#and how everything about it belies that danger

[cherubchoirs]

starting a new genre of comic called “v1′s enemies having a breakdown halfway through fighting it”

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BOUND BY DESIRE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Dark!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Smut

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Explicit, 18+, smut, cheating, piv, unprotected sex, choking, perv!Logan, fingering, rough, reader is married

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: Logan, your possessive neighbor, has been obsessed with you for a long time, believing your husband doesn’t deserve you. One afternoon, he confronts you, confessing his feelings and insisting you belong to him. Despite your initial resistance, you're drawn to his intensity. Logan kisses you, his dark desire overwhelming, claiming you as his. You’re caught between the weight of your marriage and the dangerous pull of his obsession.

Based on this request

YOU ARE STANDING IN FRONT OF YOUR YARD, completely unaware of the piercing gaze watching you from across the road. Logan’s house isn’t far, tucked just out of sight, but he never stays hidden for long. He can’t. Not when you’re so close.

He stands at his window, gaze fixed on you, fingers twitching at his sides as he fights the urge to cross the street. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows. But it’s impossible to ignore the pull you have over him. His senses are too sharp, too attuned to everything about you—the way your perfume mixes with the air, the soft sound of your laughter when you speak to your husband, the faint trace of your skin beneath it all. It drives him insane.

You’re married. His wife. That thought alone should stop him, should have ended his obsession the moment it began. And yet, here he is. Day after day, watching you, needing you more than he’s ever needed anything before.

A soft laugh escapes your lips as you turn to talk to your husband, and Logan's jaw tightens. He hates the sight of him next to you, touching you, talking to you as if he deserves you. Logan knows deep down that the man doesn’t. Not the way Logan does. He can smell the tension in your house, the arguments that come and go like the changing wind. He knows your marriage isn’t perfect. You aren’t perfect.

But you’re his.

Logan’s thoughts grow darker, swirling around the ways he could make it all disappear. How easy it would be to tear your husband from your life. He’s imagined it before. Too many times. The fantasies slip into his mind late at night when he’s alone—how he could end it in an instant, erase the man from your world, make you his, truly his.

Logan shakes the thoughts away, but the damage is done. The idea is there, burning at the back of his mind like a fire that refuses to die. His fingers flex again, and this time he doesn’t hold back. He grabs his jacket, strides to the door, and steps outside before he can think twice.

You don’t see him coming. You’re too distracted, lost in a conversation with your husband, who’s leaning against the porch railing, sipping a drink, oblivious to the danger that’s lurking just beyond the corner of his eye. But Logan is there in seconds, crossing the yard with an unhurried ease that belies the tension coiled in his body.

“Logan?” you ask, startled as he approaches. You smile, and his chest tightens. You have no idea.

“Hey.” His voice is rougher than usual, his eyes flicking between you and the man standing too close for his liking. “Thought I’d drop by. You got a minute?”

Your husband glances at Logan, clearly unimpressed by the intrusion, but you don’t seem to mind. You shrug, smile a little more, completely unaware of the way Logan’s eyes linger on you a beat too long.

“I guess so. What’s up?”

Logan’s eyes lock on yours, the weight of his stare making your breath hitch for just a moment. There’s something different about him today—something darker, something hungry. The tension between him and your husband is thick, but you ignore it, as usual. You’ve always gotten along with Logan. He’s your friendly, quiet neighbor, a little rough around the edges but kind enough. If you ever sensed something more beneath the surface, you pushed it away.

Now, though… now it’s hard to ignore.

Your husband straightens, eyes narrowing as Logan steps a little closer. “Can it wait, Logan? We’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Logan’s jaw ticks, but he keeps his voice calm, almost too calm. “Wasn’t talkin’ to you.”

The words hang in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. Your husband stiffens, but before he can respond, you step in, sensing the brewing storm. “It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to diffuse the situation. “What do you need, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours as he takes another step, close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of leather and wood smoke clinging to his jacket. Your heart skips a beat.

“I need to talk to you. Alone.”

You glance back at your husband, who’s glaring at Logan now, suspicion written all over his face. But something in Logan’s tone, in the intensity of his gaze, makes it impossible for you to refuse. There’s a pull there, a magnetism you can’t quite explain.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, casual, but the tension crackles in the air as you follow Logan down the front steps, away from the porch, out of earshot and sight from your husband.

Once you’re far enough, you stop, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to face him. “What’s this about, Logan? You’re acting—”

“Different?” he interrupts, his voice low, gravelly, but there’s an edge to it, something simmering just beneath the surface.

Your breath catches as he steps closer, invading your space, his gaze locking onto yours with a heat that sends a shiver down your spine. “Logan—”

“I see the way he treats you,” Logan growls, his voice dark, dangerous. “The way he doesn’t appreciate you. You think I haven’t noticed? You deserve better than him.”

You take a step back, your heart racing. “Logan, this isn’t—”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Logan cuts you off, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. The touch is electric, sending a jolt through your body. You should pull away. You should push him back, tell him to stop, but you don’t. You can’t.

“You’re mine,” Logan whispers, his voice rough, possessive. “You’ve always been mine.”

You know you should leave. You should turn around and go back to your husband, pretend this never happened. But there’s a part of you—dark, twisted, hidden deep beneath the surface—that doesn’t want to.

Because some part of you has always been his too.

The tension between you and Logan hums in the air, thick enough to suffocate. His eyes are burning into yours, his chest rising and falling as if he’s trying to contain himself. You should walk away right now.

You know that. Your husband is just a few steps away, but somehow, he feels like a distant memory compared to the weight of Logan’s presence pressing down on you.

His hand lingers on your arm, the rough texture of his calloused skin sending a ripple of heat through you.

You take in a shaky breath, willing yourself to say something, anything that might pull you out of this. But Logan is too close, too intense, and the words dissolve on your tongue before they can form.

“Logan, we can’t—” you start, but it’s a weak attempt at resistance, and you both know it.

“Why not?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl as his fingers slide up to your shoulder, then your neck, his thumb brushing along your jaw. It’s a gentle touch, but there’s something possessive about it, something that sends a thrill down your spine.

You swallow hard, your throat dry as you try to focus, to remember who you are and what’s at stake. “I’m married,” you say, the words coming out more like a plea than a statement.

His eyes darken at the mention of your husband, his lips curling into a sneer. “Not for long,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear. Then, without warning, he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “You know you don’t belong with him.”

You close your eyes, trying to block out the way his words sink into you, the truth of them

twisting in your gut. You’ve known for a while that things between you and your husband have been strained. But that doesn’t mean this is right. Doesn’t mean you should want this.

And yet… you do.

“I see you,” Logan says, his voice rough, like he’s holding back something dangerous. His hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer until your bodies are almost flush. “I’ve seen the way he treats you, the way he takes you for granted. You think I don’t know?”

Your breath quickens as his lips brush against your ear, the nearness of him intoxicating.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, feel the barely-contained tension in his muscles, and it’s like standing on the edge of a cliff. One wrong move and you’ll fall.

But falling doesn’t feel like such a bad idea anymore.

“Logan…” you whisper, though you’re not sure if it’s a warning or an invitation.

He doesn’t give you time to figure it out. His mouth crashes down on yours with a force that steals your breath, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he pulls you into the kiss. It’s not soft or slow—there’s no pretense of gentleness here. It’s all fire, all need, raw and unrestrained.

Your mind screams at you to stop, but your body betrays you, melting into him, your hands reaching up to clutch his jacket as if he’s the only solid thing keeping you grounded. His other hand slides down your waist, his fingers digging into your hip with a possessiveness that makes your head spin.

When you gasp for air, he uses it to deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming yours with a hunger that feels like it’s been building for years. And maybe it has. Maybe you’ve felt this pull between you and Logan for longer than you’ve ever let yourself admit.

The thought should scare you. It should make you stop. But all you feel is heat, overwhelming and impossible to ignore.

Logan growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pushes you back, guiding you toward the wall of your house. Your back hits the rough brick, and a gasp escapes your mouth, but it’s lost as Logan’s lips find yours again, his hands everywhere—your waist, your neck, your hair—as if he can’t get enough of you. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I’ve wanted this,” he rasps against your lips, his breath ragged. “Wanted you. And you want it too.” It’s not a question. He knows, just like you do. You can feel the truth of it in the way your body responds to him, in the way your pulse races beneath his touch.

But there’s a dark edge to his voice now, something possessive, dangerous, and it sends a chill down your spine even as you shiver from his heat.

You pull back just enough to look up at him, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts. His eyes are wild, a storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface—desire, anger, and something darker, something territorial. It scares you, but it thrills you too, the weight of his obsession pressing down on you like a vice.

“You belong to me,” he growls, his voice thick with conviction. “Not him. Me.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he silences you with another kiss, this one softer but no less intense.

His lips move against yours with a bruising tenderness, like he’s staking his claim, branding you with every touch.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead presses against yours, and you can feel his breath, hot and uneven, mingling with yours in the small space between you.

“You know it, don’t you?” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, every part of you torn between the rational voice screaming in the back of your mind and the overwhelming need that’s taken hold of your body.

You’re standing on a knife’s edge, one step away from shattering everything.

But with Logan this close, his hands still on your body, his lips hovering just inches from yours, you can’t seem to find the strength to care.

“Come with me.” Logan whispers while taking your hand in his, pulling you towards his house without your husband seeing it.

“Logan…” You breathe, but Logan ignores you as he led you through his house, pulling you into his bedroom.

“I’m going to show you how you should be treated.” Logan smirks before pushing you down onto his bed, immediately climbing on top of you.

He wraps one of his hands around your throat while covering your face with kisses.

“Logan…” You whimper, arching your back. Logan just chuckles while reaching for your skirt with his free hand. He bunches up the fabric and starts stroking your clothed pussy.

“I can already feel you dripping.” Logan smirks before pushing your panties to the side, slowly sliding two of his fingers through your folds.

“Oh f-fuck…” You moan as your mouth falls open. “Yeah you like that?” Logan smiles, slowly inserting one of his fingers into your hole, filling you up.

“Fuck you’re so tight. Does your husband not fuck you enough?” Logan asks with a grin. You try to roll your eyes at him but the feeling of his finger fucking you feels to good.

“More…” You whimper. Logan listens and adds a second finger in your pussy.

“Fuck Logan!” Logan just smirks while putting some more pressure on your throat. He leans in and captures your lips in a passionate heated kiss.

You could feel Logan’s cock throbbing against the inside of your thigh. You try to move your hips but Logan keeps you down. “Hold on sweet girl.” Logan says before reaching for his belt, unbuckling it with one hand before pulling them down with his boxers.

You could feel his cock slapping against your pussy while he pulled down your tanktop, revealing your tits.

“I need more…” You say softly, trying to focus while Logan kept fucking you with his fingers.

“I know. You must be needing more after that pathetic husband of you keeps you dissatisfied.” Logan scoffs, stroking his cock as he leans down to press kisses in between your tits.

“Don’t talk about my husband like that.” You manage to say between moans, making Logan laugh. “Or what?” He replies.

When you don’t give him an answer, Logan aligns his cock at your entrance while looking down at you, his gaze unreadable.

“You’re mine, okay? Mine.” Logan tells you before pushing his cock in, filling your pussy.

“Oh God!” You moan as you throw your head back against the pillows.

Logan closes his eyes for a moment, trying to control himself as he feels your walls clench around him.

“You feel amazing.” Logan says. “So fucking tight.” He groans as he places both of his hands next to your face, slowly rocking his hips forward.

You dig your nails into Logan’s back, causing him to groan as he speeds up his thrusts.

“So pretty like this. Taking another man’s cock. What would your husband think of you when he finds out?” Logan mocks as he holds up one of your legs, making you take him deeper.

You know you should geel guilty, but somehow you just don’t. You are too lost in all the pleasure to care. And Logan knows.

