#but it was a good attempt and they could see the bloodlust in his eyes so.

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎ𝓜𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓾𝓶꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: murder, descriptions of blood pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary:you are famed as a maneater, a monster. when Billy meets you he finds out the truth author's note: hii!! this was originally going to be for flufftober but I decided to publish it now! consider it a little taste of what's coming!! Mwah Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The way you held his name between your lips was bloodlust.

Billy was unsure of the state of his soul, but if he ever found out exactly how filthy it was, he'd strain to unbind it from yours, rip and the seam until the frayed threads of love were waving at him from your side. You didn't deserve to have the burden of loving a man so sinful.

Your unbridled, uncontrollable thirst for blood did little to sway him from you. If anything it only heightened his awe until it was level with the sun. Despite your body's immortal need for what ran through human veins, you were achingly sweet, so darling and curious about the world around you. The wonder of your being captivated him wholly.

As the door creaked open, Billy looked up from where he'd been cleaning his gun, the heat of the fire warming the barrel. Sheathing it back into its place in his discarded belt, he turned as your soft footsteps punctured the previously silent atmosphere.

You looked tired, exhausted, even. In the dim glow casting shadows across your body, he could see the dirt on your dress, on your feet. Many a time, he'd begged you to wear shoes to protect you from the forest elements, but you insisted you didn't need them.

Getting to his feet, Billy met you halfway, drawing you into his arms immediately. "Hi baby...was it a good hunt? You okay?" He thumbed away some of the blood on your chin and you winced.

"Mhm. It was fine," you murmured, voice as delicate as a butterfly's wing. His brow creased in concern. Despite the fact that you'd just eaten, you still seemed weak, weaker than you should be.

He brushed a strand away from your cheek, cupping your face. "Honey, what'd you end up eatin'?"

Your eyes fell to the ground, a tinge of shame in them. "A...a deer."

Billy sighed, his hand sliding to the crown of your head and pressing you into his shoulder. "Baby..."

"I know, I know," you whispered, immune to his concerns. Though animal blood would do the trick in a pinch, you were only supposed to use it in just that. He'd told you a thousand times, every time you went out to hunt that it wasn't healthy, that you needed something better. You were practically skin and bones in his arms at this point, not having fed on human blood for nearly two months. He was worried about you withering away, like a dried leaf in autumn.

Clenching his jaw, he rubbed his hand up and down your back, a fruitless attempt to warm you. Your skin remained cold as snow no matter what he did. Despite that, you adored the warmth, soaking up the sun whenever you got the chance, sitting by the fireplace wrapped in both blankets and his arms most evenings. He led you there now, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt after you were both sat.

He pulled you between his legs, bracing you against his chest with both arms. Sliding one closer over your collarbone, he watched as his scent overwhelmed you just like he wanted it to.

For a moment you were still, leaning back and closing your eyes. The centers of them were enhanced due to your lack of blood, he knew, shiny like a lake at midnight. Your hands came up to hold his bare forearms as your back curved to fit the contours of his chest, the warmth emanating from the fireplace practically melting you into his arms.

Waiting a moment before he asked, Billy nuzzled his cheek into your hair, nosing a kiss there. "Could you take some of mine?"

Stiffening, you shifted to face him, and he could see a no forming on your tongue. "I-"

Billy's gaze cut you off, and he caressed your cheek. "Darlin'...you need it. More than I do."

"Billy," you began helplessly, starting to shake your head. "I don't...I can't do that..."

He busied himself, shifting you as you mumbled reasons why you didn't want to take his blood. Pulling you to sit up straighter against his chest, he secured you to him, holding up one arm close to your mouth, pearly fangs hidden by a pretty mouth. In soft words, you called yourself a burden. He disagreed.

"C'mon," he coaxed, rubbing your side with his free hand. "Ain't gonna hurt me, sweet girl. Just have some."

You slackened, turning away from his arm and hiding your face in his chest. "Not from there."

His shoulders slumped. "Sweetheart. Please-"

"-too sensitive there," you finished, looking up into his eyes. His face softened, and you nodded, letting your hand fall to his side, just above his hip. "Here."

Billy pursed his lips, nodding. He let go of you, letting you lean against him as he unbuttoned his shirt, trying to be quick about it. You helped him slide it over his shoulders, and he tossed it aside, away from the fire.

Positioning you between his legs, Billy helped you lie on your stomach, unhooking his pants to push them down just slightly. You leaned down, and he braced you under your arm and across your back, holding you in place as you settled your chin on his thigh.

Soft as morning's first breath, you kissed his hip, shifting your head slightly to the side before leaning in and letting your teeth pierce his skin. He stifled a grunt, instead choosing to stroke your hair with his free hand, eyes glued to you as you fed from him.

What struck him was how careful you were being, as if when you removed your teeth you'd find cracks in his skin like porcelain. He couldn't help the tiniest smile- in the few seconds since you'd bitten down, he could practically feel your strength coming back.

"There you go," he mumbled, thumbing through your hair. "That's it. Atta girl. Get it in, get what you need."

His hand stayed on your head the entire time, thumb stroking you there. Once or twice, you tried to pull away, but he shook his head, nudging you back to the spot. "You ain't had enough. Go on."

Billy could have sat there an eternity, until his body was drained dry, nothing but bones and organs left in his body. He'd look up at you with one final touch and die happy knowing you were full. He wasn't a man who had much in this life, but all that he possessed was yours. His spirit, his life, his soul. He wrapped it all up and presented it to you proudly, a gift that was still too little.

You lifted your head after what he deemed a satisfactory amount of time, licking the crimson from your lips and bracing a hand over the wound. He smiled, smoothing your hair back. "Feel better?"

Drawing in a little gasp, your lower lip trembled, and his face fell. "Oh, honey...baby, sweetheart, c'mere. C'mere, it's okay. Whatsa matter, my love?" Billy drew you up into his arms, legs on either side of his thighs. He held you close to him, burying his face in your hair and moving his body back and forth, trying to rock you into being soothed. "'re you still not feeling well, sweet girl? Belly hurtin'?"

"I took your blood," you choked, voice hitching every other syllable. "I took it-"

His heart dropped. "I wanted you to. You needed it, pretty, needed it bad." Billy splayed his hand over your back, rubbing up and down. "Shh, don't cry. It's okay."

You sniffled, body relaxing under his touch. Where your breaths had once been crisp, they were now soft. As he murmured sweet nothings into your head, holding you tight to the shelter of his chest, you began to calm and he breathed a sigh of relief. His girl wasn't going to feel bad for keeping herself alive, not on his watch.

"It's okay?" you breathed, lifting teary eyes to look into his. He was relieved to see they were back to normal, his blood having placated the insatiable thirst inside you. That alone made whatever else would come worth it.

He nodded, tracing a heart into your cheek. "'s okay. More 'n okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut, nodding and hiding your face in his stomach. Billy breathed gently, letting you lie there as long as you wanted. He was relieved that you found comfort in him, that he was the one you trusted.

He'd fight tooth and nail to keep you safe, kill a thousand men for you to drink their blood. Day and night, fighting wind on horseback, Billy breathed for you. The sight of you drinking his blood was more than enough motivation to keep himself alive, and he thrived on it. On your love, the love that quenched his need the same way blood did yours.

Now as he held you, your stomach full, the color returning to your face, he revisited every vow he had made for you, as solemn as the grave, as real as if you'd walked down the aisle toward him to stand at the altar. If it killed him, he'd love you, as raw and real as anything he'd ever done.

Until his blood ran dry, until his heart was staunched by the mark of your fangs.

[starlooove]

Dukes first league crush was Cyborg and he almost strangled Dick for inviting him to the manor on his birthday 💔

(NOT A SHIP pls don’t be gross)

[the-hipster-nugget]

I think we need to talk about Scott’s third life death scene more often, specifically about the scene directly afterward with Martyn and Ren.

It’s so fucked up that Martyn chases after Scott, not hurting or actually touching him but follows him so his king can get a chance to kill him, but Martyn doesn’t touch Scott. Instead he yells after him these half baked apologies and explanations, trying to tell him “I didn’t want Jimmy to die!” That is actually insane.

As Martyn is chasing that boy he connected with at the start, the one he entered the nether with; they went through this worlds actual hell together. Now Martyn is tasked to take after Scott to not let him escape, someone he used to be close to, he chases with death in mind because his king commands it.

And Scott finally stops to face martyn, as the pathetic hand tries to tell him “we didn’t mean to kill your husband” is SO fucked up. Out of everything Martyn said, before having to watch his king murder him, he tells Scott that it was never his intention to harm Jimmy.

Upon Scott’s death, Martyn does not cheer or rejoice, he just lets out this pathetic noise of defeat after Ren murdered Scott for good. Martyn stands there feeling null and empty, while his king goes into hysterics.

Ren also, upon killing Scott, is immediately rushed with guilt and horror at himself. Starts sobbing, “how many more do I have to kill to this violence comes to an end?”

“It’s dripping into my eyes… I can’t see, I’ve been blinded by violence my hand.”

Ren sacrificed himself using Martyns hand, allowed his head to be chopped off so that he could become a red name- but even after all that, he cannot kill without guilt. Other red names like Skizz and Joel get this bloodlust and hunt like a predator. While Ren, the wolf king, kills and then he cries. He sobs and begs for Martyn to hold him. He’s a red name supposed to be thirsting for blood but it isn’t giving him that rush it should. He had Martyn take his head, and all for what? What was this all for?

He’s a red name, and the king of a red kingdom, with a red shield. He brought red winter in his wake, but he stays awake at night shivering in fear about the death of others. In his heart, Ren is too good hearted to kill without remorse. Despite it being his job, and something he sought out to do on purpose; he feels horribly guilty.

The blood dripping into his eyes blinding him is insane symbolism. Being a red name gives him this urge to kill, and it blinds the players. But doesn’t give Ren a rush of ecstasy or excitement, it scares him. Ren feels so blood thirsty that he gets dizzy, and it makes him want to cry. It makes him scared of himself, and he breaks down as yet another person died at his hand.

He begs Martyn to hold him, and all he can think about is before he had to murder another person. He never wanted to become this red king, never wanted his crown to be stained in blood. He wanted to hold Martyns hand, and enchant with him. That’s all he wanted, was a life of peace with his dear friend. Martyn was his friend, not his hand.

Ren asked for this, he prayed for red winter, but now that it arrived, he is so so cold. Ren just wanted to feel the warmth of spring.

Neither of them wanted to kill Scott. Neither of them felt satisfied watching Scott lose his final life, but they murdered him together anyway. They killed him, and then they cried about it. They hold each other in the dead of winter.

“How many more people do we have to kill before all this violence comes to an end?”

The red king just wishes red winter would finally end. He’s tired of his bloody crown weighing down his head, his weak scarred neck struggles to hold. Martyn holds his king in attempt to comfort him, but all he thinks about is how eventually, they will have to die too. Maybe if they’re lucky, they’ll die together.

