this weekend. The silence scared you and you started panicking, “That was so forward, I'm so sorry!” 

“No you’re okay. I am not busy this weekend.” He simply states. 

“Well.. my friends and I are going to a karaoke bar…. Would you like to go with us?” 

‘Oh hell, what’s the harm..’ 

“Yes, if you’d like to have me.” Nanami says smoothly, causing your body temperature to rise.

“O-of course!” 

“Of course that means I have to get your number.”

This made all the blood circulation come to a halt when he said that.  You nod, your smile starting to show. This man was just really tugging on your heartstrings. He was just going all in. He was really enjoying your company, even though he won’t quite say it right now, he did really like the way you made him feel; alive…domestic…familial. He also associated you with bakeries and desserts, so of course he was drawn to. It was way too early to tell but he definitely likes to see you around, hence why he was way more interactive towards you than anyone else.

It wasn’t quite like you to act so flushed. 

He gave you his phone and you gave it your all to put your number down and your name. He calls your phone so you get his number as well, and after that exchange he nods at you and you swore you could see the small smile. 

“Well.. I’ll see you soon. Take care.” 

With that he disappears out the door and leaves you breathless and speechless. 

Queue the ladies peeking out the door like animated cartoons with their ‘oohs’ and ‘ahh’ at the interaction. Your lungs screamed with excitement.

“Soo.. Y/N… what’s going on with you and Nanami-san?” You shake your head furiously, “It’s not like that!”

“Oh please! You just invited him out! You barely do that with us!” Okay touche.

There was no fighting these girls. You just took it like a champ, and besides, it was amusing.

-

You finally finished work for the day so you were going to go home. You were about to text Nobara until you saw a text message that was sent a while ago.. You checked it and it was Nanami. You hadn’t gotten around to saving his info, so while you were free you did just that.

[Txt] Nanami - Hello, it’s Nanami. 

[Txt] Y/N - Did you make it to your work safely?

It made Nanami feel a little warm seeing that text. You barely knew each other and you were so concerned for his safety. How sweet.

[Txt] Nanami - I went home. Thank you for your concern.

You put your phone down briefly to get your bag and walk out to your car. Once you got into your car you saw another message from Nanami;

[Txt] Nanami - How are you?

[Txt] Y/N - I am about to go home, I am exhausted. I have to start my studies, after I shower and make dinner. 

You put your phone down and started your drive. It was about a ~10 minute drive. It was so nice to decompress in your car after a long busy day. You day dreamed about the interactions you had today with Nanami and it made you feel giddy. It had been a wonderful day.

You got out of your car and headed inside your apartment. Upon entering you took  your phone out and started texting Nanami as you did your evening duties.

[Txt] Nanami - You go to school? What for?

[Txt] Y/N - To become a teacher!

That struck his soul. That was a very sweet thing to be doing. 

[Txt] Y/N - You?

[Txt] Nanami - Oh I'm not in college anymore. I’m a businessman.

Oh that explains his nice suits. 

[Txt] Y/N - Do you enjoy your work?

He couldn’t really say he does, and he absolutely hates when he's put on overtime. As he thinks about it he receives another msg from you with a laughing emoji. It made him crack a little smile as if he could hear you laughing in front of him. 

[Txt] Y/N - I get it, secrets safe with me.

This earned him a chuckle. He was getting ready to wind down himself and he was about to text you until you beat him to it once again,

[Txt] Y/N - I have to get ready for bed, so sorry for the late response!

[Txt] Nanami - It’s alright, I am going to go to bed myself. Have a good night.

[Txt] Y/N - You too Nanami-san!

He promised he would take it easier on himself, so it wouldn’t hurt to indulge his romance bone if he had one of those…Wait- was he already thinking of romance? 

He flushes with red and puts his face in the pillow for thinking that way. Nobody is there to see him act this way (Except the narrator) 

Friend Bone

Let’s start there.

In the Y/N Household you were beaming as you read the convo over and over again. The feeling you had wasn’t something you were used to. It had been a while since you would flirt or do anything past your boundaries regarding another person that wasn’t meant to be platonic. Hell, even Gojo tries to get your number and you deny him. His six eyes couldn’t see that coming and he bawls, faking, of course. You know it is all in good fun. He's nice, he can be sweet, he's handsome as hell, but well.. The connection doesn’t seem to be there, and he always liked to mess with you, so you never understood when he was being serious, thus never giving it a thought. Plus there were just too many women who wanted a piece of him, and so you’ve concluded that they could have him. 

But you missed the hand holding.. The dates.. The ‘I love yous’.. You were such a hopeless romantic. The feeling that you might have a possible romance is crazy to you.. But your eyes widened, you weren’t even fully friends yet! Why such thoughts?!

By the time you were done overthinking you had gotten ready to shower. You notice a blush had crept its way up on your face as you stared at yourself in the mirror. This is a crush for sure. Your heart skipped, your breath leaves your body when he's around, you flutter your lashes more, AND, you blush when he texts you?! Yeah, no doubt. 

-

Daylight rolls and Nanami wakes up to a text message from you;

[Txt] Y/N - Good Morning! Make it a good day today!

This made him feel, for the lack of a better word, fuzzy. Nobody sends him good morning texts, not even Yuji, mostly because Yuji doesn’t even wake up this early nor does he have Nanami’s number. 

Nanami stares at the message for a lot longer than he should’ve and texts back.

[Txt] Nanami - Good morning, Y/N. Thank you, I hope you have a good day.”

He gets up and starts his routine, then heads to the location where he was needed to aid Yuji. 

-

When Nanami was in the eyeshot of Yuji he rushed to his mentor. “Nanamin! We are going out this weekend, you should come with us!” He remains silent and goes past him, “I will be busy this weekend.” Yuji pouts but doesn’t protest. He knew that would be futile with Nanami.

With the two of them they make quick work of the curses that were in the school. Nanami couldn’t wait to get off and go get him some freshly baked croissants, maybe with a hot chocolate. It is a cold day after all.

-

Your coworker brought in her daughter today. A very polite mannered child, she assists her mom with taking cash from patrons.

You were putting the food up today, which consisted of; cheese danishes, mocha bread, buttercream bread, matcha cupcakes, and chocolate croissants. 

You were in the  middle of arranging the food, silently praising yourself for making it look so aesthetically pleasing, when the door jingles. Your head snapped back so fast, and it was Gojo, bee lining it towards you. 

“Y/N!” he shouts with his big ol’ grin. He gives you a head pat, “I thought i’d stop by and say hi.” 

This caused her coworkers to peek around the counter to look at the two. You grinned sheepishly and took his hand off your head, “Gojo-san you’re messing up my hair.” you pouted, and he pouted back, dropping his arms. “How’s life been?” You go to speak but you tilt your head, “Gojo-san.. I don’t want to be rude but I am in the middle of work right now..”