Suddenly Logan grabs your hips and switches positions, making you ride him while he’s playing with your tits.

You bounce up and down his cock while Logan bites his lip, looking at how his cock keeps disappearing in your cunt.

“So fucking sexy.” He murmurs while rubbing your clit with one of his hands.

“L-Logan…Fuck,” You moan as you throw your head back in pleasure. “Go on, keep fucking yourself on my cock, darlin’.” Logan groans, forcing your hips down onto his cock, making him hit the perfect spot.

“I’m close…” You announce, placing one of your hands on Logan’s chest for leverage.

“Go on then, sweetheart. Come on my cock.” Logan smirks as he starts thrusting up into you. You let out a deep moan while digging your nails into his chest.

Soon, you are a shuddering mess as you come undone on his cock. “Logan!,” You moan, collapsing onto Logan while you’re milking his dick.

Logan immediately wraps his arms around your waist while pounding into you. You start whimpering, telling him it was too much, but Logan doesn’t care. He keeps sliding his cock in and out of your pussy until he almost comes.

“Oh baby, i’m going to fill you up with my cum. I bet your husband would love that.” He chuckles darkly, pounding into you a few more times until he comes inside of you. You moan softly at the feeling of him filling you up.

“Oh fucking hell.” Logan breathes as he slowly calms down. He doesn’t pull out, he just pulls you even closer to him while stroking your back.

“You belong with me.” He says quietly. You hum at his words, too tired to say anything else.

You and Logan stay like that for a while. Just cuddling in bed, until you realize how late it is.

“Shit i have to get back. He’ll start wondering where i am.” You say, panicking as you quickly get off of Logan.

Logan watches as you fix your clothes. Pulling your skirt back down and your top up. You walk over to Logan’s mirror and quickly fix your hair.

Suddenly, Logan is behind you. His hands are on your waist as he lays his chin on your shoulder.

“Come back here tonight.” He sighs. “I can’t Logan. We shouldn’t have done this. It isn’t fair.” You tell him.

Logan laughs while shaking his head. “Do you know what isn’t fair? You being with someone who doesn’t appreciate you enough.” You roll your eyes at his words, but deep down you know he’s right.

“I have to go Logan.” You tell him again. Logan nods and guides you to the front door of his small house.

“At least try to come back tonight. It will be worth it.” Logan says, smirking slightly. You give him a small smile while nodding. “I’ll try.”

Logan quickly leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before watching you walk back to your own house.

When you walk into the living room, you see your husband sitting on the couch, watching TV. His eyes immediately fall upon you.

“What did he want from you? You’ve been almost gone for an hour.” He asks. You just shrug your shoulders while heading to the kitchen.

“He needed some help with his backyard. Didn’t know how to plant the flowers, so i helped him.” You lie.

“Mhm such a strange guy.” Your husband murmurs, returning his focus back to the TV.

“Yeah… tell me about it.” You mumble under your breath while looking at the back of your husband, still feeling Logan’s cum leak out of you.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @wolviesgirl @slowlikehoneyyy

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[anthurak]

One of the more subtle details about Hazbin Hotel that I’m particularly interested to see is what the actual Power Dynamics between the various characters are going to look like.

Because with everything we’ve seen from Helluva Boss, I have a hunch that there has actually been a bit of misdirection going on in the promotional material. Specifically in how the Overlords like Valentino, Vox, Velvette and even Alastor are presented as these very powerful and dangerous threats to the Hotel and that Charlie and Vaggie are probably in way over their heads trying to deal with them.

Buuuttt… then we ALSO have everything that Vivzie has mentioned behind-the-scenes about the class and power rankings of Hell. Specifically, the fact that apparently only the most powerful of the Overlords like Valentino and Alastor can be considered simply on par with the Goetic Nobility like Stolas in terms of power. Or even more notably, the fact that Charlie herself is apparently just as, if not MORE powerful than the Kings of SIN.

And thanks to Helluva Boss, we have a pretty good idea just HOW POWERFUL the likes of Asmodeus, Bee-lzebub and Mammon are. Which in turn could very well be giving us a hint of just how powerful Charlie might be.

Basically, I have a hunch that both the audience AND the Sinners (even those close to Charlie like Angel Dust) are MASSIVELY underestimating just how POWERFUL the Princess of Hell REALLY is. Like how her normally upbeat, friendly, ‘Disney Princess’, ‘Just wants to help everyone’ demeanor belies the fact that she may very well be fully capable of obliterating the likes of Valentino, Vox or even Alastor with EASE if she really wanted to.

Imagine if this ends up being a big reveal at some point? Like we get these subtle hints in the early episodes that Charlie may be quite a bit more powerful than she’s really letting on, perhaps by giving us a glimpse at what her parents are capable of. Until at some point one of the Overlords just takes things a bit too far. Say, Valentino is getting ready to full-on destroy the hotel, or about to straight-up kill Angel Dust for good with one of those Blessed Weapons we know are floating around?

Only for Charlie to just straight up DELETE Val with a metaphorical snap of her fingers.

And before I go into the broader narrative implications of all this, it’s also worth mentioning that this deliberate underestimation could apply to Vaggie as well. Because if Vaggie really is a former Exorcist, ie; a Fallen Angel like a lot of people are theorizing, this would likely mean that she’s fully capable of permanently killing Sinners, even the Overlords, if she really wanted to. Meaning that while Vaggie might not be as powerful as Charlie, she is no less DEADLY.

(As an aside, regarding the ‘mechanics’ of what could make Charlie so dangerous to sinners beyond simply raw power: We know that Sinners can only permanently die to Angelic Weapons. In other words, the ‘Holy’ power of the Angels and Heaven destroys them for good. And remember who Charlie’s father is? Not just an angel, but one of the most powerful angels to ever exist.)

What I find so interesting about all this is that it could completely upend a lot of the character and power dynamics we might be expecting. For example, totally recontextualizing Alastor’s motivations in supporting Charlie and her Hotel; as powerful as he might be, he’s still far beneath Charlie.

As well as introduce what could be Charlie’s real personal conflict and arc for the show. Because Charlie still wants to HELP the sinners of Hell, and almost certainly doesn’t want to be or act like some all-powerful being lording over subjects they consider fall beneath them. Even though she could.

And of course, being an ultimate overlord is very likely what Lucifer will be ENCOURAGING Charlie to be. Which in turn feeds nicely into Charlie’s conflict with her father.

Finally, let’s consider Charlie’s motivation, paired with what she could become: She wants everyone to be happy and safe and generally the best, and she has the absolute POWER to IMPOSE her idea of ‘happiness’ and ‘goodness’ on others if she really wanted to.

Now is it just me, or does that sound a LOT like what we saw of HEAVEN in Helluva Boss?

What if Hazbin Hotel ultimately presents Heaven, the Angels and possibly God him/her/themself as the TRUE antagonist of the show, AND a full-on villainous counterpart to Charlie?

[kaiser1ns]

#. YOU CAN CALL ME MONSTER

featuring 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

angst. takiishi chika was the one completely covered in flames and you are the one who will burn his world down.

recommended to listen to exo's "monster" because i worked with the lyrics and that song screams takiishi chika

Why is his heart racing? The way you look at him got him going crazy, you are truly beautiful, a goddess, a force powerful enough to destroy everything. From the feral Umemiya Hajime to the cruel Endo Yamato and the bloodthirsty Takiishi Chika — you remain the most terrifying. A sadistic, tyrannical woman who Takiishi let into his already dull world.

There’s curiosity in your eyes, you’ve already fallen for him but won’t let him in. He’ll knock one, two, and a thousand times, so will you answer him, will you let him into your heart? Don’t be afraid, they say love is the way, it keeps you on safe ground, a place where its roots start to sprout deep into the ground...but what if the soil doesn't allow it? The same ground is falling apart, covered in ashes, it’s unstable and destructive.

You can't help it, it's just a habit, you do this for fun. You are not afraid to cause a scene whenever you want, you do it all the time and this is how it's going to be. Takiishi stands before you, his eyes are wide and burning, and you know what he sees — a girl who is on the brink of madness. He can call you a monster if he wants, and he can kill you if he feels like it. You can feel the pain coursing through your body, but it only sharpens your focus: pain is your most trusted friend, not your enemy. Slipping under his guard, delivering a sharp elbow to his ribs, as his groans and whimpers are music to your ears.

You are dangerous, if anyone gets in your way you will never stop til you get everything you want. You are on the top now, higher than the king and queens, mightier than God himself, ruling the world made by chaos. You are just getting started, as you see fireworks in the sky and bodies on the ground. In your beautiful black dress you dance, the red pool and the colors dancing above. Where is everyone hiding? It's time to celebrate, it's a funeral to many, to your morals and values, they are probably long gone. So is your sanity, as you laugh and smile like a maniac. Destruction and chaos, no one can run from them, and nobody will survive when you are there causing them.

Lunging at him with a speed that belies your injuries, your movements are precise, your fists connect with his jaw followed up with a swift kick to his stomach. But he’s also not done yet. He swings, aiming for your head, but you duck, spinning behind him. Before he can react, your hands are on his face, cupping his cheeks so softly, your lovestruck eyes, betraying the violence as you stare at him. There’s something in his eyes—fear? Love? It’s hard to tell. But you don’t care. You slam his head against the wall with a sickening thud, the impact reverberating through your hands. He grunts but recovers quickly, you can tell he’s holding back, still underestimating you.

A fatal mistake.

You grab his collar and hurl him to the ground with a monstrous strength, your grip stronger than steel or any metal, you can't reshape or melt despite his hotness. His body hits the floor, and you waste no time driving your foot into his face. So beautiful, your one and only love.

But Takiishi catches your leg with his hand, yanking you off balance and sending you crashing down beside him. You hit the ground hard, but you’re already moving, twisting your body to get back on your feet. The dance between you continues, two burning flames consuming everything in their path, neither willing to fade out, it is not about who will die first, but who will dominate the other.

You are creeping into his heart, flipping over and breaking him down until you swallow him up. Even if you die, you will live forever because you got yourself engraved in his heart, body and soul—you messed him up and now you will pay and collect your debts. He doesn't recognise you or himself anymore. Out of your minds. To love is to be changed.

Don't let this blissful moment slip away, you are both going crazy, and this day will be remembered for eternity. There's so much to give you—he doesn't need no money, no material benefits—he only wants you. He wants you so bad.

You are a monster.

A bit impatient and not that gentle, a woman of many faces and masks. You thrive on conflict, creating it, nurturing it, watching as it grows and consumes everything in its path. It’s all a game to you, where you always win because you’ve written the rules. You are addicted to the thrill of it, the way it makes your heart race, the way it brings a sick smile to your lips when you make your love bleed.

But he wants you, that's right you are his type, his heart doesn't lie, not when it sends a dangerous signal and you know you make him feel a tremble, he is crazy for you, you know that, you always did. Everyone’s afraid of him, the so-called strongest but he is nothing but a boy with burning desires to have fun. In the end, you can’t reject him, hiding and stealing glances at him, then pretend to be surprised when he looks your way. He’s a part of your existence and you will make sure to destroy him by loving him.

To accept you for who you are, worry has no place here, not when you show such strong attraction to each other. Enjoy the agony that you’re able to endure, as he falls deeper inside in his own world, thinking that it's gonna be the same pattern, the same old way but then again it's your game, with your rules. Play with him however you want as you lash out with relentlessness force, each punch harder than the last, each punch showcasing your affection. He doesn’t fight back; he never does. Your strength surpasses his, and he knows it.

Bruises form under your knuckles, but he takes it all, absorbing the pain like a twisted confession of love. You’re a beast consumed by the madness inside you—stronger, more ferocious than anyone he's ever faced, yet he does nothing but take your blows. You're a monster, they say—insane to the core—but this insanity is yours to own, and for him to enjoy.