[fanficimagery]

Girl in the Painting

After taking a closer look at Xavier's paintings, Wednesday realizes he wasn't having dreams of her at all. But she does know the girl in the paintings and she's decided that this one good deed shouldn't kill her.

Words: 6.6K Author's Note: Wednesday AU. I'm well aware Xavier never had dreams of Wednesday; he just painted her because he'd seen her and "instantly fell in love". For this, however, I'm saying he's dreamt of her, possibly even before she showed up to Nevermore, and she realizes later on she was never actually the center of his dreams. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of past attempted sexual assault. It's brief.

As the students of Nevermore are packing up and readying themselves for their trips home, a group of girls are sitting around the charred fountain in the courtyard.

"So what are your plans for summer?" Bianca asks, fingers skimming the water. The dark skinned siren smiles when Enid blushes prettily, her gaze immediately darting to the ever stoic Wednesday. She's been wondering, as of late, if Enid's feelings towards Wednesday were leaning towards romantic rather than platonic.

"Going to Wednesday's home," Enid finally says. "Gonna spend a couple of weeks with the Addams' family."

"Yeah? I didn't think our resident living dead girl was into slumber parties."

"It's going to be a blast," Wednesday deadpans. Yoko chuckles, sipping on whatever concoction she's mixed up that satiates her bloodlust. "You two are more than welcome. Apparently the more, the merrier."

"Sorry," Yoko muses, "but the coven's gonna travel all summer. I'm quite looking forward to it."

"Mmm. And as much as I'm loving the new attitude, I got some things to take care of before we come back to Nevermore," Bianca says, her silver eyes glowing just the faintest. She really couldn't wait until she finished this favor for her mother and her new creep of a husband. "Besides, I can't be seen painting the nails of the girl responsible for my break-up with Xavier so soon. I at least gotta make it seem like I've made you sweat."

Wednesday just blinks at Bianca's reasoning, but Enid frowns. "Wait, what? I thought you broke up because Xavier was being his emo artistic self?"

Yoko grins around the straw of her drink. "She wishes."

"I actually found a sketch of Wednesday in his journal before I even knew who Wednesday was," Bianca confesses. "Here. Look." She takes her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her pictures. "I snapped a pic to see what I could find out online, but shockingly nothing was solved until Wednesday showed up here."

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation."

"Yep. Sounds like you," Bianca says. "Look. See? He drew this before you even stepped foot behind Nevermore's gates."

Wednesday takes the phone and Enid leans closer to take a look. Both girls scrutinize the sketch, both equally baffled to see who everyone has assumed was Wednesday herself smiling. But just as Wednesday is about to hand the phone back, something catches her eye and she brings the phone closer to her face to scrutinize it.

"I can see why you thought this was me," Wednesday says, "but I assure you, it is not me who's apparently caught Xavier's fancy."

"No?" Bianca huffs. "Sure as hell looks like you."

Yoko nods. "Could have fooled me."

"I thought it was me as well, but this sketch proves me wrong. Look here." Wednesday zooms in on the picture, focusing on the right eyebrow. "You see that scar? I don't have it."

Bianca stares before rolling her eyes and reclaiming her phone. "So Xavier gives you a flaw and you immediately don't think it's you?"

"It is not a flaw. It's a sign of strength." Bianca, and the ever-smiling Enid and Yoko frown at the tone Wednesday has now taken on and the steely glint in her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"A couple of years ago, me and my siblings decided to walk into town after a tiring day at school. A group of older teenage boys cornered us down an alley, and they held me and Pugsley back while making us watch as they tore at the clothes on my sister's back. They mocked her tears and promised that whatever they did to her, no one would believe her since even our sheriff hated outcasts like us. They wanted to break her because we were different. But in a bout of bravery that I will forever be proud of her for, she took the small blade our uncle Fester gifted her and stabbed one of her attackers. In return, they hit her in the face with half a brick and fled with their friend."

"Shit." Bianca blinks in surprise. "Is your sister okay?"

"She's fine. They only left her with a scar and a fear of normies. She used to have the social personality that Enid possesses, but now she haunts the halls of our home rather than leaving it. I tried to get her to attend Nevermore, but even I failed in doing so. Xavier's sketch though, it shows her smiling. That tells me she will be okay."

"So… Xavier only thinks he's infatuated with you?" Yoko wonders.

"It appears so. But if I can manage to get him to my home, maybe he'll see for himself it wasn't me he was having dreams of."

Bianca huffs a laugh. "Sounds fun. Now I'm really glad I can't make it to your slumber party. The breakup is still too fresh to see him fawning over someone else. Maybe the time away will do me some good."

"This sounds like my kind of drama." Yoko sighs wistfully. "Too bad I'll have to miss it."

"Yes, well, Xavier did gift me this phone." Wednesday pulls out a sleek iPhone. "Perhaps if I had your number, I could text you updates. Or death threats."

"Done and done. Gimme." Yoko happily takes Wednesday's phone, typing her information into it. Then taking a selfie, she hands the phone to Bianca who does the same, but makes sure Wednesday understands that she doesn't want any updates.

"We're going to have so much fun!" Enid happily bounces in place, accepting Wednesday's phone to type in her own information. "I can't wait to meet your family."

At 001 Cemetery Lane, a gothic looking manor stands tall and proud behind a sentient gate.

With your fingers running through the dust along the wall, you quietly walk down the hallway as your sister's friend can be heard babbling on and on. Enid Sinclair had shown up only a couple of days ago, her bubbly personality breathing life into your usually dark home. You'd have kept your distance had you not learned she was from Nevermore, but upon learning she was a werewolf, you found yourself leaving your room while there was a guest in your home.

Halfway down the staircase, the doorbell ominously tolls and Lurch appears from the next room over to answer it. You freeze, wondering who would dare walk up to your house.

Lurch opens the door and your breathing ceases for a moment at the sight of a teenage boy standing there. He's around six feet tall, give or take a couple of inches, and he sheepishly runs a hand through his chin length hair.

"Hey, uh, is Wednesday home?" He's staring up at Lurch who's towering over him, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his coat which seem to be torn on one arm. Lurch turns and looks up at you, and you startle when the boy's gaze lands on you. His brow furrows before he smiles. "Hi. I, uh, I think your gate tried to eat me."

Your lips faintly twitch and your heart rate starts to slow. If he knows Wednesday and isn't freaking out too much about Gate, there's a good chance he's from Nevermore as well. "He's temperamental. You need to be quick to avoid his swing." Then without waiting for a response, you turn around and call out, "Wednesday! There's a boy at the door for you."

A small weight lands on your shoulder and you grin at the sight of Thing. He trembles excitedly, tapping and pointing and making gestures as you giggle at his enthusiasm.

"Oh, hey Thing! Long time no see." When you glance back at the door, the boy is now inside your home with the door shut behind him and Lurch nowhere to be found. Thing scrambles off your shoulder and rushes towards the boy, and it's not until the boy squats down to fist bump Thing that you catch yourself admiring how cute the boy is. Immediately you shut that thought down and wipe any form of amusement from your expression. Then when the boy glances back at you, he stands tall and smiles yet again. "I'm Xavier Thorpe," he then introduces himself.

"YN," you deadpan. You hear Wednesday's nearly silent footfalls behind you and nod at him before you take a step back up the staircase. "Enjoy your stay here. Don't touch Mother's plants. They bite."

As you turn around, you're unsurprised to find Wednesday looking right at you. Her eyebrow twitches, your eyes narrow, and you clasp your hands behind your back before marching back up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase, Enid is practically beaming at you. "He's cute. Right?"

"Ask my sister. He's her guest."

"What? They're not-"

But you pay her no mind and trace your steps back to your room.

At the bottom of the staircase, Xavier watches as Wednesday's sister disappears. "How long have you known?" He asks.

"That it was my sister you've been having dreams of and not me?" He gives her a deadpan stare and Wednesday nearly smiles. "Only since our last day at Nevermore. Bianca showed me the first picture you ever drew and the scar in her eyebrow tipped me off. You're welcome."

Enid skips down the stairs, sighing as she approaches her friends. "Well you're going to have your work cut out for you, Xavier. She thinks you're here for Wednesday."

"Technically, I am." He shrugs.

"And now you're here for her," Wednesday says. "Protect her heart. You so much as bruise it and I'll dissect yours."

Xavier blinks in shock and Enid giggles, skipping to his side and hooking her arm with his. "Let the wooing begin."

Over the past couple of days, you keep your distance from Wednesday's friends. You've heard them around the house, sure, but only managed to really be in the same room as them when you all had dinner as a family. You always sat between Wednesday and Pugsley, across from Enid and Xavier, but your eyes never strayed too far from your plate.

One morning, you have the urge to visit what used to be your favorite part of the manor.

The sunroom towards the back of the manor used to be your space- filled with vibrant flowers, plants, and vines and even a small fountain in the corner. But ever since the incident, you've tried to find solace in the one place you loved, only to have everything you touch wilt right before your very eyes. And now- now the sunroom is filled with black and gray and brown plants.

Finding what used to be a rose, your mother's favorite flower, you pick it up and gently cradle it in the palms of your hands. One of its petals crumbles beneath the pad of your thumb and it takes everything in you to not cry.

"I was wondering where you've been sneaking off to." The voice startles you and you turn to see Xavier standing under the archway of the entrance. His hair is pulled back into a small knot at the back of his head, a few strands left loose, and you quickly squash down the thought that he looks really cute like this. "Sorry," he then apologizes. "I thought you would have heard my footsteps."

"...no worries."

You turn back around, gently laying the dead flower back down. Exhaling softly, you then move towards the door leading outside, unsurprised when you hear footsteps following you. "So this place is… awesome."

You huff a laugh, stopping just inside the door and only peering outside towards the family cemetery. "Believe it or not, it wasn't always like this. I used to be able to breathe life into this room."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Now everything I touch seems to die."

"Oh I wouldn't say that."

"Really? Take a look around, Mr. Thorpe. I did this." Xavier takes a look around, frowning and trying to understand you. Exhaling softly again, you paste on a friendly grin and turn to face him. "If you're looking for my sister, she and Enid have Uncle Fester in the electric chair up in the attic."

He barks out a surprised laugh. "What?"

"He loves it." You shrug. Then as you're walking away, you say, "Fair warning; if Uncle Fester tells you to pull his finger, don't."

"Why? Because his farts are killer?"

"No. Because he'll electrocute you."

You leave Xavier chuckling in your wake, finding it a little easier to be in your sister's friends presence.

Then two days later, it's your turn to find Xavier in the sunroom. His hair is back in the little knot that you couldn't stop staring at, dressed in paint splattered clothes as he stands in front of an easel.

When he catches sight of you, he offers you a smile before he focuses on his canvas once more. You continue walking closer and when he doesn't say anything, you walk around to see what he was inspired to paint. Surprisingly, it's a black and white portrait of your sister sitting behind her cello mid-stroke.