“There’s no customer right now…”

“That’s not the point..” 

Here he goes faking his sadness, “Loosen up, Y/N. You hurt me. I came to see you! Do you hate me?” You shake your head furiously, “I’m just teasing.” Then he relaxes after, “Do you want to hang out after work? 

‘Hm.. Why is he asking all of a sudden?’

“I have to study for my test tonight..”

“I can help you if you want?” 

“Gojo why are you so persistent?” He just shrugs

“I think you’re cute and I wanted to get to know you better.” He said it so cooly and that causes your eyes to widen, blushing furiously, “You can’t say things like that!” Gojo just laughs again, “Ah.. I’m only messing with you..” here he goes again. The worst part was it made your heart skip just a tiny bit.

He turns his back to you and heads to the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

Ack, the nerve of that guy..

“Oh, Y/N…” You didn’t even have time to finish your task, your head snapped at the counter, your coworkers making their way towards you.

“Who is this Gojo man!?” They ask but then they start talking amongst themselves

“He’s way cuter than Nanami..”

“Really? I think Nanami-san is so much more handsome…”

“They’re just friends.” You interject, and that was the truth. The older ladies don’t see that though. They just giggle and disperse into the back. You finally  got back to the task at hand and finished it.

You head into the back and you look at the team board. 

‘Team Gojo or Team Nanami?!’

“Oh my g- what is wrong with them?”

They were putting their magnets on which team they were on, and you just rolled your eyes before stepping towards the board and jokingly putting your own magnet towards Team Nanami. The ladies grasped.

[thetxtdevil]

The Phlebotomist pt. 1

Yeonjun x Reader

summary: Phlebotomists are medical professionals who are trained to do blood draws. However, this phlebotomist is a vampire who stole your heart.

content: suggestive, blood duh, medical and bar setting, vampire yeonjun, human female reader, innocent reader, human world w/ mystical creatures

word count: 1.1k

Your nerves were on high, feet were bouncing annoying the person sitting next to you. You were in the doctors office for a check-up and agreed to do a blood test as part of your screening. Why did you agree to this you should've said no, you thought to yourself. The scent of the sanitized waiting room was giving you a migraine until you hear your name being called.

"y/n, l/n?"

You look up and froze. Why was a model in scrubs and why was he calling your name? The handsome man called your name again looking around for the patient. Then you remembered that you should get up. The man watches you stumble out of your chair and smiles to himself.

"Are you y/n? I am Yeonjun I'll be taking your labs today"

You nod and follow the model-like phlebotomist to another room.

"Here is your seat, I will be preparing the supplies"

You sat down on the chair and watch him as you roll your sleeves up. God he was beautiful, the maroon scrubs fit his toned body so nicely and went well with his raven black hair that outlined his sharp features.

"Are you nervous?"

You nod while Yeonjun admires your arm looking for a right spot.

"don't worry I have good aim" he winks

Your face was probably as red as your blood being drawn. Was he really flirting with you at this time?

Little did you know phlebotomist Yeonjun is a vampire. He is old enough in vampire years to know how to control himself along with humans. He stumbled upon a brochure advertising to become a phlebotomist, he was hesitant until he saw that all they do is to be around blood. He found that this job actually calms his urges to hunt and theres a program in the hospital that help mystical creatures like him. So he gets a discount on leftover donated blood bags something about "thank you for saving lives instead of killing them"

You take a deep breath as Yeonjun pokes your arm. You’re too nervous to notice him as he finds himself frozen by your scent. Yeonjun's pupils dilate over the sweet scent of your blood. Never in his years of doing this job did he get exhilarated by a patient.

yes it satisfied his needs but this…

this was different

Yeonjun continues doing his job debating whether he should prologue your visit or make you leave as fast as possible before he gets himself a trip to HR. As he bandages you up he takes one last look at you. Both of you stare at each other's eye for a while.

He thought you were as beautiful as you thought he was.

- - -

Days later you receive lab results claiming that you’re healthy, but there was one problem you were love sick. These days you were daydreaming about the handsome phlebotomist and wondered where could you find Yeonjun again.

As the love sickness continued you spent your days on the couch eating ice cream and watching random things on tv. Your phone explodes with messages from your friends inviting you to go bar hopping. A sigh of hesitation slips your mouth but you agreed to go to pass the time of one more lonely night.

Over the course of the night your group of friends became scattered as they found someone to sleep with or getting bored and went home. You were surprised how long you lasted. You guessed that the alcohol was doing its job of keeping your mind busy. Then, the lasting friends suggested to go to “Red Moon.”

You were nervous about the proposal. This was a bar for both mystical creatures and humans. Mystical creatures have become normalized in society, but they are still seen as potential danger. You were already scared of regular creeps, you were not ready to fight off a more powerful creep.

Your friends walk in the bar without a care in the world with you walking behind in in obvious terror. The dark bar was illuminated with red neon lights and was blasting music. Distracted by the diversity of humans and creatures you instantly loose your friends and now you pushed yourself into the corner of the bar for safety.

You look up to the bar tender who was obviously a werewolf and obviously judging you.

"Can I get a vodka cranberry, please?"

"Sure thing" the werewolf warmed up to you after the order.

As you were waiting for your drink, you feel hands on your waist and another's body against yours.

A deep voice whispers in you ear “Hello again y/n l/n”

You were about to smack the invader but stopped to realize the voice was familiar. Turning around you find the mystery voice belonged to the phlebotomist model. Yeonjun had a different aura about him. He looked more edgy and dark but still very handsome.

Yeonjun grabs your hand you were about to smack him with and stretches it out to see where he poked you with a needle.

He points at the sensitive area and says “see I told you I have good aim, barely a bruise”

You stare at him with a grin so entranced by the off-duty phlebotomist you comfortably left his body pressed against yours. Both of you stayed like that while talking and getting to know each other.

“So what are you doing in this bar”

“What do you mean?” Yeonjun relaxes his head into your neck.

“Isn’t this bar for creatures like werewolves, elves, pixies, a- and…”

You have a hard time finishing your sentence when you feel his lips against your neck.

“Vampires” he says while raising his head to look at you.

You nod looking at yeonjun closer. That’s when you noticed his eyes were now a dark shade of red and his smirk revealed long sharp fangs. You shivered at the sight and blush appeared on your cheeks. This reaction increased the delectable scent Yeonjun has been thinking about since he met you in the clinic.

"You... you're a vampire?"

"Yes, is that a problem?" he leans towards your face.

You two stare into each others eyes like before. Yeonjun's red eyes switch from your eyes to your lips.

"You've never been with a vampire before have you?"