You are his monster, insane and fierce, burning his world to the ashen ground and building it again and again, until he finally gives up...until you finally let him in.

taglist :: @nyxypoo @meidiary @maruflix @heartkaji @stunie @slerixx @mydream-synopsis @kiurona

thank you mei, zevie and ke for doing a beta read, i love yall mwah🫶🏻

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[benijbol]

ꔫ Whims and Whatnot

A/N; This isn't usually my territory but there's bound to be a first for everything lol. just hope my friends don't stumble upon this..

Summary; Davos teaches you how to wield a sword, possibly more.

WARNINGS; 18+ smut, basically public sex. MDNI.

2383 words

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

It was a crisp autumn afternoon in the sprawling courtyard of Raventree Hall. The air was thick with the scent of fallen leaves, and the cold bite of impending winter was creeping into every corner. The ancient weirwood tree stood sentinel in the distance, its blood-red leaves whispering secrets to the wind. The stone walls of the courtyard, weathered by centuries of Blackwood history, seemed to absorb the fading sunlight, casting long shadows that danced across the cobblestones.

You had been wandering around the courtyard, your mind heavy with the weight of the day’s events. Your feet had led you to the training grounds, where the clang of steel on steel usually echoed throughout the day. But now, it was quiet. Most of the guards were off duty, and the practice dummies stood alone, their straw-stuffed bellies waiting for the next beating.

You hadn't expected anyone to be here. Certainly not him. But then again, Davos Blackwood was always full of surprises.

Davos was leaning against one of the wooden posts, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he watched you approach. His broad shoulders were draped in a thick black cloak, the deep red of his tunic peeking through as the wind tousled the strands of his midnight-black hair. His expression was one of lazy curiosity, the kind that said he was already planning something mischievous.

“You know,” Davos drawled, pushing himself off the post with a grace that belied his size, “I’ve been thinking.”

“That sounds dangerous,” you shot back, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

His grin widened, showing off a set of teeth that were far too white for someone who spent as much time in the dirt as he did. “Dangerous, aye. But sometimes, danger is worth the risk.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart skipped a beat nonetheless. There was something about the way Davos moved, the way he looked at you, that made your skin prickle with anticipation. Maybe it was the intensity in his gaze, or maybe it was the fact that he was standing just a little too close, the warmth of his body seeping through the layers of your clothing.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “I’m going to teach you how to wield a sword.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Out of the blue? Just like that?”

He shrugged, an infuriatingly casual gesture. “Just like that. Unless you’re afraid.”

The challenge in his tone was impossible to ignore. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, and he was doing it on purpose. You squared your shoulders and stepped closer, the tips of your boots brushing against his.

“I’m not afraid,” you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach.

“Good,” he murmured, his eyes darkening as they met yours. “Then let’s begin.”

Davos took a step back, reaching for a sword that had been leaning against the training post. He handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours as he did. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm, making you acutely aware of just how close he was standing.

“Grip it like this,” he instructed, wrapping his hands around yours on the hilt. His chest was pressed against your back now, his breath warm on your ear as he leaned in. “Not too tight. You want to be firm but flexible.”

“Firm but flexible,” you repeated, trying to focus on his words and not the way his body was practically enveloping yours.

“Exactly,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Now, raise it. Slowly.”

You did as he said, lifting the sword in front of you. It felt heavier than you expected, the weight of it pulling at your muscles in a way that was both exhilarating and daunting.

“Good,” Davos murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your body. “Now, keep your stance wide. Feet apart, like this.” He nudged your legs with his knee, spreading them slightly.

The movement brought him even closer, his thigh pressed firmly against your backside. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the solidness of his body against yours. It was distracting, to say the least.

“Are you even paying attention?” he asked, amusement lacing his words.

“Of course,” you lied, though the breathiness of your voice gave you away.

Davos chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Liar,” he murmured, but there was no malice in his tone. If anything, he sounded… pleased.

He moved one of his hands from the hilt to your waist, guiding you as you took a step forward. The sword wobbled slightly in your grip, but he steadied it with his other hand, his fingers tightening over yours.

“Don’t think too much,” he said, his lips brushing against your temple now. “Feel it. The sword is an extension of your arm. Let it move with you.”

His hand on your waist slid lower, resting on your hip as he guided you through a series of slow, deliberate movements. Each time you took a step, his body followed, his chest pressed against your back, his breath warm against your skin.

It was intoxicating, the way he was so close, so present. The world around you seemed to blur, the only thing in focus was the feel of his hands on you, the sound of his voice in your ear.

“Good,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that made your heart flutter. “You’re getting the hang of it.”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking about the swordplay or the way your body was instinctively leaning into his. Probably both.

“Now,” he said, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, “let’s try something a bit more challenging.”

Before you could protest, he spun you around, the sword slipping from your grip as he pressed you against the wooden post. The rough texture of the wood bit into your back, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way Davos was looking at you.

His eyes were burning with something intense, something primal. His hands were on either side of your head, caging you in as he leaned down, his breath mingling with yours.

“You’re supposed to be teaching me how to wield a sword,” you managed to say, though your voice was more breathless than you intended.

“And I am,” he replied, his voice a low growl. “But this… this is just as important.”

Before you could ask what he meant, his lips were on yours, hot and insistent. The kiss was a clash of teeth and tongues, a battle of wills that left you both breathless. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you, his arousal unmistakable through the layers of clothing.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The sword lay forgotten at your feet, the only weapon you were interested in now was the one he was wielding between his legs.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull your tunic over your head, his hands eager and impatient as they roamed over your exposed skin. You shivered at the contact, the cool air making your nipples pebble as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. You gasped, your back arching as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive flesh, his other hand sliding down to undo the laces of your trousers.

“Davos,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper as he tugged your trousers down, his fingers trailing over the soft skin of your thighs.

He hummed in response, his lips trailing down your stomach as he knelt in front of you. The sight of him there, between your legs, looking up at you with those dark, hungry eyes, made your heart race.

“Davos, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that had you gripping his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his tunic.

He was relentless, his tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you to the brink of madness. Every flick of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, sent waves of pleasure crashing through you. You were vaguely aware of the way your legs were shaking, of the sounds that were escaping your lips, but all you could focus on was the intense pleasure that was building inside you.

When you finally came, it was with a cry that echoed through the empty courtyard, your body shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Davos held you steady, his hands firm on your thighs as he continued to lick and suck, drawing out every last drop of your orgasm.

When you finally sagged against the post, your breath coming in ragged gasps, Davos stood, his eyes with satisfaction as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You taste better than victory,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he leaned in to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on his lips was strangely intoxicating, and you found yourself kissing him back with renewed fervor.

But this time, it wasn’t just a kiss. This time, it was a declaration.

His hands were everywhere—on your waist, sliding down to your hips, gripping your thighs as he hoisted you up against the wooden post. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, all-consuming and relentless. The world around you had ceased to exist; all that mattered was the heat of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, the feel of his strong hands holding you up as if you weighed nothing at all.

The rough texture of the wood bit into your back, but it only heightened your senses, made the contrast between it and the heat of Davos’ body even more intoxicating. His hand fumbled between your bodies, and you heard the rustle of fabric as he freed himself, his breath hitching as he guided himself to your entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and strained, as if he was barely holding himself back.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as you felt the head of his cock brush against your slick folds. The anticipation was almost unbearable, every nerve ending in your body on high alert as you waited, waited for that delicious moment when he would finally—

He thrust into you with one swift motion, filling you completely. You gasped, your head falling back against the post as pleasure ripped through you. The stretch was intense, but it was exactly what you needed, what you had been craving without even realizing it.

Davos groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he held himself still, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of him inside you. But you didn’t need time. You needed him to move, to take you, to claim you in a way that left no doubt as to who you belonged to.

“Move,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a low growl, he pulled back and thrust into you again, harder this time, his hands gripping your hips as he set a punishing pace. Each thrust drove you further up the post, the rough wood scraping against your back, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the feel of him inside you, the way his cock filled you so completely, so perfectly.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he drove into you again and again, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. You could feel the tension building inside you, that tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter with each thrust, until you were sure you were going to snap.

“Davos,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper as you clung to him, “I’m—”

“I know,” he growled, his pace quickening, his movements growing more erratic. “I’ve got you.”

And with that, you shattered. The orgasm tore through you, a wave of pleasure so intense that it left you breathless, your entire body shaking as you came undone in his arms. Davos groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as he found his own release.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The only sounds were the ragged breaths you both were drawing, the only sensation the feel of his body pressed against yours, still intimately connected. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, a steady thrum that matched your own.

Slowly, as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, reality began to creep back in. The cool autumn air brushed against your heated skin, the rough texture of the post against your back became more pronounced, and you became acutely aware of the sticky, intimate connection between your bodies.

Davos was the first to move, slowly easing out of you, his hands still holding you steady as he gently lowered you back onto your feet. Your legs felt like jelly, and you wobbled slightly, but he was there, as always, steady and strong, holding you up when you needed it most.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign of regret or discomfort. But there was none. All you felt was a deep, bone-deep satisfaction, and maybe a bit of disbelief at what had just happened.

You stood there like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around you fading into the background. It was only when the chill of the evening began to creep in that you finally pulled away, though not without a lingering kiss that left you both breathless once more.

[donat-senpai]

This work lay in drafts for a very long time. Now I have translated everything. Woohoo! (Reminder: English is not my native language. There are mistakes here)

Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! Pairing: Yandere! Ketheric Thorm x Reader, Yandere! Enver Gortash x Reader, Yandere! Orin the Red x Reader tw: platonic obsession, manipulation, restriction of freedom, mention of murders

I'm ready to throw an idea at you. Attention. You get into the bg3. BUT you aren't Tav and you aren't together with Tav. You find yourself among the Chosen Three. And they become platonic yandere!

Ketheric Thorm, Enver Gortash and Orin the Red will know that you know about their future. You know how to achieve certain events, as well as how to prevent it. Keeping you close is not only a necessary measure, but also an advantage. From now on, they must do everything to prevent Tav from finding out about you and taking you away.

You spend the least amount of time with Ketheric Thorm. As the leader of the army, he is always in the most dangerous places of the war. Besides, the Moonrise Towers are a dangerous place. There are a lot of killers there. You are usually in full view of Ketheric. Over time, you begin to get used to it. Ketheric listens, but often doesn't pay attention. You can tell him anything. At this time he goes about his business, sometimes nodding to you. But if you suddenly ask him a question, he will simply look at you menacingly, making you afraid. The old man is not angry. He just didn't remember anything you said and doesn't want to admit it. Your voice helps him not to worry. If you're still talking, it means you haven't been eaten. Therefore, he can continue his business. When you leave the Moonrise Towers, Ketheric looks with bitterness at the things you leave behind. It reminds him of the times when he was still a father. Perhaps he will put your drawing or note in one of his books.

Orin will become friend or foe depending on your decision. If you refuse to help them, She will find ways to make you talk. Her ideas about the world are very perverted, so friendship with Orin barely differs from enmity. She will take great pleasure in fooling around with you. She likes to scare you by telling you colorful ways of killing you. You will probably not be able to make friends because of her. It's hard to trust someone and tell your secrets when that someone could be Orin herself. She will need time to convince Gortash and Ketheric to allow you to visit the Bhaal’s Temple. They don't trust Orin. The more disgusted you are by the atmosphere of her temple, the more fun she will experience. In the depths of his bedroom, Orin will get a little soft. She will let you play with her hair. And she will talk about the teachings of Bhaal, but not with the intention of scaring, but with the desire to share something hidden for her. She will also want to teach you how to make a sacrifice to her god correctly. If you refuse, she will be upset, but will not insist. (Gortash made it clear to her that she should not break you.) Then she brings you back and avoids you for a week or two. It's new for her to feel this way. Not even her family received this honor. When she calms down and copes with unusual emotions, she will visit you again. And she will promise to kill you in the most beautiful way possible when necessary. It's not a threat. This is her expression of love.