"Oh wow," you breathe in awe. "Xavier, this is amazing."

"You think so?"

When you chance a glance at him and notice the faint pink surrounding his cheek bones, you smile genuinely at him. "Of course. You're really talented."

"Glad you think so." Xavier steps back, looking at his work as he stands side by side with you. "Wednesday, uh, she played the cello one night and it was amazing. No one thought her capable of it."

"Why? Because she's death incarnate?"

Xavier chuckles, bashfully averting his gaze. "Something like that." Then looking at the painting once more, he says, "Your mother saw one of my pieces at Nevermore and asked if I could recreate it so she could hang it here."

You nod in understanding, unable to tear your eyes away from the way Xavier has captured your sister. Then right before your eyes, the painting slowly comes to life- Wednesday's bangs blowing in the wind, one hand pushing and drawing the bow across the cello strings as the other holds down certain strings in a muted song.

You quietly gasp, eyes widening in surprise. You watch in awe before turning towards your companion, only to find him holding his hand out towards the painting with his eyes closed. "Oh." You utter in realization. "You're gifted and then you're literally gifted."

Xavier's eyes open and he nods, eyes sparkling. "I have the gift of animation."

"Marvelous."

You continue staring at the painting, finding the foundation of your walls quaking and feeling a bit more comfortable in the presence of the boy who has decided to share his power with you.

You're so used to sitting between your siblings at dinner that you're thrown for a loop when you find Enid in your usual place. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, but Enid and Pugsley merely smile while Wednesday arches an eyebrow at you.

Xavier fidgets nervously in his chair, smiling sheepishly at you. "Come on. I don't bite," he muses as he gestures to the empty seat.

Against your will, you blush.

"Pity," Wednesday drawls. "I think my sister would have quite liked that."

"Wednesday!" Your mortification makes Enid giggle. You nervously take your seat before your father takes your mother's hand, pressing kisses to the back of her hand and all the way up her arm where he then proceeds to mockingly bite her. "Oh my god. You're all so embarrassing."

"They're cute." Enid beams at your parents' affectionate behavior.

"Someone drown me," you mumble.

"Only after dinner," your mother says.

Xavier snorts and you briefly flash him a grin before fiddling with your utensils.

Lurch brings the food out, everyone having a pasta dish with the exception of Enid who'd been brought out a medium-rare steak. You quietly dig in, gaze darting from person to person as the conversation flows around you.

Eventually, when the dessert is brought out, Enid addresses the younger crowd.

"So the cinema is playing a werewolf movie and I really want to go see it and make fun of it. Is anyone else interested in going?"

"Sure." Xavier shrugs. "Sounds fun."

Wednesday sighs. "If I must."

"I have plans with Thing," Pugsley says, smiling apologetically at Enid.

All eyes turn towards you and you fight the urge to shrink in your seat. You gulp, but before you can come up with an excuse to not have to leave your house, your mother is urging you to go. "It sounds like fun, sweetheart. Surely you'd love to go with your sister and friends."

"I-"

It's been years, darling," your father says. "I think it's time to get back out there. You're not that naive little girl anymore, mija."

You let your mouth close, everyone ignoring Xavier's, "Am I missing something?"

Wednesday's giving you her usual deadpan stare whereas Enid is smiling and nodding, encouraging you to go. Both your parents are smiling, anticipating your answer, but what makes you cave is the fact that a part of you actually wants to go. You want to be somewhat of a normal teenager, being out and about with your sister, Enid, and a cute boy.

Reluctantly, your shoulders sag and you give a nod. "Fine. I'll make an attempt."

"I'll take it!" Enid blurts.

Wednesday looks pleased with your answer and you finish the rest of dinner without uttering another word.

Then the next evening, you're being picky about what outfit you should wear. You'd taken to wearing different shades of black and gray, but tonight you want to look good. All your dresses and skirts are out of the question, and eventually you settle on a pair of burgundy plaid leggings and a black sweater crop top. You fix your hair to your liking and then slip your feet into a pair of black combat boots before lacing them up tightly. Then deeming yourself ready, you shove your phone, cash, and ID into a miniature backpack that is adorned with skulls and crossbones.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you finally make your way downstairs.

Wednesday, Enid, and Xavier are waiting for you, and when Wednesday sees you… a smile slowly blossoms as she takes you in.

"What are you-" Enid turns around and her jaw drops. Then she beams and practically hops in place in her excitement. "You're wearing something other than black!"

Xavier turns, his gulp very obvious. "Wow." You think he must've wanted to keep that to himself because he blushes and nervously runs a hand through his loose hair. "You, uh, you look nice."

You arch an eyebrow at him, grinning. "Thanks."

Walking past them, you walk outside to where Lurch is waiting by the car to drive you into town. He hums when he sees you and you wrinkle your nose at him as he opens the back door for you. You climb in to sit on the bench seat directly behind the driver's seat, holding in your surprise when Wednesday and Enid shove Xavier in right behind you. He practically falls into his seat, righting himself as smoothly as he can, and Wednesday and Enid take their seats across from you.

Enid and Xavier keep the conversation flowing with you and Wednesday occasionally humming in response.

After several long minutes of driving, Wednesday is instructing Lurch where to drop you all off. It's a couple blocks away from the cinema, but your sister apparently wants to go for a brief walk. Though the second your feet are on the pavement and Lurch drives away, you freeze.

"Hey. You okay?" Xavier asks.

Your hands are gripping the straps to your backpack and you gulp, subconsciously stepping closer to him when he gently touches your elbow. "Y-Yeah."

"Come on. Wednesday will leave us behind if we linger."

"Mhm."

Gently pulling on your arm, you stiffly follow Xavier. Your eyes are peeled for anyone staring, hands tightening on the straps of your bag. The only time you feel yourself exhaling with relief is when Xavier puts himself between you and the street, letting you take the part of the sidewalk that's closest to the buildings.

Enid and Wednesday are walking in front of you, elbows linked, and occasionally Enid giggles over her shoulder when she glances back at you. But you're too paranoid to pay her any mind and try to focus on the silent strength that Xavier is unknowingly offering up.

At the cinema, Enid asks for four tickets to the latest werewolf thriller, and she happily claps when Xavier pays for everyone. At the snack counter it takes everything in you to not bolt or hide out in the bathroom, but you shakily manage to retrieve your own cash to pay for some nachos and a drink.

So far no one's stared or shouted and you find yourself relaxing, especially when you take a seat in the movie room and everyone is paying attention to their people that they showed up with.

Sitting between Xavier and Wednesday, you find yourself breathing a little easier.

Enid has several hot dogs balancing on her lap, Wednesday is chewing on black licorice, and you and Xavier had the same idea to get nachos. He, however, also nabbed several boxes of candy and a bucket of popcorn.

"I hope you choke on a kernel," Wednesday says as she watches him stuff handful after handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You giggle, licking the cheesy goodness from your fingertips and sipping on your drink.

And halfway through the movie, you hear Xavier actually choke. A laugh slips out of your sister before her lips are pressed closed once more, and you offer Xavier your drink. Sharing a straw doesn't bother you, so you nod in reassurance as he stares at it.

For the rest of the movie, you and Xavier share your drink. And when you run out, he quickly leaves the darkness of the room to get you a refill.

After the movie, you're standing outside in front of the cinema as Enid talks about the horrible cosmetics they used to portray a werewolf. Wednesday is tapping away on her phone before she puts it away, cutting Enid off mid rant and giving her a nod. She squeals and happily claps her hand, and you stare at them in confusion.

"There's a fair going on," Wednesday says. "Enid wants to go."

You slowly tense up. "Oh."

The bubbly werewolf's smile falls. "But if that's too much for you, we don't-"

"No. It's fine," you assure her. Your hands are back to gripping the straps of your backpack. "We can- we can go."

Enid is back to happily clapping, but Wednesday curiously studies your demeanor. And when she sees you're not about to have a meltdown, she turns and follows after her friend.

"We can always hang out front of the fair if you really don't want to go in," Xavier says. You startle, somehow having forgotten he was there. "I don't mind waiting with you."

"It's okay. Really." Your smile is shaky as you look up at him. "Just, uh, maybe don't leave me alone in there?"

"Stick by your side. Got it." Xavier grins as he offers you his elbow and you're quick to latch on. "I'll even win you the ugliest prize we can find if you're up for it."

You chuckle and let him lead the way, occasionally glancing up at him. "Christ, I forget how tall you are sometimes."

"I'm not tall, you're just really small."

"Ha. Ha."

When you eventually make it to the fair, Xavier hesitates with you as you warily glance around. Then taking a deep breath, you press on and practically make yourself flush against his side. You walk around for a bit, smiling when you see Wednesday and Enid pass you by, Enid already holding tightly to a stuffed unicorn.

As you're walking around, your eyes are drawn back to a green and black dragon that's about half your size. Xavier must notice because he decides to try his hand at basketball in order to win the prize and it takes him four tries to win it.

You don't know what it is about Xavier that makes your guard start to drop, but you find yourself smiling and laughing a bit more easier. He tries winning a panda next, but in between his dart throwing, he notices as you keep your back to the game and are staring from side to side.

You're too distracted to notice he's watching you, your arms wrapped around your dragon as you nervously chew on the bottom corner of your lip. He sighs a little dejectedly, turning around so he can see where you're staring off to. "So who's the lucky guy… or girl?"

"Excuse me?" You look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You keep glancing around." He faintly grins. "Are you waiting for someone?"

You study his features, eyes subtly widening when you notice something. Was that- was that jealousy clouding his expression? "Wednesday didn't tell you," you then mumble in awe. You for sure thought he knew why you never left your home. After all, Enid did.

"Tell me what?"

You gulp, glancing at the carnie listening in to your conversation. "Let's go for a walk. I'll fill you in." Shakily exhaling, you gesture for Xavier to follow. Side by side, he walks with you with his hands tucked away in the pockets of his coat. "A few years ago, Wednesday, Pugsley, and I were attacked by a group of normies. It… wasn't a pleasant experience for me and it's actually how I got this," you say while gesturing to the scar on your eyebrow. "They were ripping- uh, they were ripping off my clothes, so I stabbed one of them." Your breath hitches and when you chance a glance up at Xavier, you find that his jaw is clenched. "I stopped them from doing that to me, but they managed to hit me with a brick before they ran away."

You make it a few more steps before you're being tugged to a stop and then Xavier is walking to stand in front of you. Gently cupping one side of your face, you manage to hold back a flinch when his thumb brushes over your scar. "You're safe with me. You know that right?"

"I'm starting to realize that."

"That was a shit thing those normies did and I'll be damned if they do anything on my watch." When you meet his gaze, he offers you a small smile. "Now let's go win Wednesday the brightest stuffed animal we can find and make her take a picture with it."

Slowly smiling, you chuckle. "Okay."

And by the end of the night, you and Xavier have won the most terribly bright and fluffy stuffed animals, shoved them near Wednesday's face, and had Enid hurriedly snap a picture of your glaring sister.