You shake your head no. You move a hand to reach for his neck pressing down to find the lack of pulse. The cold touch was enough to clarify your discovery. This made the man shiver.

"How about you take me home and you'll find out what its like being with a vampire, hmm?" he says as he grasps your hand.

He's cocky yet still a gentleman. You turn around asking the bartender for a shot of vodka. You down it, leave a tip, and turn to Yeonjun again.

"Let's fucking do this"

part 2 -> link

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

saying goodbye

(cw: age gap 25/41; mndi, slight nsfw; angst, brief discussion of loss and fear of death)

the part before: comforting him

I wanted to do something nice for König before he goes on his next mission, before he has to leave. Which is quite the challenge to make it a surprise from him when you’re living together. Well, staying together, but it doesn’t change the fact that we spend most of our time with each other.

Another reason, why this doesn't feel like dating anymore. It doesn't feel like just being exclusive. It doesn't feel like a living arrangement because he broke my bed. Also, he seems to be doing better again, after the little downward spiral that plagued him at the end of last week. At the same time… I can't shake the feeling that he's a bit more closed off than he was before.

I sigh. He’ll leave in only two days and we agreed that I would go home tomorrow because, well… it can’t be postponed any longer.

I already knew he has to sort out some stuff today before being deployed, driving into the city, getting a medical check-up and also arranging the details for my new bed to finally be delivered. But this gives me the chance to pack up most of my stuff and prepare what I wanted to surprise him with while he is away for a few hours.

I went grocery shopping after work, got everything that the recipe called for, and started as soon I was back at his place. I cut so many onions for this, I’m all cried out, but I still can’t help the little lump sitting in the back of my throat, closing it up, which has nothing to do with the cut vegetables

He comes back earlier than I anticipated, mumbling something about an incompetent doctor and how he doesn’t like to have his blood drawn. But I shoo him out of his own kitchen with a few comforting words, tell him to sit in the living room and read something. And not disturb me.

“Aye-aye, Ma’am.”, he says, an amused smirk on his face as he jokingly salutes. I roll my eyes and laugh a little, patting his butt, to make him hurry along.

I still need to prepare the sidedish and let the stew cook for a little longer to make sure the meat is tender and the sauce is thick enough. At least that’s what the recipe said. And I need to make sure I do everything right.

When it’s finally done, the kitchen looks like somebody threw around food, although I did my best to clean up as I go.

I fill one of the soup dishes with the stew, putting the Nockerl in there as well, the dough already soaking up some of the sauce. I compare the dish in front of me with the picture from the recipe and I’m actually content with how it came out.

I set the plate down on the island where the seats are and call for König while I get myself a smaller portion. I hear his steps before his huge stature appears in the doorframe.

“Uh, dinner is ready.”, I say wryly smiling at him, with my plate in my hands. I set it down next to his.

“I can see that and I already smelled the cooking in the living room, it smells deli-“ The words gets stuck in his throat as he comes closer, stopping in front of the plate. He drops onto the seat, the furniture aching under his weight. The smile he was still wearing when he came into the kitchen has dissipated, his mouth hanging open, when he looks up from his plate, his eyes finding mine. He looks almost in shock.

I sit down next to him, suddenly very unsure if this whole ordeal even was a good idea.

“You cooked Gulasch?”, he asks, his voice wavering.

I nod. “Yes, I remember how you said that you liked it, so uh, I tried to make it.”

“But you’re vegetarian.”, he adds.

“Yes, but you aren’t. And the original recipe calls for beef.”, I explain, putting the doughy pillows that the Austrians call Nockerl onto my fork, scooping up some of the sauce. I just want to try a bit of, tasting a part of his origins.

He’s still staring as I put the fork into my mouth, and well, he didn’t promise too much when he was talking about his favourite food because that’s really delicious. Though I’m unsure about how authentic it is.

His gaze moves from me to the plate in front of him, finally picking up the fork, and he digs in, taking the biggest bite. I wait to see what his reaction would be like. He shovels two, three forkfuls into his mouth, chewing, tasting. And then suddenly just stops. Goes completely still. And I don’t know what’s going on as his head drops forward, his hair hanging in front of his face.

A small silent sob shakes his chest and a stray tear falls from his face into the stew. My heart drops to my feet. Fuck.

“We don’t need to eat it, if it’s no good.”, I say lightly, trying not to let it affect me. When I go to grab his plate, his head whips in my direction, and I finally get a good look at his face.

“What, no?! I-“ He takes a deep breath, his hand wiping over his eyes quickly, like the tear was never there. “This is the nicest thing somebody has done for me in a long time.”, he finally says. “And it reminds me of my Oma.” A deep sigh shakes his tall frame. “So, thank you, okay? It’s delicious.” He takes my hands, softly pulling them towards him, pressing a kiss on each palm.

The sadness in his eyes isn’t completely gone when I look into them, and I didn’t anticipate that this simple gesture of cooking him his favourite meal would have him in shambles like that. But the smile that turns up the corners of his mouth is a warm one, thankful and happy.

“You’re welcome.”, I simply tell him. “I’m glad you like it.” I press my lips to his, reassuring the big giant that it was okay, without saying it out loud.

When I pull back, he lingers, his hand shooting up to the back of my head, stealing another kiss. Long, deep and oh so soft. Another “thank you”, without saying it out loud.

“What was your Oma like?”, I ask him, taking a forkful of my sauced-up Nockerl. He talked about her before, but it might keep me from tearing up as well.

The smile on his face gets wider and he starts to tell stories about her. Leaving the other people in his family out of it, for the most part.

How she always asked him to get the stuff from the upper shelves because he was already taller than her at age 12. How he sat in the kitchen doing his homework while she cooked. How she stopped pestering him about going to church on Sunday eventually, but still almost smacked him in his head when he turned the cross in the living room upside down as a joke. How she cried when he joined the military because that was the last thing she wished for him. How she still let him go and how he had to promise her to come back – or else. How he helped her in the garden every time he came home and kept doing that well into his 30s. And how he nearly missed her funeral because he almost couldn’t get permission to leave for a few days.

König takes seconds and even thirds, eating almost all of the Gulasch I cooked. I’m already done sitting over my empty plate, listening to him talk, getting us something to drink. When he is done as well, he grabs the plates to wash up, not letting me help in any way, because “Oh no, you already cooked and everything”. He tells me to pick out a movie I’d like to watch, the glint in his eyes telling me that it’s probably going to get cut short again, so I put on Pulp Fiction, a movie we both have watched countless times before.