It is with Lord Gortash that you spend the most time. His castle is safe, and the Steel Watchers walk around the city everywhere. You are well dressed and always look great to match him. High society is asking questions about who you are to him. Are you a lover, relative, decoration or pet? Only you and Gortash know that you are a means to achieve his goals. And only Lord Gortash knows that you are someone he has grown more attached to than he should have. He gives you almost anything you want, but expects you to cooperate in return. In addition, Gortash believes that just looking beautiful next to him is not enough. Therefore, all your free time (which is not much) will be occupied with training. If you escape from the castle (which is absolutely impossible), the guards will bring you back. Gortash is perhaps the only one among the owners of three stones who understands that your usefulness is not constant. Everything can go along the route you know with minor changes in his favor. Or it may happen that what is happening will become completely new even for you. Sometimes he jokes that he will throw you out when you become useless. But you still remember how Lord Gortash got angry at the impudent Count for asking to take you as his wife and Gortash ordered the insolent man to be executed.

----

Somewhere in the universe, the Emperor turns the table in a rage and demands Tav to quickly find and save (kidnap) you. (I don't know how he found out about you ._.)

----

Tav sighs tiredly and silently agrees. They're too tired of all. They just hope that their new future ally will be a little less problematic than everyone else in the camp.

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Imagine #2

Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes

Word Count: 840

QZ boyfriend Joel who has never publicly said he's you're boyfriend, but it's just known between you both that he's yours and you're his.

QZ boyfriend Joel who likes to know where you're going and when you'll be back (not in a controlling way, but that's just how dangerous QZ life is) Who knows deep down it's unlikely that anyone would threaten you lest they want to face his legendary fury, but it brings him peace of mind to know your whereabouts in case you ever need him. Who's always ready to pounce if a man even looks at you disrespectfully.

QZ boyfriend Joel who's quick temper has always controlled his mouth, sometimes snapping and saying things he really doesn't mean during an argument. Who internally hates himself when he sees the tears you've been tying so hard to hold back. Who when things have calmed somewhat, will apologise sincerely and tell you he'll try to do better instead of blowing up, and makes sure you know how much you mean to him, even though he'll never say the three words you want to hear; but he does, so fucking much!

QZ boyfriend Joel who's often harsh, blunt and violent - when needed- with people, but is always soft and caring when it comes to his girl, especially when you're having another tough day, who holds you firmly in his strong arms when you wake in a blind panic from another nightmare. Who feels a sense of relief and purpose when his embrace and the low timbre of his voice helps to sooth you back to sleep.

QZ boyfriend Joel who feels terrible when he leaves on a smuggling run with Tess and has to leave you behind, no matter how much you protest (he actually finds your pouting to be quite cute on times, but he'll never tell you that) Who knows that if anything ever happened to you it would be the end of him. He'd rather you mad at him than dead or... worse.

QZ boyfriend Joel who's secretly flattered when you get jealous of the time he spends with Tess. Who has told you time and again, there's no one else for him but you (and it's true. He could never imagine being with anyone else) and that the only reason he bothers with Tess is because she's one of the best smugglers in the QZ.

QZ boyfriendJoel who instantly dislikes any man (except for the few you both know) who tries talking to you, who sees any other man as a potential threat to your safety. After all, this is hell on earth and when society crumbles so do the morals and decency of a lot of men.

QZ boyfriend Joel who sometimes finds his mind drifting to the old world, wishing he could give you everything you deserve in life. It's why he became a smuggler in the first place, so you will never need for ration cards.

QZ boyfriend Joel who fucks nasty. Who, when he's had a bad day, won't even talk about it at first. Instead he'll grab you and bend you over the nearest piece of furniture, ripping your trousers and panties down without even opening the button (so many ration cards wasted on new buttons). Who, before pushing himself inside your waiting tunnel, leans over you into your ear, asking if you remember the safe word. Who, when he's gets the confirmation he needs, spears himself into you, fucking you at a brutal pace until you're soaking not just his cock, but the tops of his thighs too. Who, after he has fucked out all of his frustrations, cleans you up and holds you like you are fine china. Only then will he tell you about his shitty day.

QZ boyfriend Joel who makes love to you with a tenderness and devotion that belies his gruff and intimidating exterior. Who always makes sure you come before he slides into you, eating you out like a man devouring his last meal (which in this world, it could very well be) Who pushes deep and slow into you, dragging himself against your sweet spot and only speeding up the snap of his hips when you want him to go faster. Who whispers words of affection against your neck as you throw your head back in ecstasy, crying out his name. Who holds you in his arms all night long, watching the flutter of your eyelids and listening to your soft breaths, wishing you could both stay in this moment forever and not have to face another gruelling day tomorrow.

QZ boyfriend Joel who will stop at nothing to make a better life for you both outside the QZ. Who traded three months worth of saved up ration cards for a dodgy old car battery. Who promises that very soon, you'll both leave the QZ and start a new life in Jackson, where his brother lives.

QZ boyfriend Joel who will get you out of here if it's the last thing he does!

[randomhealer]

ℬ𝓁𝓊ℯ 𝒲ℯ𝒷

warnings: Obsessive behaviors, yandere characters, GN reader, murder half described, not reviewed, Tumblr wasn't accepting my post since 3am so it changed it itself, theory for who owns the last sentence

♡₊˚ 🕸・₊✧

You don't know how lucky you are to have good friends...

Kamisato Ayato, your long time friend, with a calm and relaxed facade, your friend who helped you stop the bullies who were messing with you, honestly you were happy when all the torment ended but where did the boys who messed with you go? Ayato says they all got detention from school...

Kamisato ayato...for you, a kind, hard-working, intelligent boy. Kamisato ayato...a manipulator... a sweet friendship with every step forged and meticulously planned like a piece for a treat. whispers say that he is the owner of a powerful faction and that his influence extended far beyond the city limits, he was a shadow that no bad soul wanted to cross, two-face, having him as an enemy was worse than having the devil. ..such whispers that soon disappeared from the world soon after saying such rumors around...

Sunday... a boy from a very well-known and important family, exuded an air of elegance and sophistication that belied his true nature. You never thought you would catch the attention of someone so important, but here he is...always bumping into you and talking to you at school.

Little do you know, oh poor innocent soul falling into the web of two dangerous demons, the bright blue web calling you to fall and drown in your own innocence.

both finding themselves in a sick love for you, something silly for them...it's not obsession, it's love...pure love over an innocent and clean soul, both having knowledge of each other, knowing your every step, shadows you They spy on your house, every day both families have eyes for you. and he has eyes for his friends and family too...

From lavish gifts to whispered promises of eternal love, they've done everything to win the reader's heart without having to break their facade.

a chance. while you have your freedom, your sanity, your innocence and your legs intact... You can choose between them, the choice is yours, but remember any step you take has a big consequence... you are walking on glass here.

Ayato's hand squeezed yours a little, his smile that could have been genuine before disappeared just for a fraction of a second as he watched you exchange kindness with Sunday, his gaze meeting Sunday's who smiled gracefully as he held your hand a little. little more, he looked from beneath his eyelashes with a feeling of hatred, disgust and mockery at Ayato.

while looks mix with hatred and jealousy creating thoughts about killing the other between the two men and you are oblivious to everything as you mumble some things to Sunday, who looks at you with a smile and waves. Of course, he listens to your every word despite his thought being that only Ayato would disappear from his sight...

Cute moments, sure... Ayato sharing his drink with you, Ayato giving you a light kiss on the forehead for being able to do all his math homework, Sunday buying you expensive things, Sunday letting you play with his hair...

but you're not stuck with just two people, you have more friends and a free life to live...right? bad choice...

16/04... A body was discovered, this morning three people were found dead in a state of advanced decomposition...The victims were...

These weren't the guys who bullied you?

...26/04... a body was found today in a river in an abandoned park, a couple was walking when they saw a hand floating in the small lake...

This...wasn't this the guy you met a few weeks ago at the cafe? he had given you his number after he spilled coffee on you...

03/05... a body of a teenager was found today near the... ...the cause of death has not been found yet, but the body was dismembered and appeared to have signs of torture... we ask all citizens in the area to be careful and Don't go out late at night...

This... was the guy in the class next to yours who you were going to meet in a few days...

...

...

...

You don't know what's going on...a serial killer on the loose...? or just a big coincidence of deaths? You're getting scared to even go home alone...

a sweet and familiar voice breaks your thoughts as you walk, you stop walking as you hear the footsteps reach you and a voice whisper sweetly "my dear...you shouldn't keep coming back alone, didn't you hear what's happening? let me accompany you to your home."

I've been trying to post this since 3 am and Tumblr won't let me??? I haven't even been to Penacony yet lol

[reaper2187]

Wonder woman x villian female reader

The city of Themyscira was bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. Diana Prince, also known as Wonder Woman, watched as the shadows lengthened across the pristine landscape. She felt a strange sense of calm that evening, a serenity that belied the turmoil of her double life. As a hero, she was committed to fighting evil and protecting the innocent. Yet, she harbored a secret that could shatter everything she stood for.

Diana’s secret was Y/N, known to the world as The Reaper. Y/N was a formidable villain, a master of stealth and strategy, whose plans often brought her into direct conflict with Wonder Woman. Despite their opposing roles, an undeniable connection had blossomed between them, one that neither could ignore.

It had started months ago, during one of their many confrontations. They had been battling in the heart of Metropolis, their powers clashing in a symphony of destruction. Wonder Woman had cornered The Reaper in an abandoned warehouse, prepared to deliver the final blow.

“Give it up, Reaper!” Diana had shouted, her lasso of truth gleaming in her hand.

Y/N had smirked, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and something else—something that made Diana’s heart skip a beat. “You know I won’t,” she had replied, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down Diana’s spine.

In that moment, something shifted. Instead of striking, Diana had hesitated, allowing The Reaper to escape. Their encounters after that were charged with an intensity that went beyond their roles as hero and villain. It wasn’t long before they found themselves drawn to each other, meeting in secret, away from prying eyes.

Tonight, they had arranged to meet in an isolated glen, hidden deep within the forests surrounding Themyscira. Diana arrived first, her heart pounding with anticipation. She paced nervously, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. What if someone found out? What if Y/N was playing her?

Before she could dwell too long on her fears, she heard a soft rustle in the bushes. Turning, she saw Y/N step into the clearing, her dark costume blending seamlessly with the shadows. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them ceased to exist.

“Diana,” Y/N said, her voice soft and filled with affection.

Diana closed the distance between them in a few strides, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. “Y/N,” she whispered, burying her face in the crook of her lover’s neck. “I’ve missed you.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around Diana, holding her close. “I’ve missed you too,” she murmured. They stood like that for a long time, savoring the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, they pulled apart, though their hands remained entwined. They sat down on the soft grass, leaning against each other. The forest around them was alive with the sounds of nature, a gentle symphony that provided the perfect backdrop for their stolen moments.

“How have you been?” Diana asked, her thumb brushing over Y/N’s knuckles.

“Busy,” Y/N replied with a wry smile. “Trying to stay one step ahead of you is no easy feat.”

Diana chuckled, a warm, melodious sound that made Y/N’s heart flutter. “I suppose it isn’t. But you seem to manage it quite well.”

Y/N’s smile faded slightly, and she turned to look at Diana, her expression serious. “Diana, we need to talk about us.”

Diana’s heart clenched with fear. “What do you mean?”

“This,” Y/N gestured between them. “It’s dangerous. If anyone found out, it could destroy us both.”

Diana sighed, knowing Y/N was right. Their relationship was a precarious balancing act, one that could tip into disaster at any moment. “I know,” she said quietly. “But I can’t give you up, Y/N. I love you.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she cupped Diana’s cheek, her thumb brushing gently over her skin. “I love you too, Diana. More than you know. But we have to be careful.”