You're smiling and skipping alongside Enid towards a waiting Lurch, laughing with all the stuffed animals crammed between your arms and bodies before crawling into the idling car.

For once, in a very long time, you've had fun and didn't worry about any normies looking in your direction.

Xavier's just got off the phone with his father when a familiar song being played on the cello draws him towards Wednesday's room. The door is open, the room is empty, but there's another door that leads out to a balcony.

Following the music, he's not surprised to find Wednesday playing Paint It Black while Thing turns the sheet music for her. Gomez, Morticia, Pugsley, and Enid are also on the balcony, staring at something down below.

"What's going on?" He asks, stepping closer to the railing.

Enid glances at him, beaming. "Take a look for yourself."

Xavier glances down, gaze falling to the gazebo that's been strung up with white fairy lights. But what draws his attention is the twirling figure inside the gazebo, adorned in a black leotard and a multicolored tutu. His jaw subtly drops. "She dances?"

"She dances." He looks over at Morticia Addams, tears glistening in her eyes. "It's been years since she's put on her slippers though."

"This week and a half with you and Enid have brought our daughter back," Gomez says. "Thank you."

Paint It Black fades into Nothing Else Matters and a majority of the white lights darken into purple. Xavier is entranced by the way you twirl on the tips of your toes, the stretch of your neck whenever your head is thrown back, and the long stretch of your leg when you twirl on the tips of your toes only on one foot.

As the music fades out, Enid breaks out into applause.

Your head snaps up at the sound of clapping, chest heaving, and your face burns when you see everyone watching you. Your little brother whistles as he claps too, but it's your parents' beaming and tearful expressions that keeps you from fleeing. Well them and Xavier who looks more than a little awed.

So before you do take your leave, you give them a little bow and then rush back inside the house.

Sitting on the floor in the middle of the sunroom, you're staring at the lockscreen on your phone. You never saw when the picture was taken, but apparently Enid had been keeping tabs on you and Xavier when you were at the fair, and now it was one of your favorite pictures.

In the picture, you and Xavier are walking side by side, one of your arms wrapped around your stuffed dragon with the other arm looped through his. You're looking up at him and he down at you, both of you smiling. But what made you grin at the picture the most was the height difference between you and Xavier. Enid was spot on when she described you two as tall and smol.

Hearing approaching footsteps, you block out your screen and climb to your feet… and speak of the devil.

Xavier walks in, smiling. "Knew I'd find you here."

"Did you now?" Walking over to a bench seat, you gesture to the space beside you. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to see if you were up to going into town. The cinema is showing this new cheesy horror flick and I thought you might be interested in going before my time here is up."

"Oh. Uh, yeah." Your heart starts to hammer in your rib cage. Could this be a- "Just us or are Enid and Wednesday waiting for us out front?"

"Just us?" His answer is more of a question, his cheeks tinting pink the longer you stare.

Eventually you grace him with a bashful smile. "Sure. I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "Are- are we leaving now?"

"Yeah. We can, uh, window shop and all that fun stuff before the movie."

Warmth surges through you, at the thought that Xavier wants to spend time with just you. You're not sure if this is actually a date, but you're looking forward to one on one time without a family member lurking around the corner. "Alright. Let me just go get a bag." As you stand up to leave the room, a vine falls over the entrance. But not just any vine- a vibrant green vine that hadn't been there moments before.

"Huh." Xavier huffs. "That's the first colorful plant life I've seen in this room."

Your eyes widen and you glance all around the room, taking notice how the dead plant life isn't looking quite so dull anymore. "No way," you breathe in awe. Turning towards where the fountain sits, you rush over and pick up one of the dead water lilies. Cradling it in the palms of your hand, you notice a couple of changes in the once dead flower. Feeling Xavier walk up beside you, you ask, "Remember how I said I used to be able to breathe life into this place?"

"Yeah."

"Watch." Bringing the water lily closer to your face, you let your eyes fall shut as you inhale deeply. Then slightly pursing your lips, you blow out slowly and you can feel the water lily coming back to life right there in the palm of your hands.

"Wow." Your eyes open upon Xavier's exclamation. "And here I was thinking you had a green thumb or something. Not that you actually breathe life into them."

Huffing a laugh, you blink your tears away and gently lay the water lily back in the fountain. "I haven't been able to do this for years. I guess I had a mental block and then you- you and Enid show up and I feel more at peace than I have in a while." You step up on the side of the fountain then, turning towards Xavier as you smile. "Thank you." Then leaning in, you press a kiss to his cheek.

He suddenly turns bashful, angling his face downward so his hair shields his blushing cheeks. "I never realized how small you were."

"Shut up. You're just freakishly tall."

As Xavier glances at you through his curtain of hair, you wrinkle your nose at him and then hop off the fountain siding less you do something to ruin the moment.

Like kiss him on the lips rather than the cheek.

Spending the day with Xavier alone goes so much better than you had expected, so much so that you find yourself incredibly sad the day he is set to leave. It was clear to your entire family that something had shifted between the two of you when you'd come back home, hand in hand with a never-ending blush staining both your cheeks.

Enid was more than ecstatic and Wednesday took to sharpening her short swords whenever possible.

You're in the sunroom, clipping roses with your mother when Xavier walks in. In hand, he has a covered canvas.

"I have something for you," he tells you. "But I'm sure your mom is going to take ownership of it after she sees what it is."

You smirk at him, setting down your clippers and walking over to him. Your mother isn't far behind. "Did you paint me something?"

"I did." His hands dig into his pockets after his hands are free when you take the gift from him. You stare at the covered canvas, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. "You inspired me the other night and I just had to capture the moment."

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing though you continue to smile, and pull the cover off your painting. Your mother's delighted gasp is what makes you glance down and you're struck speechless.

The painting… is of you.

Specifically you dancing in the gazebo with the only color in the painting being that of your tutu.

"Xavier, this is…" You trail off, staring in awe. A moment passes and he brings the painting to life. Your mother starts to clap, even more delighted now as the miniature version of you dances away. "This is amazing. Thank you."

"I must show your father. This is just splendid." Your mother takes the painting, but not before gently grazing her nails along Xavier's jaw and smiling at him. "Thank you, young Mr. Thorpe."

"Y-You're welcome, Mrs. Addams."

Your mother sighs wistfully before glancing at the painting and then leaves the two of you alone. As soon as she's out of your sight, your hands are reaching for the lapels of Xavier's coat, his hands are clinging to your waist, and he's leaning down to meet you in a kiss.

You giggle when his hair falls forward to tickle your face and it makes Xavier smile.

"We really should have started this sooner," he says as he hesitantly straightens himself out. "I'm gonna miss you while I'm at Nevermore."

"What if… what if you didn't have to miss me?" You ask, your hands smoothing down the wrinkles you'd made on his coat.

"What?"

"What if I came to Nevermore?" He's quiet a little too long for your liking and you start to feel like maybe you read too much into whatever you two were. "Or not. I just thought-"

"Are you kidding me?" You barely manage to hold back a wince and Xavier's sudden laugh has you wanting to crawl into a hole. But when you chance a glance up at him, his expression is not what you were expecting. He's actually excited! "You're going to Nevermore?!"

You shrug, grinning sheepishly. "Mom's been talking to Principal Weems. I have a meeting with her in a couple of days to see whether or not I'll be a good fit."

"Hell yes." His smile is boyish and you can't help but giggle. "You'll make it in. I know it."

"I hope so. I love my parents, but they're not the greatest of teachers."

"You're gonna love it. I can introduce you to my friends and show you all the cool hang out spots. We can-"

"Xavier. Xavier!" You laugh, trying to talk over his excitement. "We don't even know if I'll get in."

"I'm telling you, you will. And if Principal Weems denies you, I'm pretty sure Wednesday will bug her until she grants you a place at the school."

"Oh. I forgot what going to school with a sibling was like." This time, you do wince. "People are going to dread another Addams roaming the halls, aren't they?"

"Some will." He grins. "But once they get to know you, they'll grow to like you."

You sigh but end up shaking your head in amusement. "If I do get in, how shocked do you think everyone will be if Wednesday's sister shows up dressed like Enid?"

"You'll confuse the hell out of everyone. Do it."

"I will. Now come on. We got away with one kiss. I have a feeling if another happens, a dagger will whiz by out of thin air."

"Xavier." The boy in question flinches as your sister pops up out of nowhere. "Your ride's here. Stop sucking my sister's face and go home. You'll see her soon enough."

He rolls his eyes, even as you laugh in the face of your sister's glare. "Always a pleasant encounter, Wednesday."

"Not really."

He huffs and glances back down at you, his gaze falling to your lips. But before he can get carried away, Wednesday's grunting and dragging him away. "Okay. Okay!" He laughs.

"You're gross. I never should have introduced you two."

You follow after them, trailing behind until you're standing under the archway of your front door. Wednesday pushes him down the steps and he walks to the car that Lurch is putting his suitcases in. He offers you one last look, one last smile, and one last wave before climbing into the vehicle his father had sent for him.

Once the car drives out of the gate, Wednesday turns towards you. "Are you happy?"

"Uh, yes?"

She quietly groans. "And here I was preparing Enid to hide a body in the family cemetery. She'll be let down that all that studying was for naught."

You bark out a laugh. "Stop corrupting Enid, Wednesday."

"Never." Her lips twitch in amusement. "Now come on. Let's go visit Principal Weems."

"But my interview is still a couple days away."

"So? She needs to be kept on her toes. She'll have to grow used to having two Addams' in her school."

"If you say so."

"I do."

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.˚✩ Bloodlust 𓆩𓆪

𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

@milliesfishes 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!!!

Billy knew what was wrong the moment he called your name, unbuckling his gun belt and expecting a warm welcome home after a tiring day. All he got was a weak mumble from some room in the small house.

“Honey?” He called, hanging his hat on the coat rack, his boots thumping on the wood floor. Billy’s forehead was creasing. Well, he wasn’t expecting a king’s welcome, no red carpet or nothing, but he was a bit spoiled by you to expect a hug and kiss hello.

Billy realized your voice was coming from the bedroom, “Here,” you croaked. When he stepped into the doorway, he stopped in his tracks a moment.

There you laid, ever-beautiful, on your side with both hands tucked between your thighs. Your cheek was in the pillow, your usually entrancing eyes hollow as they lifted to meet Billy’s. “Hi.” You murmured, watching as Billy crossed the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He twisted to look at you, his calloused hand smoothing back your silky hair.

“Hey, baby doll..” Billy cooed, brows slightly lowered. His azure eyes darted over you almost frantically. “You okay?”

He knew the answer. He knew you were lying as you nodded that pretty little head of yours. He felt a bit sick looking down at your state.

“When’s the last time you ate, huh pretty girl?” Billy hummed, trying to keep his tone as lilted and cheery as he could manage, like he was talking to a sick kid. His expression betrayed his worry for you.