He laughs as he comes into the living room with a beer in his hand and sees my choice on the flatscreen, taking a seat at the couch and I hop onto his lap when his ass barely touched the cushions. We’re entangled, as close as you can be. And it doesn’t take long for his hands to wander. Squeeze, caress, stroke over my body. Teasing me with soft kisses against my neck until a heavy sigh leaves my lips. He takes that as an invitation to finally take me to the bedroom where he lies me down on the mattress to eat me out, while he kneels on the floor. Messy, sloppy licks and nibbles, his fingers methodically filling me until I cum for him, my thighs pressing together around his head.

He crawls over me, pushing into me with his dick, after teasing my clit some more with his tip, the piercing deliciously pressing into the sensitive nub.

Slow and sweet doesn’t mean less intense, the soft stretch with every sensual roll of his hips sending sensations over my body, making me pant and throw my head back with pleasure.

His hand on my chin compelling me look at him while he is fucking me like this… until it doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore. When I come again, this time around his dick, it feels like a soft wave washing over me, his name on my lips, and he doesn’t stop pushing into me, prolonging my orgasm and chasing his own until he spills inside me.

He presses kisses to my cheek, pulling me into him, and we snuggle up against each other to fall asleep. My back is against his front, the heat of his body warming me, that I don’t even need a blanket. Feeling the comfort of his embrace a little more clearly than usual.

And the realisation hits me that he is going to leave. And I’m gonna go back home, to my apartment. No more König when I come home from work. No shared meals in the kitchen, no sitting in his lap on the couch. No laughing fits in the middle of the night when one of us says something so stupid that the other can’t comprehend. No filthy sex and tender kisses. No calling him “old man” to get a rise out of him. No dirty punishment for my bratty ass. No feeling him inside me, his brows turned up, his eyes rolling back in ecstatic expression as he comes. None of it, at least for some time.

I push those thoughts away, pulling his arms tighter around me as if I could keep him like this. I close my eyes, ignoring the one stray tear that rolls down my cheek, and drift off into sleep.

And with this the day I have been dreading the whole week is finally here. The day when I return to my own apartment after staying with him for weeks. I even took a day off of work for this.

I’m trying not to let it show too much, because it’s a bit stupid. This living arrangement always was meant to be temporary and I always knew he was on leave, needing to go back to his work at some point sooner or later. But now that it’s here… I kinda don’t want it to happen at all.

The coffee tastes a little bitter as I sip it, even though he added just as much milk as usual, with the typical joking disgust while diluting the tasty elixir, that always makes me chuckle and shake my head.

The sunlight streaming through the big windows in the living room blinds me as it reflects off the shiny couch upholstery when I go to collect Mimi from her spot, putting her in the cat carrier.

The book I finished reading on the weekend gets caught when I push it into its place on the shelf, some of the pages creasing. I curse, showing König and apologizing. He takes the book from my grasp, straightening out the crinkles, and puts it back. “Don’t worry, Liebes, it’s just a book.”, he says, his arm coming around me as he pulls me against his warm body and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I get the rest of my stuff, seeing that one of my yarn balls has tangled into a net of knots, and I curse again. Of course, it did. I put my crochet bag into one of the boxes and carry it outside.

With a sigh I look back over my shoulder one last time and close the door behind me, placing my stuff in the trunk and climbing into the driver’s seat of my own car. Starting it and driving after him, and it’s weird not to sit right next to him in his car.

It’s weird being home again. Letting Mimi out of her carrier, the little kitty running around, brushing against his legs. And he picks her up, carrying her around, just like they always do. The small creature is purring against his chest as he shimmies her around, humming some tune I can't place.

It’s weird standing here in my apartment with him, waiting for the bed to be delivered. I can feel my bubbly yapping coming back, not being able to shut up, and König is listening like he always does. Short, one-worded answers while his hand is petting Mimi, scratching between her ears and under her chin.

The doorbell ringing tears us from our conversation. The delivery guys are handing the packages over, asking if they should help bring them in, but König declines, giving them a tip and sending them their way.

I’m not as easily deterred from trying to help with the packages, although König is carrying most of them, barely breaking a sweat, while I struggle with the smallest one.

Sitting on the bedroom floor, his tall figure still reaching up to my hips before I get down next to him. He’s glancing at the instructions, squeezing his eyes together, but I can tell he’s having a hard time seeing the illustrations of the steps correctly.

And of course he is too stubborn to ask for help. I grin to myself and shake my head. “Forgot your glasses?”, I ask him, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.”, he says wryly, and I extend my hand, suggesting silently he’ll hand over the instructions and he does, with a sigh and a little smile.

While I’m still studying the instructions, he’s laying out the pieces and already putting the first parts together. Of course, he is choosing the hands-on approach, even with stuff like that, figuring it out as he moves along, and I chime in with a few comments here and there, guiding the construction.

His long hair is getting in the way and I lend him a hair tie, and I don’t think I’ll ever manage to get over how meticulous he puts his hair in a ponytail. I mean, he probably has done that same move for years, his hands collecting all the stray strands, the band snapping around them with two quick motions and then it just sits perfectly at the back of his head.

We spent so much time together and I realise that I’ve never seen him do that. The whole time he was always wearing his hair down, some strands hanging in front of his face. Sometimes he put them into a lose bun when he was working out, but never like this.

“What?”, he asks me, a hint of uncertainty on his face.

I shake my head. “Nothing, your hair looks good like that.”, I say, clearing my voice when it dares to break off, but I save it with a smile which gets mirrored by his, and I can’t help but put a kiss onto it while a pang of something spreads in my chest. I feel like I know him so well, and yet I keep learning parts of him I’ve never seen before.

“Come on, Hexe.”, he says when I linger, prolonging the kiss, caught in my thoughts, his hand patting my hip which makes me giggle a bit, but I can't shake the feeling that's settling in my stomach. Fuck, he's gonna leave.

Pretty quickly we construct the bed, it’s easy enough, especially when you’re following the instructions – a sentiment I say out loud after he managed to stick two pieces together who fit, but actually belong like that. He just grins and pulls them apart easily, his muscles flexing for just a moment.

“Show-off.”, I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

Finally, the frame is done, the slats already fitted into it and last but not least, we hoist the mattress onto them.

“You didn’t need to buy me a new one, you know.”

He shoots me a look. A knowing one.

“Really, it was fine. The old one would have sufficed.”

“I have slept on that mattress. You needed a new one.”

“Oh, that's just your old bones.”, I quip, and I know how ridiculous I must sound telling that to a soldier who can probably sleep anytime anywhere.

He pinches my nose. “You're not getting younger yourself, Missy.”, he answers. "Your back will be thankful."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I say grinning and bump my hip against his, rather hitting the burly thigh, before getting some bedsheets.

The fresh sheets match the nice dark wood of the bedframe, the bed now looking so much nicer than the rest of my furniture pieces.

“Thanks. For the new bed.”, I tell him, smiling up at him, getting on my tiptoes.