Diana leaned into Y/N’s touch, her eyes closing briefly as she savored the sensation. “I don’t want to be careful,” she admitted. “I want to be with you. Completely.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. The vulnerability in Diana’s voice was both heartbreaking and beautiful. “I want that too,” she whispered. “But we have to find a way to make it work. Without risking everything.”

Diana opened her eyes, meeting Y/N’s gaze. “We will,” she said with determination. “We’ll find a way.”

Over the next few weeks, Diana and Y/N continued to meet in secret, their love for each other growing stronger with each stolen moment. They devised intricate plans to ensure their meetings went unnoticed, using their skills and resources to cover their tracks. Despite the constant danger, they found solace in each other’s arms, a refuge from the chaos of their lives.

One evening, as they lay together under the stars, Diana turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on her face. “What if we didn’t have to hide?” she asked.

Y/N frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“What if we found a way to work together?” Diana suggested. “To use our skills for good, instead of fighting each other?”

Y/N considered this, a spark of hope igniting in her chest. “You think we could?”

“I know we could,” Diana said with conviction. “We’re stronger together, Y/N. We could make a real difference.”

Y/N smiled, the idea filling her with a sense of possibility. “You’re right. We could be unstoppable.”

From that night on, they began to plot a new course. By day, they maintained their roles as hero and villain, playing their parts to perfection. But in the shadows, they worked together, using their combined strength and intelligence to tackle threats that neither could face alone.

Months passed, and their secret alliance bore fruit. Crime rates dropped, and a new, mysterious force began to be whispered about in the criminal underworld. The world saw the results, but no one knew the true source of this new power.

One night, after a particularly challenging mission, Diana and Y/N returned to their secluded glen. Exhausted but elated, they collapsed onto the grass, their laughter echoing through the trees.

“We did it,” Y/N said, her eyes shining with pride.

Diana turned to her, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Yes, we did.”

Y/N reached out, her fingers intertwining with Diana’s. “I don’t know what the future holds,” she said softly. “But I know that as long as we’re together, we can face anything.”

Diana squeezed her hand, her heart swelling with love. “I feel the same way,” she replied. “Together, we’re unstoppable.”

As the moon rose high above them, casting its silver light over the glen, Diana and Y/N lay side by side, their hands still clasped. In that moment, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, their love would see them through.

The world continued to turn, filled with its endless battles and conflicts. But in the quiet moments, in the hidden corners of the world, Diana and Y/N found peace. They were heroes and villains, lovers and fighters, bound together by a love that defied the very forces that sought to tear them apart.

And in the end, that love was their greatest strength.

[moonselune]

Minthara finally figuring out why a romanced Tav walks through cities like there's not danger upon meeting their family. She ends up meeting an older drow who introduced themselves as Tav's former personal guard. It can also make other things click like certain fighting stances are like a drow fighting style.

I made it an elf!reader so the plot made a bit more sense hope you enjoy it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ���: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara x Elf!Noble!reader | Now it makes sense

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara had always been puzzled by the way you walked through cities with an air of unshakable confidence. It was as if you believed yourself to be untouchable, moving through the bustling streets with a grace and poise that belied any hint of danger. It wasn't until she joined you for a formal dinner at your family estate that she began to understand the source of your serene assurance.

The estate was a grand affair, sprawling and opulent, reflecting the high status of your elven noble lineage. As you walked her through the halls adorned with intricate tapestries and golden accents, Minthara felt an odd mixture of admiration and curiosity. You introduced her to various family members, each one more elegant and refined than the last. Yet, there was a warmth in your interactions that made Minthara feel surprisingly welcome.

As dinner commenced in the grand dining hall, Minthara found herself seated next to you, the table laden with an array of exquisite dishes. The conversation flowed easily, and she couldn't help but notice how relaxed you seemed in this environment, contrasting sharply with the intense focus you exhibited in battle.

Halfway through the meal, an older drow woman entered the room. She moved with the silent grace of a predator, her eyes sharp and calculating. As she approached the table, you rose to greet her with a smile, which she returned with a nod of respect.

"Minthara," you said, gesturing to the woman, "I would like you to meet Sarya, my former personal guard and teacher."

Minthara's eyes widened slightly in recognition and understanding. Sarya was a figure of legend among the drow, known for her unmatched skill in combat and her unwavering loyalty. It now made perfect sense why you moved with such confidence and exhibited fighting stances that were distinctly drow in origin.

Sarya inclined her head toward Minthara, her eyes glinting with approval. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Minthara. I have heard much about you."

"The pleasure is mine," Minthara replied, her tone respectful. "Your training is evident in Y/N's skill."

Sarya smiled, a rare and genuine expression. "Y/N was an exceptional student, and it seems they have found an equally exceptional partner."

The conversation shifted seamlessly into Drow, the fluid and harsh syllables blending perfectly with the soft elven melodies that filled the hall. "Your elven family is more tolerable than most," Minthara remarked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Sarya chuckled softly. "Indeed. They have always treated me with respect, which is more than I can say for others of their kind."

"Agreed, I am fortunate to have found the exception" Minthara added, as she looked to try and find you, expecting you to be conversing with your siblings, only to be surprised when you appeared at her shoulder.

"Remember, Minthara, I know Drow too, thanks to Sarya's teachings."

Minthara turned to you, her eyes filled with pride and affection. "It all makes sense now, my beloved. Your confidence, your fighting style—everything. ."

"Oh, I get all that from being taught Drow ways? Not at all from my natural personality," You smiled, teasingly cocking a brow at her. Then when Minthara didn't answer instead taking a sip of her wine you looked to Sarya, who also chose to sip her wine. You scoffed and whacked both of them on the side, but before you could walk away Minthara wrapped an arm around your side and brought you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

The rest of the dinner passed with Sarya and your family regaling stories of your youth. One particular story ended in a heated debate on who had broken the carafe gifted by a noble family from Calimshan which ended in you and your siblings tussling and Sarya had to step in one final time.

By the end of the evening, as you walked Minthara back through the estate, you stopped in the gardens, Minthara pulled you close.

"You truly are remarkable," Minthara whispered before drawing you in for a kiss. You smiled and placed your index finger on her lips, pausing her advance

"And I am all yours," you replied with a mischievous smile, stealing the words out of her mouth. Minthara rolled her eyes and cupped your face, your lips melding together in passion. She then pulled away, unable to help herself.

"And you are all mine"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[clairesvalentine]

Hello! I have a request: SFW alphabet for Kuai Liang cause he doesn't get enough attention.

sfw alphabet — kuai liang

note: i’m so sorry for disappearing!! life has been so so so hectic!! i’m back for the time being. also, i’m adding gta 5 to the games i’ll write for :) admin, i’m so sorry for the long wait! i hope you enjoy 🤍 this was really fun to do!!

warnings: none. just pure fluff 🫶🏼

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

kuai liang isn’t the most affectionate in public. he prefers to show his live through actions rather than words. while in public, he’d have a protective presence over you. if he feels like you’re in any danger, he’ll place his hand on your lower back or do whatever he can to watch over you.

however, in private he’s much more affectionate. he’ll gently place his hands on your waist if he has to pass by you. he loves placing soft kisses on any part of your body. whether it’s your shoulder or your cheek, he always wants you to feel appreciated.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

as a best friend, kuai liang is very loyal. you won’t ever have to fear that he’d betray you. if you need him, he’ll be there in an instant. he shows his appreciation by doing tasks for you, even the minor ones. he wants to show you that you can trust him.

you two always had a mutual respect for one another. after you were recruited by liu kang, he had kuai liang train you personally. the two of you grew to have a mutual respect with another. with that respect grew a romantic relationship.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

boy oh boy kuai liang absolutely enjoys cuddling, especially after a long and strenuous day. his cuddles are strong yet tender, making you feel safe in his arms.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

eventually kuai liang would like to settle down. there’s nothing more he would like than to start a family with the person he truly cares about. you guys have had conversations and it’s something that’s rather debated. you’d like to start a family, but with this war starting between his clan and bi-han’s, starting a family would now would not be the best time to do so.

kuai liang isn’t a neat freak per say, but he does tend to keep everything nice and tidy. he’s not at gordon ramsey’s level but he can cook well. he’s always willing to try something new and if he sees that you’re tired, he’ll take over while you rest.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if kuai liang had to break things off with his partner he’d do it with utmost respect and honesty. he’d never want to hurt anyone intentionally, not if you were someone he deeply cared about. it would definitely be face to face, that way he’d be able to express himself better.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

kuai liang deeply values commitment and would not rush into marriage without being absolutely sure. after being betrayed by his bi-han, it’s hard to know when you can trust someone. you never really know who’s working on the other side.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

kuai liang is very gentle, both physically and emotionally. he understands the strength of his abilities and is always careful not to hurt you. he’d never forgive himself if he ended up harming you in any way.

emotionally, he is patient and understanding, ready to listen to you if ever need to vent or ramble about anything that’s bothering you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

kuai liang loves giving you hugs, as well as receiving them. though he mostly reserves them for special moments. his hugs are firm and comforting.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

he would wait until he is one hundred percent sure before saying "i love you." he believes in the weight of those words and wants to ensure they are said sincerely and at the right moment.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

kuai liang doesn’t get jealous that easily, but when he does he tends to do little subtle things. for instance, he’s much more affectionate in public. he’d wrap his arm around you, pulling you as close to him as possible. this usually tends to happen whenever johnny tries to shoot his shot.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

kuai liang’s kisses are tender and deliberate, full of meaning. he likes to kiss you on your forehead, lips, and your shoulders. he enjoys being kissed on the neck, finding it comforting. though he also just likes feeling your lips against his.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

kuai liang is gentle and patient with children. He treats them with respect and enjoys teaching them new things. when he’s training children, he’s stern but patient. unlike bi-han, he treats his trainees like one of his own. training with the shirai ryu is no easy task. he wants his trainees to be the best they could be. children often feel safe and valued in his presence.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

morning with kuai liang are calm and structured. he likes having a good routine and often starts the day with some light exercise or meditation. on the days he isn’t training, he enjoys quiet mornings with you, sharing a cup of tea and conversation. if you’re still asleep, he will make sure that he leaves you some breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

nights with kuai liang are relaxed and peaceful. to unwind, he likes to lay beside you and listen to you ramble for hours until he drifts off to sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

kuai liang reveals things about himself slowly, preferring to build trust over time. he believes in sharing when the moment feels right. with bi-han betraying him and tomas, it's a bit hard to trust people. the fear of people ultimately betraying him in the end hits hard for him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

kuai liang is incredibly patient. it takes a lot for you anger him. however, his patience starts to run thin if he feels as if you're drawing at straws just to argue with him. even then, he'd never yell at you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

kuai liang is not one to forget anything about you. he wants you to know how much he appreciates you. from remembering your birthday to how you like your coffee in the morning. you are his person, he'd do anything to make you happy.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

his favorite moment with you would most likely be a quiet, intimate time spent together. one of this favorite moments with you would have to be when he took you to watch the sunset. it was your all time wish and he just had to grant it for you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

kuai liang is very protective, always looking out for his partner’s safety. with this war going on between his clan and bi-han's new one, he has to ensure that you're safe. whether it's by having you in his sight or by having tomas accompany you, he wants to ensure that you're okay. however, in the off chance that something does happen to you, he will most definitely go after the person to hurt you. for kuai liang, he appreciates being protected emotionally, knowing his partner has his back. loyalty is definitely a big one for him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

kuai liang puts a lot of effort into everything he does, especially when it comes to his partner. dates, anniversaries, and gifts are planned thoughtfully. he pays a bunch of attention to what his partner likes and values.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

though he does try his best to spend his time with you, he does get involved with his work too heavily. with the war against his brother, he has to train his clan to be ready for anything. another one of his "ugly" traits would be his tendency to internalize his stress and emotions, sometimes making it hard for him to open up when he’s struggling. he might also be overly critical of himself.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

kuai liang is moderately concerned with his appearance. he believes in presenting himself well but he doesn’t obsess over it too much. his main focus is on being disciplined and maintaining his physical condition.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

ABSOLUTELY!! you are his entire world. you bring a different kind of balance in his life. without you, he doesn't have that structure or balance.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

kuai liang knows how to play the flute. that's it. that's the tweet. like c'mon!! this man has some musical bone in his body, i'm telling you rn

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he HATES dishonesty and betrayal. in a partner, he values integrity, kindness, and loyalty. he can't be in a relationship where he doesn't trust his partner.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

kuai liang is a light sleeper and often wakes up early. in case of an attack, he has to be up and ready to fight. he prefers to sleep on his back or side.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

The Flu Part 2

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You get the flu. But for someone with your immune system, the flu is never just the flu. Warnings: Flu, references to seizures Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Your eyelids flutter open, the world a blurry haze of white. The sterile smell of healing potions fills your nostrils, and you can hear the faint rustle of robes as someone moves around the room. Your body feels heavy, as if it’s sinking into the bed, each muscle protesting at the slightest movement.