You shrugged lamely. Your lips moved silently for a moment, eyebrows pinching, before you spoke, defeated. “A few days.”

“How many’s a few?” Now, Billy couldn’t keep the distress from his voice.

“Five.” You breathed, you let your eyes flutter shut. You hear Billy click his tongue against his teeth, open your eye a crack to see him shaking his head at the window across from the bed. He sighed your name.

“What? I didn’t want to go out and— and hurt anybody, so I just put it off. I’ll go hunt when—“ Billy cut you off firmly.

“When y’cant move?” Billy hissed, the hand on your head moving down to the outer cusp of your shoulder. You opened your eyes, making eye contact as he told you off. You knew he had good intentions, he always did, but you were defiant above all else. “Or is that already happenin’? You were just gonna wait ‘till you’re too weak to even fix your lips to ask for some help?”

“I don’t need help. I’ll go tomorrow.” You huff, and Billy shakes his head. You had to admit— he was hot when he was angry with you. His nostrils flaring, brows thick and drawn low, eyes intense.

“No. No, you ain’t puttin’ this off any longer.” Billy fumed, breathing out like a bull through his nose. He shakes his head again as he makes quick and messy work of the bandana around his collar.

Only Billy could get mad that you weren’t taking care of yourself the way he would.

Your brows draw together, your hand moving to his forearm in a moot attempt to stop him. “Billy, no.”

“Yes.” Billy’s tone was firm, his expression serious. He wouldn’t budge on this, would he? But you wouldn’t let him win.

“I’m not feeding off you.” You hiss, but you can’t stop him from tossing aside his neck scarf and unbuttoning his collar. He clocks the way you swallow hard. Fuck all, he just smells so good.

The moment he walked through the door you were reminded of the dull, aching pang of hunger in your stomach. Billy’s scent was intense, overpowering, tempting. Even when you weren’t so starved. So unbelievably difficult to refuse, and he was just making things harder for you.

Billy gently took hold of both your forearms, lifting you to sit upright beside him. You were so weak that you leaned against him, his arm curling around your torso and holding you upright. “C’mere, c’mon.. Up y’go, baby girl.” You bury your nose in his shoulder, feeling awfully dizzy— dizzy with weakness, dizzy with that awful, gnawing hunger, dizzy with the smell of Billy.

“C’mon, baby.” Billy cooed, his hand not supporting you gently cradling your head and bringing it closer to his neck. He hoped you didn’t clock the way he swallowed hard. “You need it.”

“I won’t.” You breathed, but your voice wasn’t very assured. You sounded more like you were convincing yourself as much as him.

Billy wouldn’t have denied his nerves. You’d never fed from him. You swore you never would. But he was asking you to, he knew that you needed blood now. You were his top priority. So he disregarded the wavering of his hand as he stroked your hair, feeling your nose against his neck. “C’mon. Just a little. Just so y’can have energy t’hunt.” Billy assured you. “Please, baby, you’re scarin’ me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, you’d never forgive yourself. But you gently rubbed your nose to his neck, letting out a shudders breath. “Just a little.” You murmured. Billy nodded. But he knew he’d let you suck him dry if that’s what you needed.

He’d do anything for you.

You opened your mouth, your pearly fangs sinking into his neck and piercing the skin. Oh, the moment you tasted him, you were a goner. You could hardly think. Your mind was him, fully and utterly him, no room for anything but him.

Billy groaned in pain, his face screwing up and his hand tensing in your hair, but not pulling. It was such a strange feeling, such a draining and achy sensation. But it was helping you. You gained the strength to reach your hand up to tangle in his dark hair, your free hand resting gently over the opposite side of his neck. He tasted delicious, like a drug you couldn’t get off.

A grotesquely intimate thing, it was. A macabre, romantic thing, that Billy trusted you to take only what you needed. A morbid pleasure in drinking him in, the taste of his blood like crimson ambrosia on your tongue. More intimate than an ‘I love you,’ he’d dare say, though he knew he wouldn’t ever stop saying those words. More intimate than sex, though you knew you’d never get tired of his touch.

You were lost in it. His pained grunts and whimpers were the only way you could pull away from him, the only thing that could permeate your bloodlust-hazed mind. He grunted your name in a wavering, low and pleading voice.

You were careful to lick over the puncture wounds, sealing the wound and staunching the blood flow. Your hunger was barely satiated, but it was enough to feel alive again. You rested your forehead on his shoulder, licking your lips and wiping your chin with your knuckles.

“God.” Billy breathed, a hesitant hand coming to brush over the marks you’d left in his neck.

“There wasn’t anything holy about that.” You murmured bitterly, panting against his shirt, watching as the blood dribbling down your chin dripped onto the bed sheets. Billy turned his cheek, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Don’t care.” Billy says into your hair, his voice low, gravelly and masculine. “You feel better, baby girl?”

You couldn’t deny that you did. Oh, you hated yourself for it as you nodded against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You whispered, your voice meek and broken.

With surprising strength for a man whose mind was reeling from blood loss, Billy wrapped his other arm around your middle and pulled you into his lap, your legs across his. He looked up at you, those blue eyes filled with something you dared to name worshipping. “Don’t say sorry. I wanted you to, remember?” Billy pressed a kiss to your jaw, letting you thump your forehead against his.

Delicately, he swipes his calloused thumb across your chin, wiping up his own blood. “I love you, Billy, I love you.” You murmur, your brows drawing together in guilt. He simply couldn’t have that.

“I love you.” Billy cooed, his nose nudging yours affectionately. He pulls you into a loving yet chaste kiss, not torturing you with another taste of him. You were infinitely grateful, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. He leaned into the touch. “I’d do it again. If you wanted me to.”

“I wouldn’t.” Your reply was firm and instant. Billy nodded after a lingering moment, nosing your cheek. His eyelashes brushed against your skin and tickled you.

“I ‘least taste good?” Billy let out a breathy chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, as always. A faint smile crosses your lips.

“Delicious.”

[kissofthemis]

hello!! i saw request of reader saving nxx boys from people flirting/harassing them so i was thinking could you write about the opposite? id love to see nxx boys being protective^_^ love your writing!!

Thank you for the kind words, anon! Sorry for the wait!

❤️ Artem ❤️

"Yes, I have plans tonight. Yeah, tomorrow night as well. I'm a rather busy person, honestly...."

Despite your best efforts to deflect the stranger's attempts at flirting, clearly "no" was a hard concept for this pushy person to grasp. Artem could not blame you for not wanting to be direct; you were kind and courteous, never wanting to offend others or hurt their feelings if you could avoid it.

But this arrogant persistence was a force to be reckoned with.

"My phone number? To schedule something later? Ah..."

Artem Wing could hardly call himself a champion of justice if he allowed someone so conceited and disrespectful to be victorious here.

"Are you ready to head home?"

You seemed a bit startled as Artem appeared beside you, but the relief in your eyes was evident. "Y-yes. I just finished up for the day."

Artem nodded briskly. "Excellent. I took out chicken this morning, and I was wondering if you'd rather have it grilled or breaded & stir-fried. We can discuss in the car."

He gave a quick glance to the stranger who'd been pestering you, who had become strangely silent once Artem had shown up. The look in the attorney's eyes was collected and calm, but sharp with an iciness that could freeze one to the bone.

"Have a good evening."

More indirect than his usual style, but intense enough to get the point across.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💛 Luke 💛

"I'm in a hurry, I'm sorry."

"Can't even give me your number? Just your number, for when you aren't busy?"

"I... I'm running late...."

The discomfort in your voice was evident as Luke turned the corner to pick you up after work. Evidently he should have chosen a better spot to meet up, because this corner was swarming with pushy, insensitive animals.

"Swarming" may not have been the correct term, but just one scumbag harassing you was one too many in Luke's eyes.

"You're so cold." What a pitiful whine. "Would it kill you to smile and be friendly?"

"You want a smile, huh?"

Luke pulled up to your side at that moment, and he firmly placed his hand on your shoulder as he stared the harasser down. "You're not much to smile at, hotshot, but I'll do my best."

"Who the hell are you, kid? Get lost."

Agitation. A natural response when a greedy predator comes face to face with a rival.

But Luke had no qualms about knocking a small fry down a peg or two.

The corners of his mouth turned upward into a smirk, and he stretched his lips into a wide, toothy grin. At least, his face read "grin," but the light in his smile did not reach his eyes, which only swarmed with smoking fury and threatening shadow, like a stormcloud about to burst.

Perhaps it was the unsettling, cocky grin that made this fool step back. Perhaps it was the bloodlust in Raven's gaze. In any event, a loud curse was the only word of farewell before the nuisance turned and headed off. Luke felt as though he were watching a small dog stomp off with its tail between its legs.

"L-Luke..." you began cautiously. The brunet turned to you curiously, his eyes now sparkling and his mouth set in a lopsided, well-meaning smile. At the sudden change in demeanor, you couldn't help but let out a loq chuckle. "You're going to give someone a heart attack one of these days, you big guard dog."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💜 Marius 💜

Backed against a wall.

This wasn't the first time someone had inquired into your relationship with the Marius von Hagen, president of Pax, but...

"Good morning! Meeting Mr. von Hagen? How does he take his coffee? Would you answer a couple of que--"

You slammed the door in the paparazzi's face. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that getting caught on one outing with Marius would result in nosy reporters coming to your home!

With a sigh you slid down against the front door, landing in an unceremonious heap on the floor. How were you supposed to leave today? Or any day? You had errands to run, tasks to do, bills to pay, and you really, really wanted to check out the craft fair at Central Plaza this weekend!

A soft buzzing in your pocket distracted you temporarily from your growing worries.

"See you in 10."

What? Marius was on his way here? Wouldn't that cause even more problems?

You didn't get a chance to assemble your thoughts before a low rumble began to vibrate in your ears and make your entire body shake.

"Go on! Get out of here! You're a public nuisance, and I've got a fantastic attorney! Isn't a guy allowed to have friends?!"

You peered out of your window, and there was Pax's main man, wind whipping his dark bangs in his handsome face. He gripped a megaphone in his hands, looking relaxed and smug, but his knuckles were white with his stress. Vincent must have given him a heads up.

Marius' voice blasting out of the megaphone simultaneously filled you with hope and warmth, but also horror and despair. How would you ever beat the dating allegations now?

More importantly, where was he planning to park a helicopter?!

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💚 Vyn 💚

"Thank you."

You dipped your head politely to acknowledge your gratitude to the stranger who had offered to lead you to the student center. Stellis University's campus looked much different in the evening light, when fewer students were milling about. You should have been able to find it on your own, and yet...

For better or for worse, a young man had noticed you, and when he approached you explained your situation. He had agreed to lead you over, perhaps a bit too gleefully. But you were grateful for the help, and so you acquiesced, but you kept your finger hovering over a "dial" button on your phone just in case.

After your quick goodbye, you spun on your heel to enter the student center.

However, your escort didn't seem too thrilled to see you leaving so speedily.