“No need to thank me, Liebes.”, he answers, leaning down and meeting me halfway for a kiss. “It was my fault you needed a new one in the first place.”, a wry grin accompanying his words.

“Well, this looks much sturdier like the one I had before.” I tap the wooden frame, a hollow knock resounding.

“Well, I needed to make sure that it wouldn’t break that easily again.”, he says, smiling down at me, a twinkle in his eyes. A reminder of how we broke it in the first place.

“Care to test that theory?”, I ask him cheekily, although I’m not really in the mood right now. My heart is way too heavy.

Before I can say anything else, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me up on the bed, the mattress dipping down under my weight. His hands are steadying me when I start to jump up and down, bouncing on it. Damn, it’s really nice. And I don't dare to ask how much he spent on it.

“Sturdy enough, you think?”, he asks me.

I nod. “You wanna come up here too?”, I tease him.

He shakes his head, just grinning, following my movements up and down with his eyes.

“Oh come on!”, I exclaim, not ready to stop this sillyness.

He pulls up his eyebrows. “I don’t think that would be wise, we don’t need to push it.”, he grins, when all of a sudden, there’s a faint cracking sound, and I stop, almost toppling over trying to hold my balance on the wobbling mattress.

“Point and case.”, he remarks as his arms coming around my waist as he lifts me off the bed.

“Okay, okay…”

I hold onto him like a little spider monkey, my legs closing around him, my cheek pressing against his shoulder as I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. Like I could keep him here like that. Or he’ll just take me with him when I stick to him like a limpet. Maybe I’m small enough to fit into his pocket.

My fingers get caught in his hair as I try to run them through it like I always do, and he pulls the hair tie from them, putting it away, letting me play with the long strands, as he goes to sit down.

The couch in my apartment is way smaller than his, his frame fills the cushions easily, so I have nowhere else to sit but his lap. Like I would have sat anywhere else. Trying to be as close to him as possible.

We’re not saying anything, just sitting here. My head rests against his shoulder, his scent all around me. I can hear his heart beat, feel it beneath my fingertips resting on his chest. Steady and strong, but a little too fast.

His hands are gently caressing my thighs and back, and even though I feel the sadness seep into me, the soft touches ground me.

We sit in silence for what seems eternity while at the same time lasting barely more than the blink of an eye. And I wish we could remain in this moment, frozen in time, but well.

He sighs softly, the deep sound pulling me from my thoughts, and I lift my head, to look at him.

“We need to say goodbye.” He slumps back, his shoulders hitting the backrest. “I wish I didn’t need to go.”, he exhales. Saying what I was thinking.

"Don't worry, I'll still be here when you're on leave again.", I tell him, softly kissing his cheek. He turns to me, the expression on his face serious and... a bit sad.

"But you shouldn't be.", he says, calm and steady.

"But-", I want to protest.

He shakes his head. "No, you should be with somebody your age, someone who can give you stability." He sighs. "Someone who can guarantee you that they'll come back to you. Every time they leave."

And the realisation hits me. He isn't saying goodbye for now. He's saying goodbye for good.

“I see.”, is all I manage because my feelings come crashing down over me with a vicious fervor. I thought I was going to have to deal with him leaving for weeks or months. With him being gone for a while. Not with a breakup.

“I’m sorry.”, he apologizes and starts to explain. “I never meant for this to go this far or… this deep.” The admission in his words makes my stomach flip upside down. I actually feel a little nauseous as my hands grip my own thighs, trying to hold onto something. “And I should’ve maybe said something earlier.” He swallows hard.

“The truth is that I had the best time this leave, and that was solely because of you.” He finally looks at me again, the raw emotions in his eyes almost scaring me. But the resolve in them is clear as well. “I couldn’t get myself to break it off. But I can’t make you wait for me either. Because I can’t even promise you that I will return.” His voice is shaking now and seeing him like this makes my lower lip tremble as I just try to breathe.

“And I can’t do that to you. The thought of you waiting for me at home and only a casket coming back… has been killing me inside these past few days.” The words come out choked and I can’t look at him anymore, my head snapping to the side as that image fills my mind. “Fuck, I’m really sorry, okay?”

We sit here like this for a moment longer. His hands stopped caressing my thighs and back, and I want to scream. The cold feeling of loss grips my heart, a viciously clawed hand leaving gaping wounds as it was making its way up my chest. He’s still sitting underneath me, but I feel like he’s already gone.

“I get it.”, I finally say, my voice trembling and hoarse. Still not able to look at him because I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my tears.

“I knew you would.”, he says, the words breaking up as he speaks. And I think back to when he told me that he couldn’t have a partner or family because his job won’t allow it. And I finally get why he thinks like that. At least I guess so. The big house devoid of any life but him, his own little safe haven, and I only now understand how temporary this whole arrangement really had been. I just didn’t see it. Maybe because I didn’t want to.

While I still try to process everything, he lifts me up and sets me down on the cushions of the couch. Like he did countless times the last few weeks. In his living room. And a sob tears from my chest because the gesture reminds me of so many tender and filthy moments at the same time. I hug my knees, pulling them close to me, already missing the warmth of his body. But that’s the way it is now, I guess.

He crouches down, coming face to face with me, and it just hurts to look at him. The bandshirt he bought for the concert we went to together. The tattoos on his knuckles, straining from the tension in his balled-up fists. The long dark hair, pushed to the side, falling back down his shoulder. I don’t need to touch it, to know how soft it feels. The mouth that smiled at me so often. The lips I have kissed countless times and that have kissed every inch of my body. The furrowed brows. The slack expression on his face concealing the laughlines. And for the first time since I’ve known him looking into his eyes doesn’t give me comfort.

He carefully takes my chin, the pads of his fingertips rough against the skin, softly digging into my jaw, like he likes – liked to do. He leans forward pressing a kiss to my lips which almost makes the tears drop from my eyes. A kiss to say goodbye, gentle and bittersweet.

"Stay safe, okay?", he whispers, his eyes looking intently into mine, but I can only nod. My throat is closed up because I know he won't be safe. Not saying anything because I don't want to cry in front of him. Because that will only make it harder, on both of us.

He straightens back up and leaves. The door falls shut behind him.

And I finally let the waterworks flow, sobs shaking my chest as I throw myself into the couch where he sat just a few moments ago.

Mimi’s meow pulls me from my crying fit when she jumps up onto the couch, her little head bumping into me, and I pull her against my chest, the tears rolling down my cheeks. And the odd thought crosses my mind if the crinkles in the book on his shelf are the only remainders of me in his house. While I have this new bed.