"Easy there," Madam Pomfrey's voice is soft but firm, her hands gentle as they adjust your position on the infirmary bed. "You've been through quite an ordeal."

A groan escapes your lips as pain lances through your skull, sharp and unyielding. Your eyes flicker to the side, catching sight of three familiar figures huddled near the end of your bed: James, Sirius, and Remus. Their expressions are taut with worry, though they try to hide it when they see you stirring.

"Y/N." James' voice is hoarse, his hand clenched tightly around his wand. "How're you feeling?"

How are you supposed to answer that? Every inch of your body screams in protest, the remnants of your third seizure still rippling beneath your skin. But you manage a weak nod, forcing your parched throat to produce words.

"Tired... so tired..."

The boys exchange glances, their concern palpable even from here. It's not often that you find yourself on the receiving end of such attention but somehow, their presence is comforting. They may play the roles of troublemakers well, but right now, their worry for you is genuine.

Madam Pomfrey bustles over, her face a mask of stern concentration as she checks your vitals. Her touch is light, professional, yet there's a gentleness to it that belies her gruff exterior. With a final pat on your arm, she straightens up, turning to face the Marauders.

“Madam Pomfrey," Remus begins, his voice low and steady. "Is she... will she be okay?"

The matron's expression tightens slightly, her gaze flickering back to you. "She's stable for now," she replies, her tone clipped with professional detachment. But there's a hint of worry in the lines around her eyes—a concern that echoes your own.

"Thank Merlin," James mutters under his breath, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Beside him, Sirius is silent, his grey eyes fixed on your prone form with an intensity that speaks volumes.

A soft sigh escapes Madam Pomfrey's lips as she moves away from your bed, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. She pauses by the infirmary's large windows, her silhouette framed against the setting sun.

"I'll do everything I can," she assures them, though her words seem more to herself than anyone else. "But it's not just the seizure or the flu we need to worry about."

Your ears prick up at this, despite the heaviness dragging at your eyelids. You strain to catch their conversation, each word a lifeline in the sea of uncertainty.

"The flu has hit her hard." Her statement hangs heavy in the air, a stark reminder of your fragile state. "And then the seizure... It's taken a toll on her body. She needs time to recover."

"But we've seen her sick before," James protests, his hands clenched into fists. "She always pulls through."

"Not like this," Madam Pomfrey counters softly. "This isn't just a common cold; it's the flu. And with her weakened immune system..."

The silence stretches on, filling the room with a sense of dread neither you nor the boys can shake off.

"We'll monitor her closely," Madam Pomfrey continues after a moment, sounding more composed now. "If there's no improvement, I may have to transfer her to St. Mungo's."

St. Mungo's. The mere mention of the wizarding hospital sends a chill down your spine—not because of any particular aversion to the place itself, but because of what it represents: danger, uncertainty, a level of severity Hogwarts can't handle.

Your throat tightens, and you force yourself to swallow past the lump forming there. You try to sit up, to protest, to tell them you don't need St. Mungo's, but all that comes out is a weak cough.

"Easy now," Madam Pomfrey murmurs, pushing you gently back onto the bed. "You need to rest."

But how can you rest when their words echo in your head, each one heavier than the last?

"She should stay here," Remus insists, his brow furrowed with concern. "We can help look after her."

"It's not about looking after her, Mr Lupin." The matron's tone is patient, yet firm. "It's about getting her the right treatment. The flu can lead to serious complications—pneumonia, bronchitis, even sepsis—and with her immune system, she's particularly susceptible and while we have better treatments than muggles, they still need to be administered in a real hospital."

Susceptible. Another word that hangs heavy in the air, another reminder of how precarious your situation really is. Your mind races, trying to process everything they're saying, but the effort only amplifies your headache.

James and Sirius exchange glances, their worry barely concealed now. They've seen you ill before, yes, but never quite like this. Never with the threat of being sent away looming so large.

Remus' shoulders tense, his gaze fixed on your pale face. He knows what this means—he's seen you weak and weary more times than he cares to count. But this is different. This time, the stakes are higher, and the outcome far less certain.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come. If anyone can keep everyone together during this crisis, it's him. It has to be him.

Time seems to stretch and warp in the hospital wing, each tick of the clock a reminder that you remain bound by your body's weakness. The air is thick with tension as Madam Pomfrey moves around you, her steps measured and precise.

You drift in and out of consciousness, your dreams fevered and disorienting. Images flash behind your eyelids—shadows dancing on the walls, faces distorted by worry, hands reaching for you through the darkness. Each time you stir, you're met with the same reality: the boys gathered at your bedside, their expressions taut with concern.

They take it in turns to watch over you despite Madam Pomfrey’s insistence they leave and get some rest. But even she knows better than to expect them to abandon you now—not when fear hangs heavy in the room like an unspoken promise.

Sirius sits quietly in one corner, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. It's rare to see him this still, this silent, but the gravity of the situation has stripped away his usual bravado. James paces near the foot of your bed, unable to contain his restless energy. Every so often, he runs a hand through his hair—a telltale sign of his growing anxiety.

But it's Remus who remains a constant presence by your side, his focus unwavering. There's a calmness about him that belies the storm brewing beneath the surface—an anchor amidst the waves of uncertainty threatening to pull everyone under.

****

Your fever continues to rage, a relentless fire that saps your strength and leaves you gasping for air. Every breath is an effort now, each one more laboured than the last.

"Still no change?" Sirius's voice cuts through the haze of discomfort, sounding strained.

Madam Pomfrey shakes her head, her expression tight. "I'm afraid not. The fever should have broken by now."

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. A chill runs down James's spine, countering the warmth from his hand as he brushes away damp hair from your forehead. He wants to believe that you'll pull through—that things will go back to normal soon—but the reality before him paints a different picture.

Time loses meaning in the sterile white expanse of the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey comes and goes, her presence marked by the rustle of robes and the clink of potion bottles. She checks your vitals regularly, muttering under her breath. Each passing hour brings new worry lines to her face—a testament to how dire your condition has become.

There's talk of transferring you to St Mungo’s if there's no improvement by morning. It's a possibility none of them want to consider, but it grows more real with every tick of the clock. The thought sends a shiver through Remus, even as he holds your limp hand within his own.

"No," he whispers, so quiet it could be mistaken for the wind outside. "She'll get better. She has to."

But the doubt lingers like a spectre at the edge of their collective consciousness, feeding off the fear that pulses in the silent room.

A low groan escapes your lips, pulling James from his thoughts. His eyes meet yours—clouded with confusion and pain—and something clenches inside him. You try to speak, the effort visible in the crease of your brow, but only raspy breaths come out.

"Shh, Y/N," James coos, squeezing your hand gently. "Don't strain yourself."

But you persist, pushing past the fatigue that threatens to swallow you whole. "Boys... I..." Your voice is barely audible, carried on a whisper-thin thread of air.

"We're here, love." Sirius leans closer, his grey eyes mirroring your struggle.

You manage a nod, your eyelids fluttering shut once again. But even in your weakened state, you hold onto the connection between you—the shared history, the unspoken promises. It anchors you amidst the storm raging inside your body, providing a beacon of hope when all else seems lost.

The night stretches on, each tick of the clock echoing through the stillness. The moon rises high, casting a ghostly light over Hogwarts and painting long shadows across the hospital wing. James, Sirius, and Remus sit by your bed in silent vigil, waiting for any sign of change.

Sirius checks your temperature again, his touch cool against your heated skin. He doesn't need to glance at the thermometer to know the fever is still burning within you—he can feel it radiating off your body, a cruel reminder of the battle being waged inside.

James rubs his hands together, frustration creasing his brow. His gaze flits around the room, lingering on the various potions and charms Madam Pomfrey has used to no avail. There's an itch beneath his skin, a desperation to do something—anything—to help turn the tide, but he feels as powerless as he did when he first found you in the forest.

Remus watches from the corner of his eye, tracing the lines of worry etched deep into their faces. His own expression remains unreadable, the only hint of his inner turmoil revealed in the way his fingers tighten around yours every now and then. He casts another glance at the clock, noting with a heavy heart that it's been hours since your fever spiked.

The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet or sigh of resignation. It's a testament to the gravity of the situation, to the uncertainty hanging heavy in the air. A waiting game—that's what this has become—and they're all too aware of the stakes.

[my-pjo-stuff]

Thalia au but she clocks Percy with lightning as soon as she wakes up and runs to the ta

She tired Luke out

— @doe-has-a-hot-take

OKOKOKOK;SO- For this AU to work Thalia would have to know what the TA even was when waking up from being that tree, right? So how about Thalia, in this AU, having been a ghost?

Like, her body was turned into the tree protecting Camp Halfblood, while her soul became a ghost bound to Camp Halfblood protecting it. So just imagine Thalia, stuck as a ghost where no one can see or hear her. She can't touch anything. All she can do, is forced to do, is to watch. And she hates it. Just imagine Thalia being forced to watch how Annabeth and Luke slowly but surely start to drift apart ever so slightly. Being ripped apart by being sent to different cabins and Luke getting more responsibility. Since she can only watch, and thus is sort of removed from camp and all the activities she can see it a lot more neutral. And oh man if you think LUKE hated camp!? Man you haven't seen Thalia yet. Because how come, despite being promised that this camp would be safe, kids are still getting hurt in these games? Why isn't Chiron taking better care of everyone there? Why is Luke forced to become the main caretaker of 20+ kids so young? No one is there to talk to her or to manipulate her, so that hatred and detestation is festering inside Thalia for YEARS. It all reaches a head when Luke is sent on his quest. Thalia can't leave campgrounds, meaning that as soon as Luke steps outside the boundary all she can do is hope and wait. By now Thalia got used to being lonely most the time, usually hanging around Luke to keep herself entertained (Annabeth reads a lot, much more boring than watching Luke training). But now that he is gone Thalia has nothing to really distract her from all the worry and disdain. When he returns with a scar and no apple all Thalia wants is to be able to comfort him. To be able to hug him, and allow Luke to hear him when she tries to comfort him as he cries despite knowing she's only a ghost.

The fact that camp and the gods not only used Luke as cannon fodder, but also gave him no support after the fact is the last push. Thalia hates the gods- wants to see them overthrown as soon as possible even before Luke. She's the first to notice something being up with Luke. That something being Kronos of course. And honestly? Thalia hates that guy too. Because while yes- she fully understands and even supports Luke in his plans to end the gods, she CANNOT accept some random primordial torturing her friend like that. Luke of course doesn't see it himself, he's angry and hurt and needs the power Kronos offers to achieve his goals. Thalia understands that, doesn't mean she hates it any less. When Luke returns from his trip to Olympus Thalia almost immediately knows what he did despite not having been able to see it. And she's completely torn between worried and proud.