"That's it?" he huffed. "A half-assed thank you? No phone number, no hug, not even a last name? Are you serious?" His voice kept rising with each word, his tone growing steadily angrier. "I did you a favor by even talking to an ugly brat like you. Have you ever tried smiling with that gloomy face of yours, you miserable fuck?"

Ah. One of those.

You weren't going to dignify that with a response, but then you heard footsteps behind you.

No. Don't come closer. You didn't want any trouble, least of all from an entitled, arrogant--

"Aha. I was afraid I'd have to send campus security out looking for you."

A familiar voice hummed by your ear, and your face lit up with relief. "Dr. Richter!"

A slender but firm hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up to see bright golden eyes meet yours. Those eyes were like a beacon in the darkening night, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of them.

"The swing dancing starts any minute now. You have impeccable timing, as always." He let out a breathy chuckle.

"That should be my line, Dr. Richter," you retorted lightly.

Of course, the punk behind you hadn't left or stopped shouting. In fact, his rage only seemed to have grown since Vyn appeared, but Vyn paid him absolutely no mind. He must deal with rowdy students regularly, but this was something else entirely.

"Before we go inside," Vyn began, reaching into his coat pocket. "Let's clean you up."

"Hmm?" You didn't think you had any dirt on you, but you didn't protest as Vyn pulled out a silk handkerchief and gently began dabbing at your cheeks, nose, and hands.

"After all," he continued, and he lifted his gaze from your skin. But his eyes didn't go to yours this time; he appeared to be staring past you, at someone else.

You were grateful you couldn't see the exact look in his eyes as he murmured in a voice colder than the night breeze and sharper than a doctor's scalpel, "Spending too much time around ill-mannered, foul-tempered, idiotic boors is proven to be terrible for your health." His voice dropped an octave, and you couldn't help but shiver as he finished,

"And... if they are as foolish as they are filthy, terrible for their health as well."

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader, 3.7k words, WARNINGS: mentions of blood, injury, stitches, cursing, violence

Guys... is it weird that I'm crying a little? This is the first series that I've ever done. This is from the first post i ever made on this blog, and I feel like I've met so many amazing people from this series. I did spend a good amount of time thinking of a good way to close this series, and I can only hope that I made it good enough for you guys. My heart breaks leaving these two behind, but I don't think this is the end for them. I do see myself writing some one shots or other things for these two. But regardless... I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this final installment. Sending all of my love always. - Mo

---

Any soldier worth his salt knows what getting shot feels like. Either through their own experience or staying beside their brother. They all say the same thing.

A hard punch.

The immediate all encompassing burn.

Your body feels like you’ve been run over by a train.

Your body on fire.

Air sliding through your lungs like glass shards.

Alfred Solomons has been shot five times.

Six counting this one. The first time was when he was 14, and he was caught snatching sweets from the corner store, and the old store owner with the bad eyes shot at Alfie, grazing his left thigh. The other four times were in the war. Foot and shoulder and once in the lower back, which is still troubling him to this day. All of those were the same. Rage inducing. The bloodlust burning brighter than the flame of the pain. In hours he was fixed up. Rusty scalpels and pliers pulling out the shrapnel as he numbed the cuts by drowning in drink and breaking metal bars with his teeth.

This one was different. The burn and hit was memorable. As memorable as a betrayal. But the bloodlust that got him through that burn wasn’t present. Like warm oil being poured over his mind and body he felt the exhaustion of the tears settle over him. And look. An angel has come to take him to stay with the forefathers. Wow… what a mercy… the angel looks so much like you. Sounds and smells just like you. Like lavender. Like spilled ink and fresh paper. So soft and tender. What a mercy God has given him. That the angel to walk him to the other side would look like the only woman he has ever truly loved.

Tommy and Ollie rush over, as John pulls you away from Alfie's body. You screamed and kicked, trying to get free from John's grasp. "It's alright love it's alright. They're going to fix him up I promise love! He's gonna be ok!" John tried to calm you but you were inconsolable as you saw Alfie's lifeless body being carried out. It takes four men to life his large and hardened body off the ground, a pool of garnet the only sign of the King of Camden’s presence.

John’s attempts at soothing and assurance are met with deaf ears. What point is there for calm and rationalization when Alfie might be leaving you. What point was there to breathe, if breathing meant prolonging a life on Earth that may not have Alfie. Your mind was blank. And you body could do the only rational thing it could do. Wail and preparation for the certain mourning to come.

With a hard smack across your face you suddenly cease, as you see Polly's face in front of you, "Enough! This is not the time for screaming!"

Your lip quivered, never had you been smacked like that before. With a wave, Polly dismissed John to assist Ollie and Tommy, and took you to a chair to sit. Polly wiped your tears, "I am sorry for slapping you, usually I don't smack friends till we are at least 3 months acquainted, but I felt you needed it and I'm sure our friendship will survive. But you need to pull it together darling."

You nodded. It was needed. Even if your ego was now bruised. Polly sighed, "I know you're scared. We all have been in your shoes. But you cannot lose yourself. We need to be there for our men. Yes?"

You nodded. Your man. Your Alfie. Polly stroked your face, "He will live.”

“How can you be sure?”

Polly gives you an embarrassed look, attempting to push up the corner of her mouth, “They always do darling. Try as they might to die, they somehow always make it out. I think God may think these episodes are more of a punishment than Hell.”

A defeated chuckle pushes out of your chest. Alfie would say something as dark as that. And for some reason that makes you feel better. Makes you feel more centered. Polly grabs a bottle from the ground and takes a long swig before passing it to you. You take a longer one, pushing to suppress the sick face you make. Polly’s eyes are glassy, looking at your young face. Thinking and considering how you would handle this. Handle this life. Because if her intuition was right, and it always was, this wouldn’t be the last time you experienced this. This wouldn’t deter you from being next to Alfie. As if Alfie would ever let you go.

Polly stood up suddenly, looking in the gilded mirror on the wall nearest to her, smoothing her dress and repinning those loose curls that fell out in the fray. She holds out a regal hand to you, “C’mon dear. I know where they’d be taking him. He’ll want you near I wager.”

You nod and stand up, not making anymore to wipe the blood or tears off your face. Though it doesn’t stop Polly from straightening out your slip and placing your hair more akin to how you came in. As you begin walking to the door, you see a familiar glint in the shadows and wet of the floor.

Alfie’s signet ring. Small. Small for Alfie at least. You knew him to wear it on his left pinky amongst the rest of his rings. Pure gold, with a royal S engraved onto its front with ivy and thorns. You pause to pick it up and hold it in your hand. It must have slipped off in the scuffle and removal of his body. Polly looked behind herself to see what had made you stop, and marveled at how you had even caught it, “How did you even see that?”

“I suppose I’m just good at looking for his things.”

Polly smiled softly, a familiar ache in her chest reappearing. “Well make sure you don’t drop it hmm? I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

You nod, immediately slipping it onto your left ring finger. You knew innately it wouldn’t budge. It was a perfect fit.

The Shelby family had a trusted physician who routinely dealt with these sort of things. Stand. Cuts. Gunshots. The occasional childhood scrape or concussion when the children needed a good scolding and scare to not be stupid. Dr. Hendricks had been the Shelby physician for many many years. So when he was called for ‘a slight emergency’ he knew that he needed to make immediate preparations.

The Shelby boys and Ollie bashed in the ornate door of Dr. Hendricks’ door, and were immediately met with Mrs. Hendricks pushing the men into the dining room. Already prepped and cold with sterile air Dr. Hendricks directed further with a low and booming voice, “Right here Mr. Shelby, hurry, can’t risk anymore blood loss.”

Alfie was pale, but was still breathing and choking out small groans. Mrs. Hendricks worked diligently alongside the Doctor, who asked questions and made conversation with the men, trying to bring down the tension. “Mr. Solomons boys? Why the sudden fit of charity.”

Mrs. Hendricks hushed him and his sore mouth. But his cheek was what made him so beloved by the Shelbys. Even in what seemed like dire moments, the good Doctor was never one to shy away from a joke or jab. Suddenly Alfie groaned under the crowd. Tommy looked down, shocked Alfie was awake now. Alfie, through the pain and blood, groaned and moaned your name through his teeth. Tommy grabbed Alfie’s arm, “Alright Alfie alright. She’s coming. Took a little bit of a hit didn’t ya old man? You stay awake now for her yeah? Can’t let the girl see ya like this.”

The pain was a hell of a drug, and Alfie could only slur out, “She ok? That little viper make it out ok?”

Tommy could only smile. Even with all the blood loss he was still himself. “Yeah Alfie. Yeah she’s alright. A right harpy screaming out for ya. Now you gotta get fixed up for when she comes back alright?”

Alfie nodded, slipping in and out as the final fragments were being removed, “As soon as im stitched up… I’m killing every Sabini I see. Then I’m fuckin marrying her… you hear me?”

Tommy smiled as Dr. Hendricks scoffed, “I hear you Alfie. I know you will.”

Alfie passed back out on the table. Dr. Hendricks nodded at Tommy and Ollie, “He’ll be alright. Nearly hit some vital organs but it’s alright. Have a nasty scar though, I’m sure he won’t mind. He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the night and into the morning. You all stay here, let’s keep an eye on him yeah? Mrs. Hendricks? Would you call the kitchen to make some supper for the gentlemen here and ladies to come?”

Mrs. Hendricks and the kitchen must have indeed been witches in a past life, or in the present. because there was no logical reason that such a warm and delectable feast could have been prepared so quickly. Soup and bread and cold chicken brought up with strong tea and coffee. When John Shelby asked for gin, his head was swiftly smacked by the effervescent Mrs. Hendricks, who quickly reminded him that she knew where all his sore spots were.

Polly and you arrived soon enough, and were embraced by the Doctor and his wife. The Shelby men stood up quickly, nodding to you in respect. Ollie shucked off his coat to drape over you. It was warm in the house. But your shivering wasn’t for cold.

Before you could look to Dr. Hendricks, he gruffed out from behind his thick salt and pepper beard, “No need to fret Miss. He was a model surgical patient. Nearly slept through the entire thing. In fact that stomach of his is a model for good stitchin’ would you like to see?”

Before Dr. Hendricks could pull back the clean and crisp cotton laid over Alfie’s bare torso to show you his no doubt fantastic work, Mrs. Hendricks stopped with a cherub like hand on his thick arm, “My dear, I don’t think the lady would feel keen on seeing her darling cut and stitched. Maybe some other time yes? Why don’t we let her have time alone with Mr. Solomons? It’s late. I think we should all retire yes?”

With a look around the room everyone nodded, giving their best to you and expressing incredible thank to the Doctor and Mrs. Hendricks. The Shelby boys tipped their hats to you as they filed out. Ollie nodded to you, assuring you that he’d alert your family of your whereabouts. Polly gave you a motherly hug, kissing the tip of your head, “Chin up dear. Must be strong when he wakes up. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

As soon as you came in, you were left alone. With the soft voice of Mrs. Hendricks pulling out of your numb trance. “Let’s get you cleaned up dear. Get you in something a little more comfortable. My daughter was about your size, and I have some of her clothes in her old room.”