How did we get here? Masterlist or the next part

a/n: i have been working on this chapter for months and i knew what was coming and now that it's finished, i can't help but still feel the sadness hitting me 🥲 - and no, this is not the last chapter (in case you were fearing that rn) take this recipe for authentic austrian beef gulasch as a token of my apology

[bonniesfamiliar]

Time Travel Drabble: This is Harriet thinking that she's dreaming. This is Tom basically drunk off of his soul being inside her.

Slytherin Green silk robe.

Untameable black hair like ink.

Those are the first things that Tom could register from the unfamiliar person lying down on the Black family carpet, the one opposite their tapestry. 

He curled his lip in disgust at the memory of Walburga Black entering his mind with her banshee-like screeching of pride over the 'purity' of her and her family's blood.

A giggle snapped him out of his thoughts and back to the woman lying down.

He cleared his throat to gain her attention but to no avail as her attention was pinned to the tapestry.

Tom hated being ignored so he cleared his throat even deeper and added, "Excuse me-"

"You're excused." She cut him off, not even looking at him to address him, "Now get out." This was followed by a shooing motion that angered him, "I thought I told Kreacher not to let anyone in today." The last part was muttered to herself.

She resumed looking at the tapestry while Tom assessed her.

The unidentified witch didn't seem like a threat, especially since her magic wasn't even present.

 Still, appearances were deceiving so he kept his magic on the defensive in case she attacked.

She sighed with exhaustion before standing up.

When she faced him, her reaction was most peculiar.

Instead of shrieking like any lady who realised that a gentleman was in her presence, she folded her arms and assessed him.

"A ghost of Tom Riddle coming to haunt me?" She said aloud, freezing him temporarily.

How did she know his identity?

"A ghost?" He asks instead, more confused as to that part of her ramblings.

The witch cocked her head at him and her stare intensified.

Eyes as green as the killing curse, he noted, finding himself strangely drawn to them.

"Yes, a ghost, Tom. That's what you are to me." 

Her voice was oddly sooth- He ought to smack himself for having inappropriate thoughts towards a woman he had never met before.

"I do believe you are confusing me with a different person."

An appalled look overtook his face before he could stop it at the sight of her snorting.

What unladylike behaviour, he added mentally to the profile he was beginning to build in his mind.

"Even dead, you're still trying to trick me, Tom?" She tutted, making him feel more like a schoolboy being told off.

"Are you aware that it is quite rude to address a person by their forename without giving yours in return?" Tom moves closer, both as intimidation and to avoid looking at her very appealing figure- STOP!

His mind screeched to a halt.

What was his mind even saying?

"You really are going with this whole clueless act, aren't you Tom?" She asked with narrowed eyes.

Before he could reply, she sighed and released her hands from their folded state.

"Hi, Tom Riddle. My name is Harriet Potter. Are you happy now?" She placed her hand in front of him for him to shake.

He kissed the back of her hand, almost drunk off of the intensity of feeling the power of her magic humming under her skin, and replied, "Immensely pleased."

Sh- Lady Potter downright hissed at him like a tame cat turned wild as she snatched her hand back from his hold.

"I am not a thing that has been created to please you, Tom." She spat out his name like it was poison on her tongue.

"Did I say you were?" He replied, amusement in his tone at seeing a blush colour her cheeks when she hissed at him, anger dripping from her.

"Yes, you have. Multiple times, Tom," she states before moving away from him to sit on the sofa that she had neglected for the floor.

Tom followed her and sat next to her asking, "I do not recall any of those moments,"

Lady Potter - Harleen - groaned in frustration, jabbing a finger into his side, "Stop acting like you don't fucking know me, you fucked up Dark Lord!"

Tom grabbed at her hands, halting her movements from poking him any further and stated, "I truly do not know who you are, Lady Potter."

Lady Potter froze and looked at him.

No.

She assessed him the way a predator would before pouncing on its prey.

Was he the prey in the situation?

"Fine then, Tom," Lady Potter mused, as she stood up and bound him to the sofa with invisible weaves of ropes, "I'm going to play along with the ruse that you've cooked up here. The ruse being that I've travelled back somehow and met the Dark Lord before he loses his nose."

Excuse me? Tom went to say but he failed to notice earlier that the ropes bound his mouth so he was unable to speak.

"I killed you in the future," She says casually as if talking about the weather, "I took pleasure in watching you turn into nothing but ash."

Tom's red eyes must have come out because Harleen was looking at him very carefully.

Then she did something he could never have expected.

She spoke in Parseltongue.

A Potter was a Parselmouth.

"You destroyed my life, Tom Riddle. And now, I'm going to ruin yours. I'm going to ruin you until you come to me on your knees begging for death."

Then the ropes were gone but before he could grab her, she had disappeared.

Tom grinned at the challenge.

Him begging?

No, Harleen Potter, it will be you who comes to me.

[mrs-kodzuken]

Two lovers and a stuffie ♡

Pairing: Haijme Iwaizumi x fem!reader x Tōru Oikawa

WC: 2.4k

Genre: fluff with hints of sadness

CW: fem!reader, age regressor!reader, caregiver!haijme, caregiver!tōru, poly relationship, age regression coping mechanism, mentions of period blood/pads, when reader is regressed they use the caregiver name of “daddy” referring to iwa & kawa, strictly and completely unsexual!! stuffed animal and pacifier used for comfort by reader, switches from 1st pov to 3rd omniscient then back to 1st for plot

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

"Are you ready? You can sit with me if you'd like."

Kiyoko had offered me to sit beside her on the bus. We had been invited to a week-long training camp by the Shinzen. Even Aoba Johsai would be there too.

"Sure, thanks Kiyoko." I smiled, climbing to one of the front seats with her.

I snagged the window seat, wanting to watch the stars. Knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep on the way here, I stayed up. The fear of someone crashing the bus keeping me up.

Getting into my bag, I squeezed my stuffy's arm to calm myself. Usually, I'd have time to regress, but since we're going to be somewhere else, it would be almost impossible.

Even if both of my caregivers were going to be there. I still didn't want to risk it and get made fun of.

It was exceptionally hard to have both of my significant others in a different school too. I knew they'd be working hard and practicing, and it was about thirty minutes from my house to theirs.

The entire night, I watched Coach Ukai and our adviser, Takeda, switch between driving.

Somehow, during the night, my stomach started to churn, giving me a sick feeling. I didn't bother telling anyone because it would only cause trouble.

I never get sick during car rides, so I thought that must be it. I was just car sick.

Thinking by the time morning came about, it'd be gone. Just to my luck, it got worse.

It was like pins and needles had been continuously poking and prodding my abdomen.

I had to constantly keep my face a poker face and refrain from holding my stomach. I didn't want to cause any suspicion or worry.

"(Y/n)? Are you okay? You seem quieter than usual." I heard Kiyoko ask beside me while I was walking, going to put our stuff down in the managerial room.