Because on one hand, Luke just stole the Master Bolt. Successfully. He is going to rebel against the gods to achieve a golden age for them all, just like Thalia would have done- wanted to do all this time. She knew she could rely on him, always. But on the other, he's going to be going against the gods. He's going to work with Kronos, all alone with no support.Going against the gods is dangerous, and Thalia would give everything to be allowed to share the burden with Luke. When the pit scorpion scene happens Thalia understands Luke. She is relatively neutral to the Percy kid still, and while she wishes Luke wouldn't have to do this she still knows it had to be done. The real hatred and disgust comes in seeing how people react. Because how come that Annabeth, the little girl Luke and her took care of, only has disdain for him? How come she says "may the gods curse him!" and doesn't even attempt to understand him? How comes she acts to unsurprised? And with horror in her bones does Thalia realize that camp brainwashed her. Made her believe the gods are good and right, and blinded her to reality. And who's the stand in for all that? Right. Percy.

Percy, to Thalia, becomes the representation of everything he hates. He's the gods' and camps' little golden boy. Their champion. Their little puppet spouting their propaganda and doing their dirty work. It doesn't help that with Luke being gone now, all Thalia can do is watch the camp and wallow in her hatred. She only grows to despise camp even more and to despise the gods even more for forcing her into this existence where could do nothing but watch. At the beginning of SoM when Luke comes to poison her tree Thalia has mixed feelings. On one hand, she isn't really in the tree. That is all just her body, the rest of camp merely believes it's her essence too. On the other hand, Luke thinks he's poisoning her. For all he knows he is hurting her for his goals.

Yet Thalia grows to understand and forgive him. She sees how broken up over this he is, she hears him apologizing- saying that it needs to be done and it's for the best. That everything will be fine, and it may hurt now but it'll turn out for the better.

And while she doesn't really understand what Luke wants to do, she trusts him enough to believe him. This ultimately turns out to be the right call when at the end of SoM Thalia is suddenly pulled from whatever she was doing and wakes back up in her body. Which- honestly? At first that was disorienting as fuck. She just spent a good 6 years outside her body and suddenly she's back in it? In a body three years older than she remembered having no less? No one can blame her for needing a good second to figure out what just happened. But when she does? When she does finally figure out what just went down and get's used to her body again? Man you BEST believe that she is NOT staying anywhere close to this camp or these people. When Percy attempts to get to her and talk to her all Thalia can feel is a flash of hot anger at who to her is the embodiment of everything she hates. So in a flash of rage she zaps Percy with lightning and takes off. Not stopping for a second to littel to the horrified screams and questioning wails coming from the crowd.

Getting to the Princess Andromeda was a weird mix out of pure luck, knowing Luke and his way of thinking better than himself and having memorized the look of the ship when Percy saw it from the CHB shore. Luke is......reasonably weirded out by Thalia suddenly turning up.

Like, just imagine doing your revolution and being tortured by your evil overlord for failing to get the golden fleece, and suddenly your childhood crush turns up????? Which, I mean the fact that she's 15 immediately kills of any romantic feelings he ever could have had- DOESN'T MEAN HE'S LESS EMOTIONAL RATTELED BY HER TURNING UP. Poor baby is just so stressed. Thalia being fully (if not more) on his side of "let's overthrow the gods" is great and all but she does NOT like Kronos at ALL. Luckily for him Kronos isn't as angry anymore now that they have the Child of Prophecy on their side- so that's a plus. Unfortunately, Thalia is also weirdly against Kronos which gives Luke heart attacks. Because she can't do stuff like that! What if Kronos finds out!?

She couldn't care less. Thalia tolerates Kronos at best. And then only that under the condition that he doesn't hurt Luke. Kronos meanwhile switches pretty quickly over from Luke to Thalia. He was already ready to replace Luke with Atlas, replacing him with Thalia wasn't that much a reach. Luke is obviously hurt, but accepts it. Thalia takes the role only to A) get Luke away from Kronos and B) to get into a position that would allow her to overthrow the god and Kronos. And in all honesty? This change only makes it worse for Camp. Because while yes, Luke is ruthless- he still is able to be talked down somewhat by the right people who take the right emotional angle. Thalia on the other hand? She spent years alone with her hatred festering. She's fresh out of mercy and wants to see blood. The gods took enough from her and the other demigods, and she's had enough of it. No more suffering for uncaring parents. Luke becomes her right-hand man, her lieutenant, the one who she trusts to take care of things when she isn't there to do it. He goes with it ofcourse, he couldn't refuse her when they were young and he can't refuse now. Even if he is scared of Kronos and scared for Thalia, he agrees to help her when she reveals her plans to overthrow the gods and Kronos.

They always managed to do anything together.

[jglaltacct]

Dark Currents (Intoxicating Fear Fanfic)

II: The Edge of the Knife

@chaotic-orphan

TW: stalking, drugging, intimate whumper, intimidating whumper, disoriented whumpee.

A thin, pale light filtered through the grimy window of Kit’s apartment, casting long shadows across the room. Dust motes hung in the air, untouched by the frail dawn that did little to banish the clinging darkness. The night had been a war of attrition, and now, with the arrival of morning, Kit felt no more victorious than when it had started. His body was heavy, his limbs tingling with the remnants of whatever Ambrose had slipped into his drink, and his mind was a haze of confusion and anger.

In the corner of the small, cluttered apartment, Ambrose stood motionless, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. His expression was unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on Kit with an intensity that made Kit’s skin prickle with unease. There was something about Ambrose that always felt too much—like he took up too much space, like the very air around him warped under the weight of his presence. It had been that way since the moment they’d met, but now, standing on the edge of something neither of them fully understood, it felt suffocating.

Kit pushed himself up from the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. The silence between them was thick, electric, like the air before a storm. He needed answers—needed to know what Ambrose truly wanted, why he was here, and what had driven him to this point. But most of all, Kit needed to understand the strange, twisted connection that seemed to keep pulling them together, no matter how many times he tried to walk away.

Ambrose’s face was shadowed, but his eyes glinted in the low light, dark and unreadable. He stepped forward, his boots crunching softly on the worn wooden floor, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Kit’s pulse quickened, his muscles tensing as Ambrose closed the distance between them, the air between them tight with tension.

"I’m not playing games," Ambrose said, his voice low and gravelly, each word heavy with meaning. "This is about survival."

Kit swallowed hard, his throat dry, his eyes narrowing as he forced himself to meet Ambrose’s gaze. "Survival?" he scoffed, his voice hoarse, barely masking the fear that coiled deep in his gut. "Is that what you call this?"

Ambrose’s lips twitched into a smirk, but there was no humour behind it—only something dark, something primal. "You have no idea what’s coming," he said, his voice a quiet threat. "I’ve sacrificed everything for this. For you."

Kit’s heart stuttered in his chest, his breath catching as Ambrose’s words hung in the air between them. The weight of the night pressed down on him, suffocating, the twisted bond between them thrumming like a live wire. He wanted to push Ambrose away, to demand answers, but his body felt sluggish, weighed down by the lingering effects of whatever had been in his drink. His mind raced, but his limbs were slow to follow, like moving through water.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Ambrose’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp and dangerous. He stepped closer, his presence looming, filling the small space with a suffocating intensity. "This isn’t about what you want."

Kit’s breath hitched as Ambrose’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder with a force that was both possessive and commanding. Kit’s body tensed instinctively, his muscles locking as Ambrose shoved him backward. His legs hit the edge of the bed, and he collapsed onto it with a grunt, the suddenness of the action stealing the air from his lungs.

The mattress creaked beneath him, the springs groaning in protest as Ambrose followed, his movements fluid and predatory. He climbed onto the bed with a grace that belied the danger simmering just beneath the surface, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Kit’s hips.

Kit’s pulse spiked, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as Ambrose’s hands found his wrists, pinning them to the bed with a strength that made Kit’s heart race. The heat of Ambrose’s body pressed down on him, their faces inches apart, and Kit could feel the weight of his gaze, intense and unyielding.

"You don’t understand how far I’m willing to go," Ambrose murmured, his voice low and rough, vibrating with a dangerous edge. His eyes bore into Kit’s, filled with something raw and unrelenting—something that made Kit’s stomach twist with a mix of fear and something darker, something he was too afraid to name.

Kit’s mind screamed at him to fight back, to push Ambrose away, but his body felt frozen, trapped under the weight of Ambrose’s gaze and the suffocating tension that crackled between them. Panic curled in his gut, but he forced it down, glaring up at Ambrose with as much defiance as he could muster.

"Let me go," Kit hissed through gritted teeth, his voice tight with frustration and fear. "You can’t just—"

"I can," Ambrose interrupted, his grip tightening on Kit’s wrists. His tone was a quiet, dangerous promise. "And I will."

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words and the suffocating tension that hung between them. Kit’s chest heaved with shallow breaths, his mind spinning as he tried to make sense of the situation, of the weight behind Ambrose’s words, of the twisted bond that seemed to pull them together despite everything.

"I don’t want your sacrifices," Kit spat, his voice hoarse, barely holding onto the thread of his defiance. "I don’t need them."

Ambrose’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a snarl. His fingers flexed around Kit’s wrists, his grip firm and unrelenting. "You don’t know what you need. Not yet."

With a sudden, violent motion, Ambrose leaned down, his breath hot against Kit’s ear. "But you will."

Kit’s heart raced, the sound of it pounding in his ears. Ambrose’s words sent a shiver down his spine, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell if it was fear or something darker, something he was too afraid to admit. His mind screamed at him to fight, to break free, but his body felt sluggish, the weight of Ambrose’s presence pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

Ambrose pulled back just enough to meet Kit’s gaze again, his eyes burning with a fierce, unrelenting intensity. "Fight me all you want," he said, his voice low and deliberate, each word a dark promise. "But I’m not letting you go."

Kit’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his mind spinning, the weight of Ambrose’s words settling over him like a leaden cloak. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, to push Ambrose away—but something in Ambrose’s gaze held him captive, something he wasn’t sure he could escape from, no matter how much he tried.

And deep down, despite the fear that churned in his gut, a small part of him wondered if Ambrose was right.