Like a child who just woke out of a long slumber, you were lead down the short hallways littered with photos and paintings and certificates to the now guest room of the Hendricks home. Once she realized you had gone nearly despondent, Mrs. Hendricks helped you out of your stained dress, and into a soft cream colored night gown, with pink ribbon threaded through the top. She called one of the maids bring up hot water to wash the makeup, dirt, and dried crusted blood off your face and arms. Your dress was taken to be washed, and Mrs. Hendricks un-pinned your hair, getting it loose and out of your face. She sat you back in the make shift hospital room once she assured your were comfortable and clean. She poured tea for you. Something strong. Something hot. Your thumb rubbed across the delicate ridges on the cup, incredibly interested in the greenery hand painted on the china. Unable to face the near stillness of Alfie on a table.

“You love him don’t you?”

You feel those tears welling up in your eyes. Unable to speak any louder than a whisper, you confess, “Very much.”

She smiled softly, placing her thick soft hands on your knee, “He called for you.”

You looked up, “Did he?”

A soft chuckle left her, and she sounded so much like your mother, “He did. That’s the thing about these military gangster men yeah? Big and strong and tough. Till they get hurt. Then they cry for their women. I think we are the only things that help.”

You nodded, a pained smile sneaking on your lips, hands gingerly slipping into his rough hands. So much gentler now in sleep. Your eyes never leave his hands as you ask, “How do you stand it? How does any woman stand it?”

Mrs. Hendricks just sighs. Remembering the old days with her dear husband James. Back when he running with the Lee boys. When the medical practice wasn’t just a medical practice. There was a reason he was so good at stitching people up. Mrs. Hendricks leaned back in the chair, “By trusting them. By scolding them. Telling them off when they’re being outrageous. By standing by them. Because we know even a little bit of time with them is better than a life without them.”

Mrs. Hendricks then stands up, “It’s nearly 2 sweetie. Why don’t you take Jeanine’s old room? He’ll be there when you wake up.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No. Thank you Mrs. Hendricks. Thank you very much for your hospitality. But I want to be here when he wakes. I just… I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

She softly smiles, a tear slipping by, “Alright sweetie. That’s fine. I’ll bring you a couple blankets then. And a pillow just in case. Feel free to walk around the house if you need. Kitchen is all yours.”

You’re not sure how long you stayed awake after the gifts of the blankets were delivered. But you never laid down. You sat on one of the chairs placed on the dining room table where Alfie laid. You brushed the hair out of his face and ran your fingers over his beard and scars. You rattled off the notes you had for the gaming club. You whispered to him about the set up, the prices, and how he should really be more affable with the customers. But mostly you whispered how much you loved him. How much you wished you had told him sooner. How much he scared you doing that. You chastised him for putting himself in such grave danger. And for every insult and admonishment you kissed a knuckle and scar. Every kiss an oath that you would not leave him. Not willingly. Not before death.

It was mid morning when Alfie’s gruff voice woke you, “Well ain’t you a picture.”

You gasped and sat up straight, hand clutching Alfie’s warm hand. His hand squeezed back tiredly, “Now I know I’m damned… but this sure don’t look like hell… too nice ain’t it. And I know the devil wouldn’t let an angel like you in hell with me.”

“Oh shut up you wretched old man please.”

You crashed your lips into his, relishing even in his slightly chapped lips as he chuckled into you. You feel him move under you, “Now now sweetheart easy on the old man. Don’t go popping my stitches now. Oh treacle why are you crying my dove? I’m here ain’t I? Old Alfie’s alright.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling, “I… Alfie I… you nearly died.”

He sneered, “Nah. The bastard barely nicked me. What about you eh? No bumps or bruises on you?”

You shook your head and sniffled. You knew you looked pathetic but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Alfie was alive. Not when you got to see him in the morning light like this. Alfie groaned as he pushed himself off the table. You moved to help him as he motioned you to settle. He got up, limped to another chair to sit down. The stitches held and he looked good. Still a bit pale but good. “Do you need water Alfie? Tea? I can call for breakfast.”

He shook his head, “No not yet love thank you… but come here.”

The wood floors were cold on your bare feet as you softly walked over to him. He stared up at you, as he tugged on your nightgown, signaling you to sit. Carefully… oh so carefully you sat on his lap, legs swinging over the side, wrapping your arms around his neck. Alfie leaned back with a sigh, bringing you closer, “This is all I need treacle. Just need you near.”

Stroking the scar on his jaw you whispered, “I was so scared Alfie… I thought we’d lost you.”

With half lidded eyes Alfie stared at you. Your sweet lips and teary eyes. A picture of beauty and serenity. The rough callouses on his hands caressed up and down your bare arms, “You’re never going to lose me dearie. I’ll always be here. No matter what. You know why?”

The way his eyes become like fire makes your heart beat faster, “Why?”

He brings your hand to his heart. His own hand dwarfing yours as you feel the strong and steady heartbeat in his chest, “Because this sweetheart… this belongs to you… No matter what happens… in this life the next one and every other fuckin one… I belong to you. You ain’t ever got to worry about what might happen because I’m with you. You got it?”

You smile, nodding, feeling as though your heart is going to burst, “My heart belongs to you Alfie.”

“You don’t have to say it back treacle.”

“I do if it’s the truth.”

A blush rose in his cheeks, barely concealed by his beard and the smile that broke out on his face. “Well… treacle… if that’s the case… I wanted to ask you in a more romantic way…”

“Alfred Solomons…”

“But this seems like a good time…”

“I swear if you dare ask me…”

“And we never know what’s to happen next…”

“Alfred Solomons I am in a night gown!”

“Woman if you do not be quiet I am trying to ask you to be my wife!!”

Your hand flies to your mouth in utter shock. Alfie’s brows are furrowed but he’s trying to keep the smile off his face, “Marry me sweetheart. Be my wife please. I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly be a tame boy but I can promise you that I love you more than any other man ever could love a woman. You can scold me all you want and I’ll never be cross with you.”

He watches you bite your lip and think, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven for real this time. You cheekily smile, “I do like it when you’re cross though.”

A dark glint flashes in his eyes as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, which you all too willingly return. When you come up for air he asks you again, “Is that a yes? You going to be my wife?”

You laugh, “Yes Alfie. Always yes.”

Laughs escaped out of you in a stampede as he presses a million prickly kisses to your cheeks. He mumbles out onto your face, "I need to get you a ring. We'll go to the shop yeah? You pick out any ring you like, I'll resize whatever I need to. Fuck we'll design it for ya yeah?"

You push him back from his assault on your face and hold up your left hand, The one holding his signet, "One could say I have one already. You dropped it on the way over."

Alfie grabbed your wrist to inspect your hand. When he finally recognized the ring and noticed his own was missing, his laughter roared out, "Fuck me you are always so prepared. Always two steps ahead of me ain't ya? Well alright treacle. There's your engagement ring for now. But on our wedding day, I'm giving you a dazzling rock you hear me?"

You laugh again as he rants and raves for his idea of a ring for you. Knowing inside that it didn't matter what he gave you. If he gave you a ring at all. All that mattered was that he was here. He was yours. And you are is.

6 Months Later

The slow sea air dances in through the open window, sending the gossamer curtains floating around you. The radio scratches out something slow and tantalizing from America, the notes sending shivers down your spine. You're dizzy from the night you've had. The butterflies and bubbly drinks and spinning along the floor. You can't believe it happened. You can't believe your wedding day arrived. You feel as though you're amongst the clouds. The only thing keeping you anchored to the Earth is Alfie's grip on your white satin slip as you sway against him to the music.

Late at night. Early morning. Too much work to tell. But it was the first time in a week that you've been able to be alone with Alfie. Your husband.

"What're you thinking about my love?"

You press your face against his chest, shirt long discarded, "I'm just so happy. I didn't think I'd have this. That we'd have this.'

He hums as he presses his lips to your hair, smelling the perfume that had been brushed through your hair. "But we have it now. This is the greatest gift I've ever received. This is the life I've always dreamed of sweet."

You continue to dance with your husband until your bodies couldn't take it anymore. Soon enough he carried you to bed, quickly drifting off into deep sleep in Alfie's arms. In the morning you would wake not as a secretary. Not as a scared girl. Not as someone who felt as she didn't belong. But as Alfie's wife. Alfie's partner. A confidant. A capable woman running a business alongside her best friend. Tomorrow you would wake up excited for this next part of your life. Waking up to a new beginning.

Tag List:

@jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee , @galactict3a , @il0vebeingdelulu @enretrogue @j23r23 @mulletmcghee @afuckingdisasterreally @graceisinloveagain

[corazondebeskar-reads]

all I did was what I had to - part two

all I did was what I had to miniseries

part two: this world is not made for you

series masterlist | part one | part two | part three

dark!raider/hunter!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a near-death experience, you thank Joel on your knees in an abandoned Burger King. (This takes place before parts one and three but is best read in this order.)

Warnings: dark, dub-con, dark!Joel Miller, raider/hunter!Joel Miller, muddled themes of captivity, attempted sexual assault (not by Joel), canon-typical violence, dead dove do not eat, watersports, piss drinking, oral (m receiving), d/s dynamics if you squint, humiliation, punishment

Inspired by this prompt list from @absurdthirst. I did not come up with raider/hunter!Joel or dark!Joel and many great writers have built in this sandbox before me

also on ao3

“What's got you all riled up, huh?” Joel asks as you’re drying your face off on the back of his shirt. He had done the same with yours, given that it was essentially the only unsoiled spot on either of your outfits.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah? You haven’t kept your eyes off me all afternoon. What would I find if I checked your panties?”

“M’not wearing any.”

He should know, he provides all of your clothes.

Joel laughs, turning around and grabbing you by the bicep. “That’s right.”

He pushes you down, but you go willingly. He wasn’t wrong. You’d been buzzing with unspent adrenaline, the image of him haunting you. The blood on his shirt and arms is still wet from when you encountered the first man at the edge of the woods. Joel, with wild curls and wilder eyes, had crept up behind him, wrapped an arm around his chest, and slit his throat.

From your knees on the muddy, chipped tile, you can see blood splatter under his chin, barely visible in his beard. It probably shouldn't be making you wetter.

The men's bathroom of an abandoned Burger King is as gross as it sounds, but the windows of the restaurant were busted out, and you needed a place to breathe after the fight.

Well, he needed a place to breathe after the fight. You needed a place to breathe after, well. After.

He looked down at you and shook his head. “Bein’ good now ain’t gonna save ya from being in trouble.”

Damn. You knew he was still mad.

When he had finished carving up the fourth and last hunter, still in the throes of bloodlust, he had rounded on you.