All the managers from each team had an entire room to ourselves since all of us were girls.

"Y-Yes. I'm fine." I gave her a painful smile, trying to tell her I was alright.

I heard a bus across the lot pull to a stop, and it turned out to be Seijoh.

"Move your ass, Shittykawa." I heard my lover's voice, which soothed me. I practically relaxed while standing because of it.

"So mean, Iwa-chan."

Turning towards the voices, I watched them both, lovingly. But I refused to go over there, despite how much I wanted to; if I did, I'd melt into their arms.

Taking a deep breath in, hoping it would soothe my stomach. No such luck.

I quickly moved along with Kiyoko and Yachi, not wanting to be left behind when they started walking.

As the day drawn on, the pains in my stomach were getting so harsh. I even developed a headache that was pounding in my skull.

It was like the world was out to get me or something.

To make matters worse, I could hardly do my job as a manager due to switching between my headspaces. It felt like my mind was breaking in half.

I had managed to stay away from the two boys, but I was noticed by almost everyone else.

My head was loopy, making my footing weird as I walked to dinner.

"Are you sure you're okay? You haven't eaten anything today, and you're not eating dinner." I heard Sugawara say to me from across the table.

It was true; I had been pushing my food around, playing with it. I couldn't even eat because of the pain.

"I'm fine; I just am tired. I'm going to go take a shower, then go to bed." I reassured them, pushing my chair back, with a forced small smile.

I didn't care if my team's eyes were watching my every move, but I locked eyes with Oikawa and Iwaizumi on my way out.

As I turned the corner, tears brimmed my eyes just a bit. I wanted nothing more than to run into their arms and have them take care of everything. To take care of me.

I grabbed my futon in the manager's room and got it ready, but decided to lay down for a few minutes. An uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.

But when my head finally laid down, I was out like a light.

My eyes shot open, and I could feel bile rising in my throat. Immediately covering my mouth, I got up and rushed to find a bathroom.

There wasn't one in the room, but I did find one down the hall. I quickly slumped to my knees and let it all out within the, thankfully, clean porcelain toilet.

Tears welled in my eyes, wanting nothing more than the comfort of my daddies. I sobbed into the toilet, my body feeling hot and the salty tears trailing down my cheeks. My sorrow filled sobs echoed in the empty bathroom.

My stomach wasn't any better; it seemed to have gotten even worse. It was to the point where I couldn't even move if I wanted to.

I lay there sobbing, heavily deep in little space, sick. Another round of bile came about, which I released once again.

My left arm was hugging my stomach as my right one gave me support to lean on. I could feel my nose becoming stuffy, which only made me cry harder.

"D-Daddy." I hiccupped and whined, wanting them to take care of everything.

Whimpers escaped my mouth as I heard the door open. I was wishing for my daddies but was met with Kiyoko.

My eyes widened, "Please don't laugh at me! I just want my daddies!" I sobbed louder, afraid my secret would be out, snot running from my nose.

Kiyoko crouched down to my sickened state and started to soothingly rub my shoulders.

"I won't laugh, I promise. Can you tell me who your daddies are?"

"Tōru and H-Haijme." I squeezed my eyes shut as another wave of pain came from my stomach.

"Will you be alright while I go get them?" Kiyoko asked, still rubbing my shoulders.

I slowly nodded, taking a sharp intake of air.

Kiyoko had fast-walked to Aoba Johsai's room. She didn't want to leave (Y/n) in there by herself, especially in this condition.

She quietly opened the door, not trying to wake anyone. Kiyoko had walked inside, but to her dismay, she found two futons empty.

Huffing a bit, she turned around, exiting their room.

When she left, she accidentally bumped into the two people she had needed to find.

"Karasuno's manager? What are you doing up?" Oikawa had asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I think I have your little girl in the bathroom. She's asking for you two and seems quite sick."

The entire reason Iwaizumi and Oikawa were up anyway was to find the manager's room. They wanted to check up on their little girl, who had been avoiding them all day.

When those words left Kiyoko's mouth, they rushed to follow her into a bathroom.

I looked up from my slouching spot on the tiled bathroom floor after hearing the door slam open.

My half-lidded eyes recognized the two beings. "Daddy!" I cried, wanting to be in their embrace and take care of me.

A frantic look came upon both of their faces as they crouched down to where I was.

"Sweetie, what happened?"

"Baby, are you bleeding?"

They both asked simultaneously, and I looked down at the shorts I had been wearing during the day.

The gray shorts were leaking red liquid, causing a mess on me and the floor.

My eyes widened as I looked up, my eyes tearful. I began to apologize, sobbing louder unable to control my emotions in this state.

Haijme engulfed me in his strong arms, cuddling me softly. I leaned on his chest, relaxing.

I heard Tōru ask Kiyoko for any lady products I could use. While he was away, Iwaizumi picked me up in bridal style and he got a bubble bath ready.

He cleaned me up an brushed my teeth, too. All the while, I became sleepier as he whispered sweet nothingness into my ear.

Oikawa came back with a large shirt, his boxers, and some pads.

"Here, baby," Haijme gave me a glass of water and a couple of pills.

I easily swallowed them, trying to keep my eyes open and refrain from yawning.

Tōru picked me up while Iwaizumi had gone somewhere else.

I cuddled against Oikawa's chest while he carried me to his team's room.

Setting me down softly on a futon—well, two futons pushed together. He covered me up with the blankets.

Hajime came back with my (f/c) pacifier and stuffie.

He gently set the paci in my mouth while I brought (stuffies/name) closer to me.

Both of them wrapped their arms around me. They cradled me all night, knowing that there was a possibility of us getting into trouble in the morning.

Oikawa had started running his hands through my hair, while Iwaizumi gently massaged my stomach. That was all I needed to go to sleep peacefully this time.

When morning finally rolled around, most of the team was up. Well except for Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and (Y/n), who were still sleeping.

That morning, the guys had taken many pictures of the three of them. They laughed in adoration silently, not daring to wake them up.

But as always, there wouldn't be a day that went by when they wouldn't dare let their captain and vice captain get into trouble.

So they made up excuses till Oikawa and Iwaizumi awoke. The both of them staring at your beautiful sleeping form.

They kissed your forehead and cheek then wrote a small note on each side of you.

Once they were ready, they announced that you were sick and needed to be kept in bed all day.

Then everyone got confused as to why they, out of all people, would announce that.

"What did you do to our precious manager?" said by none other than Noya and Tanaka.

"She's our girlfriend," Iwaizumi answered, unbothered.

It seems as if Tanaka and Noya had frozen their raging attack.

"Whose?"

"Both of ours." Oikawa answered with a pointed look.

It seemed as if they both decided to reflect on their life choices after hearing that answer.