Continued here

[bakughosts]

SPARE VAMPIRE BKG THOUGHTS ??? SPARE VAMPIRE BKG THOUGHTS SIR MAAM ??

omg i have been traveling so it took me forever to respond to this because i wanted to be able to type out my Thoughts on the computer but WILLOW omg..... u spoil me by asking this. because i have so many and they constantly live in my brain ldfskjfslkdjf

i think what i love about bkg so much as a character is that he has desires but most of those desires take the form of achieving a goal. he has so many things he wants to be the best at and so many heights he wants to reach and yeah, part of this is because he's an ambitious person but part of it is because of his ego and his insecurity and the expectations placed upon him by the people around him/society at large. and i think bkg in any context has these things that he wants to achieve because his desire to reach his lofty goals is integral to his character.

and vampire bkg... think of all that time. what do you do when you've achieved everything you've ever wanted to achieve? what's left after that? for a century he has been achieving his goals, and now he has everything. money and power and even respect from locals in the villages near his castle (though that respect is tinged heavily with fear, because even if they don't know exactly what the handsome bachelor that lives inside the creepy but beautiful castle on the horizon is, they know he's something other... and not to mention he looks exactly like his father, and exactly like his father's father, and isn't it strange that none of us have ever seen their wives, have never seen these men at any point in their lives outside of their late twenties/early thirties?)

i don't think stagnation sits well with bkg. i don't think he's ever learned how to be still. despite having unlimited time, he had to accomplish everything as quick as possible, because he just wanted it all. he wanted to be the best so bad that it sung in his veins like adrenaline. and now, in the aftermath, he feels that same emptiness. adrenaline come and gone and only a hollow tiredness in its wake. now is when you feel the pain--nothing distracts you from it.

and one day... you, cat-curious, find your way to his castle. (this has gotten long lmao so im gonna put a read more)

maybe you're a traveler, or an adventurer, or simply someone in one of the nearby villages that doesn't believe the rumors. but no matter who you are and where you come from, you've heard the stories of his Otherness. though you don't know it yet, just like him, you thrive best with adrenaline thrumming through your veins--you thrive when you have something to want. and you want to know the secrets behind the Otherness that everyone else is so afraid of.

does that mean you're not afraid? god, no. of course you are. but you've reached his castle under an auspicious moon and you're sure this is a good omen.

here is why desire is such a dangerous thing: it is often insatiable. for a long, long time, bkg has survived from the blood of his livestock which he cares for, from game on his land. deer in spring, grouse in winter. to live like that for so long, and then to have something so much more tempting come directly to him, delivered to his doorstep--it's almost like a gift.

at the same time, i don't think bkg relishes the idea of drinking human blood, and certainly not killing a human. i think he could be a bloodthirsty vampire, but specifically when it comes to vengeance. he could hurt someone that wronged him, but not someone whose only crime is their curiosity.

you offer to work for him. to clean his castle, to tend his grounds, to care for his cattle. you know how to cook and how to bake (though you're unaware that this means little to him), and you have more fortitude than your appearance belies--his long-fallow farmland would thrive under your hands if he gave you the opportunity to work with it.

if it was years ago and he was still the same man, he might have said no. but it's hard to care when you feel empty. fine, he says. but don't expect fancy lodging or riches beyond measure.

you work, you investigate, you sleep. it's a cycle. and bkg watches you the whole time, though you're none the wiser. he's smart. he knows what you're doing. but you've broken up the monotony for him.

there's no food in his pantries, and you have to find him to ask for coin to go into town and buy groceries. he doesn't provide you the coin directly--a smart move, perhaps--but later that day, what you've requested has been stocked in the pantry shelves. and that's how you mainly interact with him for a while--weeks, maybe. you wake at dawn and clear the land and feed the cows and pigs and begin the monstrous task of cleaning a castle that has been left to rot and you go to the room you've chosen when the sun is long set, settle into your moth-eaten bed, and sleep harder than you've ever done in your life. if you need tools, feed for the cattle, groceries, supplies to clean, you relay this to him, often finding him in his study reading or in the greenhouse, pruning exotic plants. he never gives you more than nods and grunted words of acquiescence, but despite his temperament, he always provides what you ask for.

he's surprised by your tenacity. by your boldness, to ask for so much, even if it's not for your direct benefit. when you cook dinner each night, you make a serving for him as well. he can admit, begrudgingly, though you are in his space and disrupting his quiet, that he admires the way you chop vegetables so uniformly, that you're so careful with the way you measure out the spices he has filled his cabinets with for you.

and above all, for the first time in a long time, he feels something like desire.

he's never been intrigued by other people--he has friends, other vampires he has known for decades (kirishima and mina), but their friendship was foisted upon him until he gave in. he doesn't think he's intrigued by you. but your blood--

it has been a very long time since he has been tempted by something so sweet.

(i think there has to be so much context for this situation because i truly believe that the longer bkg is alone, the harder it is for him to let someone in. after a century of shutting himself away, it would be almost impossible for him to open himself back up in any significant way. it's the situation that allows for this desire to grow. the lack of anything else to hold his attention, the feeling of achieving everything you've ever wanted to achieve and having nothing left to strive for, the unobtrusive yet spellbinding nature of your presence. he remembers what it was like to want something. this, at first, is what draws him to you. nothing more.)

vampires are always hungry. even when sated, they know that hunger is going to return. there's nothing to stop it. it's the nature of their existence. so yes, at first, it's his hunger that draws him to you, though he wouldn't ever do anything about it.

he talks to you more. finds out things about you. your father was a drunkard and you never smile with teeth. you've worked on farms since late childhood and your right pinkie is crooked from a bad break. you read romance novels late at night and deny that you've been in his library when he asks you about it.

and after dinners spent together where he doesn't eat, after early evenings when he joins you outside to feed the cows, he tells himself this pull he feels is because of that hunger. because of that desire--not for you, but for the lifeblood that nearly intoxicates him just by scent if he gets too close to you.

(though you are aware of his Otherness, he is disarming to you. it's something about the earnestness in everything he does, despite his gruff exterior. he seems rusty at conversation, but his efforts are genuine. he doesn't eat your food, but he picks at it so as to not make you feel bad. you find this more endearing than you care to say aloud.)

and then kirishima and mina visit, and they meet you, his new human employee that lives in his castle and reads his books and touches his shoulder gently when he steadies a ladder for them so they can rehang one of the long-covered paintings in the drawing room, as if he has ever let anyone touch him, as if he has ever let anyone close enough to try--

and it's kirishima that finally asks what's going on, and when bkg says nothing, obviously, he asks again because he knows his best friend better than anyone else in the world--now, perhaps, better than anyone except you--and the truth is more simple than expected.

for so long, bkg had only ever experienced desire as hunger. hunger for blood, hunger for power, hunger for everything greater in the world. he was hungry to be the best. whatever that meant. because becoming the best meant that no one could question him. no one could doubt that he was powerful and all the things that came along with it. no one but himself. surely, he had thought, once he got to the top he would stop having those doubts because he would, unassailably, be the best.

just like hunger, doubt is something that can never be truly sated.

and for a long time he sat with that.

but then, to his own surprise, he was shown that desire can be something other than hunger. something softer, a smile with less teeth. desire can be vegetables chopped precisely, or dirt from the fields caked under fingernails, or a badly-healed little finger. desire can be a gentle hand on his shoulder, an act of trust: i know you'll be there to steady me.

he never knew he could want something without being hungry. never knew he could have his teeth to someone's throat without drawing blood. but now it's all he wants to do.

[filmtv2022]

To The Bitter End:

The Meeting of a Lifetime (Extra Scene)

Series Masterlist (It is 18+ as a whole... even though this part isn't)

Synopsis: This scene occurs right before Doc and Y/N share a quiet moment on the porch after meeting for the first time. Doc, Wyatt, and Y/N share drink and laughter together, and for the first time in a long time, John and Y/N feel alive.

Warnings: Language + drinking + smoking + spoilers? (It connects right into the rest of the story, but I think anyone could probably read this and be okay)

A/N: Well, it's been nearly two years since I posted To The Bitter End, and I haven't stopped thinking about it. I went back and read it again, and I have to say, I'm so unbelievably proud of that story. With that being said, recently a few ideas for extra scenes popped into my head for this story, and I thought... why not write them for others to enjoy (hopefully). As always, I apologize for any errors! Also, I'll put the stupid page break in once Tumblr gets it shit together! :)

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Passing the bottle of whiskey across the table to Wyatt you could feel the impending lull in conversation. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue or perhaps it was the mesmerizing smirk that played across your guest’s face, but you just couldn’t help yourself, “So, John, you said you’re a doctor. Of what exactly?” 

Wyatt tucked in his drink, falling silent as his focus darted between you and John. Not yet worried, but also unwilling to relax. He’d seen you take a conversation a step to far one too many times to be comfortable. 

“Dentistry,” John sipped at his drink, hearing your murmured hum of incredulity he continued on, “I sense skepticism. Care to enlighten me as to why?” 

“How perceptive,” Clearing your throat, you tossed back the rest of your whiskey, “It's just that you don’t strike me as a man who’s willing to settle down. Which I assume would be necessary to have a thriving practice. I truly have a hard time picturing you like that… a white coat covering your fine suit and tie, no gun in your holster, and only patient after patient to occupy your mind. It doesn’t add up. You’re an intellectual, I’ll give ya that. A businessman, sure. But one to call any place home longer than absolutely necessary… never. You, John Holliday, are a wanderer. I can see it in your eyes."

Doc remained quiet as you reached for the bottle, and poured yourself another. There was something in his gaze as it remained fixed to yours. A dark haze belied his base nature, but for John, it was the distinct feeling of you peeling back the layers of his cultured facade as easily as breathing that terrified and intrigued him the most. Trapped in your aura, he finished his own drink, letting the glass thud on the thick wooden table before inhaling deeply from his cigar, “And you darlin’… are as dangerous as they come.” 

“Perhaps,” you chewed the inside of your lip, tugging your features into a sly smile, “And yet, what does man, such as yourself, have to fear of little ol’ me?” 

“Everything,” John’s tone was serious and steady, and yet nothing in his response could hide the way you drew him in. 

You clung to his every move, tracking the minute changes in his countenance. The pull of his lips, the bob of his throat… the hitch of his lungs. It felt as though there were no secrets between you at this moment, and it thrilled you.

“Smart answer, Mr. Holliday,” the uncomfortable grit of Wyatt’s cough broke the trance, “Now where were we? Ah, that's right we were discussing my brother's propensity to find himself embroiled in less than lawful activities from which he cannot extricate himself without help despite being a legendary lawman. That's precisely what we were talking about, care to elaborate Wyatt?”

“You're a downright menace, you know that?” Wyatt's huffed chuckle assured you that no offense had actually been taken.

“Yes, I’m well aware. And who do we have to blame for that?” you brought your glass up and took a deep swig of the amber liquid, “Because truthfully, I’m not sure what you expect of me after bein’ cooped up in this hell hole of a tinder box all day while you go off galavanting as some goddamn hero of the wild west. But again, I am glad you aren’t dead. I don’t know what the hell I’d do without ya. Quite honestly, I’m afraid I’d be joining you six feet under when Virg and Morgan got a hold of me ‘cause somehow I’d be blamed for your death.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N you can't say shit like that.”

“I can… and I will,” smirking at Wyatt you couldn’t help, but swell with pride at the sound of John’s laughter. Joining in the levity, your tone was light and airy as you spoke, “Now if you don’t mind. I’m going to get some air.” 

Despite opening the open windows, the room had grown stuffy with heat from the fire & smoke from the men’s cigars.

Needing a small break for fresh air you excused yourself to the front porch. Wyatt took advantage of the moment to go seek out yet another bottle of whiskey as you all had worked your way through the first. 

The air had cooled substantially from this afternoon and sent goosebumps running over your skin. But you didn’t care, the clean, crisp scent of the air was exactly what you needed to clear your head. There on the porch, staring out into the vast nothingness ahead of you, the palpable tension you felt in your body began to dim. Losing a loved one was something that scared you through and through, and realizing how close you’d come to that today put your nerves on high. The creak of the door opening had you turning your head back to see who had joined you. You were pleasantly surprised to see John making his way towards you. Laying your palms on the wooden railing in front of you, you closed your eyes & and let your head fall back a little as you inhaled deeply. The scent of the night air mixed with another, one that over time you’d realize was distinctly John. It was a perfect mix of whiskey, smoke & sweat. It filled your lungs sweetly bringing with it a feeling of peace. 

You could feel him stop behind you, only a few inches separated the two of you. The pair of you stood there for a moment in silence. Your eyes were still closed allowing your body to relax. John on the other hand was fixated on you. His eyes mapped your face, trying to commit every beautiful feature to memory. His gaze landed finally on your lips, and the longer John stared the more difficult it became for him to refrain from leaning down to kiss you. A small gust of wind blew over the porch causing you to shiver slightly. Without thinking John removed his jacket & placed it over your shoulders before rubbing his hands along your upper arms in an attempt to warm you. Sighing with contentment, you leaned your body back until you met his frame. The skirt of your light yellow dress blew in the wind wrapping itself around John.

Opening your eyes you turned your head to look up at John.

“Thank you. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“Anything for you darlin’ ” 

It was here on this night that the invisible string that would tie you two together had started to form.