Waking up peacefully this time made me feel so much better. Cuddling my stuffie, I stretched my legs out. Realizing that me being on my period wasn't a dream, I shot out of the futon.

I was scared that I had leaked while I slept.

Luckily, I didn't, but I did need to change pads. After doing my business and washing my hands thoroughly, I laid back down.

I wasn't going to get up if I didn't need to. Looking to the left, I saw a small piece of paper lying there.

How the hell did I not see that when I checked the futon?

Picking it up, it was a sweet good morning note. It was from Haijme and also stated that Oikawa's was on the other side of me.

After I had read them, I put them in a spot where I wouldn't crush them.

I had been trying to fall back to sleep countless times, but when my cramps decided to come back, that's when I got up.

I went searching through Tōru's bag for some sweatpants because I'm not walking out of this room in just his boxers.

After sliding those bad boys on my lower half, I grabbed the notes, shoving them in my pocket and put the futons away.

I had no idea what time it was since my phone was back in the manager's room. So I decided to see what we'd be eating next to tell the time.

Walking into the kitchen, I was met with the smell of soup and, to be honest, it did smell quite good.

"Miss (L/n), you're up. The staff heard you were sick, so we whipped you up a soup. Feel better soon!" The lady handed me a fresh bowl of soup, and I thanked her while moving towards the dinner table to eat.

By the time I was done, I could hear some people coming in for lunch. I guess I had mine a bit early.

Anyways, I started shuffling back to the Aoba Johsai room; I had forgotten my stuffie and paci.

Picking them up I hid the pacifier in the sweat pants pocket so no one would see it.

When I shut the door, I turned around to head towards the room I should have slept in. My hair is probably a mess right now, and I should fix it.

I was stopped in my walk when I heard someone call out my name.

Turning around, I was ruthlessly jumped on by Tōru, I could tell by his intoxicating scent I loved. He tackled me to the floor, and we obviously fell.

"Ow, Tōru! Get off!" I shouted, trying to move his body.

"But you love me!" He leaned into my body more—that is, until we heard stomping coming from the hall.

I looked up to see Iwaizumi and smirked, because Oikawa was about to get his ass kicked.

"Oi! Get your heavy ass off of her, Trashykawa!" He ripped Tōru's body from mine, relieving me and slapping him.

"Thank you." I was gently pulled up from the floor, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"That's not fair! I want one!" Tōru pouted at me, his arms crossed.

I rolled my eyes at his playful behavior but still moved to give him a kiss on the cheek.

At the last second, the sly fucker moved his head so I'd kiss his lips. Which I should have expected from Oikawa.

"Amazing, why didn't I think of that?" Hajime sarcastically said, taking my waist and kissing me.

Just as Tōru was about to make another move, I quickly stopped him.

"No, I'm going to my room and I feel much better now. Thank you." I said that and turned to finally going down the hall.

I heard them talking about how I don't have to say thank you since they are the caregivers. I couldn't help myself, though.

When I got better, everything seemed to return to normal. I even apologized to Kiyoko because I had disrupted her sleep.

She said it was fine because she had always been a light sleeper. I just couldn't thank her and my boys enough.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

[swanhild]

WiP Snippet

Thank you @polutrope and @sallysavestheday for tagging me to share something I'm working on! So here's Maedhros and Fingon being overly competitive shit-talking their family dancing at their wedding in that post-canon fix-it fic that feels like it will never be finished (with bonus appearances by the parents and some siblings and other relatives):

While Turgon possessed many talents that he excelled in, dancing wasn't one his strong suits. It was a fact that Fingon sometimes couldn't resist teasing him about if an occasion presented itself, but right now he simply chuckled softly and said, "I can't decide who's more awkward- your brother or mine." Glancing away from Caranthir and following Fingon's line of sight, Maedhros, too, was amused by the somewhat stiff way Turgon led Elenwë around the dance floor. "Let's not be too harsh on them. They're trying their best," he nevertheless defended their younger siblings, smiling and feeling rather fond of every single member of their family who had come to celebrate with them today. Turgon noticed them watching and nodded at Maedhros and Fingon with an unnecessarily grave expression on his face as he and Elenwë twirled past them. Maedhros had to hide his face in Fingon’s hair so Turgon wouldn’t see him laugh, though Fingon had no such qualms. “I’m certainly grateful we have Turno and Moryo here now to make us look better. I was starting to think we'd be the worst dancers at our own wedding." “What? You’re a good dancer. And so am I,” Maedhros protested. “Yes, but we’re surrounded by show-offs. Just look at them!” Maedhros turned his head in the direction Fingon had indicated and took in the sight of Celegorm effortlessly lifting Aredhel into the air as he spun her around. For two people who spent significant amounts of time crawling through forests, covered in mud and blood, they did admittedly look stunningly elegant and in tune with each other tonight. Next to them, Elrond and Celebrían made an undeniably graceful picture as well, and so did Galadriel and Celeborn, though Maedhros was mostly struck by the unusually soft and adoring expression on Galadriel’s face as she stared into her husband’s eyes. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen his feisty little cousin look like that. “Not to mention uncle Arvo and aunt Eärwen over there! We just can’t compete with that!” Fingon continued, with feigned despair. Arafinwë and Eärwen practically floated around the dance floor, looking very much as if they had spent their whole lives doing nothing else. But then Maedhros’ attention was drawn to his other uncle and aunt — now officially his parents-in-law — and grinned. “I think we can compete with your parents at least. They're not as bad as our brothers, but they won't be winning any awards for their dancing either." “The only reason they're better is because they've been practicing for weeks. Ammë’s not very enthusiastic about dancing, but Atar secretly loves it, so he's been taking full advantage of the opportunity. They are rather unevenly matched in terms of skill and passion though,” Fingon said, before suddenly stopping. “Speaking of parents, Russo, look!” Whipping his head around, Maedhros followed Fingon’s gaze towards the edge of the dance floor where his own mother sat at one of the tables, looking strangely flustered and conflicted. His father was kneeling in front of her, extending his hand and asking her for a dance. With his breath caugth in this throat, Maedhros watched as his mother hesitated, a myriad of emotions flickering across her face in rapid succession. For a few tense moments, Maedhros was sure she would refuse. But then she rose from her chair in one fluid motion and accepted his father’s outstrechted hand. Together, they made their way towards the twirling and swaying crowd. Maedhros quickly buried his face in Fingon’s hair again, but this time it was to hide the tears that had suddenly sprung in his eyes.

(and yes, Fëanor and Nerdanel eventually get back together in this, because I want them to)

Zero pressure-tagging @queerofthedagger @melestasflight @gardensofthemoon @elevenelvenswords @chrissystriped @thecoolblackwaves and anyone else who sees this and would like to share something!