“This is why I didn’t want to bring you out here. I told you it wasn’t fuckin’ safe.” He shook the blade at you like a teacher waggling a finger at a pupil.

“I’m sorry,” you had whispered. But you weren’t as meek as you should be, not as cowed. Because he had killed them all for you. “Maybe if I could—”

He stalked up, grabbing your (his) shirt in one fist, the bloody knife still clutched in the other. “If you could what, huh? If you could pay attention to your fucking surroundings? If you could stop wanderin’ off?”

“I wasn’t wandering! I was just trying to give you a little privacy; I only went around the corner.” You tried to look at him, but all you could see was the knife. And the blood on his forearm by your face.

He shook his head. “I told you to stay close. You wanted to go out so bad. Ain’t any bathrooms outside, sweetheart. What did you fuckin’ expect?”

“If I could just have a-a knife or a—”

“Shut up. You know you ain’t gettin’ a gun or a knife. Jesus.”

“You could teach me, I could do it.”

“I said shut up.” He shakes you by the fist in your shirt, and you purse your lips shut, eyes infuriatingly wet.

He let go, letting you stumble back. “Good girl. Now let’s get going.”

Neither of you spoke until you reached the Burger King.

Now, you wait patiently for his cock, with your mouth open, tongue out, just like he liked, hands clasped behind your back. “M’not trying to get out of trouble.”

“Oh yeah? Just need my dick in your throat?”

You nod.

He grabs your head and starts to unbuckle his belt, and you can’t help it; you jerk and scramble backward, catching yourself on your hands.

He’s so surprised that he lets go. You’ve never once tried to pull away, never refused him anything. Sure, you’ve hesitated for a moment, or flinched, but he’s not a monster, he didn't count those against you.

He puts his hands up, belt hanging loose, but you don’t see. You’re tensing every muscle, eyelids squeezed tight.

“Hey,” he says.

You startle and look up at him, and start to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise, I’ll be good.”

He finds he likes your tears a lot less when he hasn't caused them. He crouches down in front of you. The blood dried in your hair and soaking your shirt is enough of a reminder of what must have happened right before he found you. “Shit, sweetheart, I didn’t think about it. C’mere.” He pulls you in, and you let him wrap his arms around you while you cry.

Later, you’ll look back on moments like that and what comes after, and wonder why you don’t care more. Why it’s okay when it’s Joel. Why it didn’t even occur to you to try to take his gun when it’s just the two of you out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with no one around to avenge him.

It’s not a hard question to answer, but it’s a hard answer to admit.

When you’ve calmed a little, he stands back up. He’s scowling, brow furrowed. It’s not a good omen, but there’s nothing to do but settle back onto your knees and wait.

He shakes his head. “I think we gotta do it, sweetheart. Gotta erase it from your mind. Should only be me you think about when you’re down there.”

It’s not a surprise, really. You had known, when he found you at the hunter’s mercy, that you’d pay for it somehow. For getting yourself in that situation after everything he does to protect you.

So, even though a few more tears slip free, you open your mouth, tongue out, and wait.

“Knew you were still my good girl,” he says, and grabs you. He gets his cock out and holds you there, two inches from the thick, drooling tip.

It's hard not to fight, at first. You have to take tattered breaths through your open mouth. But it helps, somehow, that he doesn't take his eyes off you.

You hate that he’s right. You hate that the longer you kneel here, forced to relive this morning, that you feel better. You’re not scared. It’s Joel. And he didn’t let that man hurt you, wouldn’t let him keep hurting you in your mind.

After a few more minutes, your traitorous brain sees nothing more than his hand around his cock and how the same hand had been wrapped around the knife, had slit the hunter's throat. You’re desperate for it. You beg, and he grins.

“See? Nice ‘n easy. Alright, go ahead.” He lets go completely. For now, at least. He usually likes to fuck your face to finish, no matter how it starts.

You swallow him down, pushing until you choke and struggling to stay there. You give him your gratitude the best way you know how, the way he’s trained you to. You only pull off for a moment to ask permission to use your hands, which he grants you.

You wrap one around his thigh for leverage, pulling yourself closer and holding tight. You roll his balls with the other, squeezing gently and caressing. It’s wet and noisy, but you’ve long since shed any embarrassment about sucking him off.

He was mean, but he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t humiliate you about the things he wanted you to do with fervor. And he liked you begging and desperate for his cock.

He only holds you down at the end, when he cums down your throat. When he lets go, he steps back and looks at you.

“If somethin’ like that ever happens again, if anyone else tries to touch you, you bite ‘em.” He wipes spilled cum from the corner of your lip with his thumb and pushes it inside your mouth. “You bite their fuckin’ prick off if you can. They’ll make enough noise that I’ll be able to find you.”

He withdraws his thumb, and his face turns to stone. “Not that it’ll happen, ‘cause you’re never leaving the goddamn house again.”

Your face falls, but you nod.

“Speaking of which, sweetheart. You have somethin' to make up to me still. Now, I don’t want to punish you. You’ve had a hard day.”

The pause is bait, but you don’t fall for it. You don’t whine or thank him, not yet. The glint in his eye tells you he’s not really sparing you.

“I think, instead, you need to learn a lesson.”

There it is. Lessons and punishments weren’t very distinguishable—to you, at least, since they usually ended up with you crying.

“What lesson do you think you need to learn, sweetheart?”

“I shouldn’t wander off.” You keep your voice quiet, head lowered, and hold still. If he thinks you’re already halfway there, he might go easy on you.

Or not.

“And why’d you wander off?”

“Because I—you were—”

“Spit it out, sweetheart.”

“Because you were, y’know, using the bathroom.”

“You mean takin’ a piss out in the open.”

“Yeah.”

“You scared of seeing a little piss? ‘Cause I know ya ain’t scared of my dick.”

“It’s private, I just—”

“No such thing with you and me, honey. You kissed that goodbye a long time ago. You’re just spoiled at home.”

Oh no. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault, sweetheart. I spoiled ya. We’re just gonna have to get you used to it.”

You can tell when he decides what to do. His lips curl at the corner, and he strokes your cheek, so you know you’re in for it.

“Tell ya what. We can do it right now. Seems like the perfect place.”

You can’t say you’d ever have called a Burger King bathroom the perfect place for anything, even peeing. But he seems very pleased with the irony.

“Where do you want it, sweetheart? In your cunt?” He’s watching you too intently. “On your tits? In your mouth?”

You try to stop it, but you press your lips together sharply, stomach clenching.

“Bingo. You got it, sweetheart.”

You think about begging, but nauseatingly, it’s the best of the choices he gave you. The other two would leave you soaked all the way home.

He taps your lips. “Open up.”

You take a deep breath and force yourself to obey. Your muscles fight you, some part of you still sane enough to scream out against his treatment, but you win in the end.

Or, at least, Joel wins.

You look up at him. He’s full-out smirking now, not bothering to hide his excitement. You wonder if he’s actually turned on by pissing in you or if it’s just the power and humiliation.

Your bet’s on the second, otherwise, he’d have done it by now.

You know you're right when the next order comes.

“Touch your clit.”

“What?”

“Don’t talk back. Do as you’re fuckin’ told. I want you to rub your little clit while you drink my piss.”

You choke back a small sob and slide your hand down your sweatpants. Nausea swirls, and you start to breathe rapid and shallow.

He cups your cheek in his broad, rough palm, pleased when you obey. He pulls his cock back out and sets the tip on your extended tongue, leaving it there for a moment to watch your eyes widen, and your muscles tremble with the effort of holding still.

You’re still working at your clit, fingers rubbing hard as you try to concentrate on the pleasure. He rewards you by pushing his cock further into your mouth before he fills it, saving you the effort of struggling to swallow and sparing you from the strongest of the taste.

When he pulls back out, you sob freely. He crouches down and removes your hand from your cunt to replace it with his own. You’re wet enough that he dips three fingers right into you and grinds the heel of his hand against your clit.

“I got you, sweetheart. It’s okay. You did good. Go ahead and cum.”

And you do. You deny Joel nothing. And when you’re pleasantly dizzy after three orgasms, he pulls his hand out and sucks your juices off his fingers, groaning.

He stands up before reaching a hand to you to pull you up.

“Alright, let’s get goin’ home. I ain’t fuckin’ you on the floor here.”

We didn’t even find any books, you sulk in the privacy of your brain.

Except Joel was right. You have no privacy. When he glances at you, he knows. “Whatever you’re thinkin’, I suggest ya stop thinkin’ it real quick.”

The next time he returns from a raid, he tosses you a beat-up copy of “The Hobbit.”

*title from "Run Boy Run" by Woodkid, which I listened to on repeat while writing this, if you're looking for an authentic experience lol

[humming-star]

Forgotten Friends and Their Hauntings!

König x Reader x Ghost

Gender neutral reader!

First time writer!

Feel free to tell me if there's any misspelled words!

Or if you have any advice!

-------

Chapter 1 - Audience With a.... Specter?

-------

The day had begun just like any other day on base.

You had woken up before the rest of the corporals as usual, eaten a normal breakfast of toast and sat alone, as usual. You had almost been late to combat practice, as usual, even when trying not to.

When you finally leave the sparring room, it's with sore muscles after hours of almost nonstop training. Slinging your bag over your shoulder on the way out, you begin your way to the showers.

After a moment of walking a call of your last name stops you and you turn to see the recent addition of the Colonel. The mountainous Austrian man strides to stand before you and looks down at you. Your head only just reaches his pecs, making you feel tiny in comparison to him.

"Colonel, sir!" You speak deferentially, a hand coming up in a salute, his sheer presence alone commanding your respect.

"At ease.... You will come to my office at 2000 tonight, bitte" He commands politely, his blue eyes flickering over your face. You notice him fiddling with something in one of his large, gloved hands.

You blink up at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, before your eyes widen in no small amount of shock and fear. Though you had been to the Captain's office before, with talks of promotion, the Colonel's is another matter entirely.

"Yes sir....." You manage to strangle out with a small nod, your voice trembling slightly as your nerves break though.

He seems to notice your nerves with his laser-like gaze and his posture relaxes slightly, his eyes looking down at you with an emotion you can't decipher. His eyes squint at you in what you think is a smile before he speaks.

"There is no need to worry, Corporal. You have done nothing wrong" He affirms, a softness unexpected from someone with his reputation in his voice. Before you can even think to reply to his words, he strides off, leaving you staring agape at his back.

You had, of course, heard of the Colonel's skill in battle, not to mention his bloodlust. You just hope that you're not on the receiving end of his anger, though with how things in your life have been so far, you may as well be.

You had spoken to the man once or twice before..... though every time had seemed amicable, so you didn't know of anything that you could have said to offend the massive man, which may be good news....?

Shaking your head you make an attempt at not worrying about it, before continuing on your way to the showers.

--------

Hours later you panic as you check the time, realising you only have twenty minutes to get to the Colonel's office, which is on the other side of the base from your quarters entirely.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you speed through the halls and you almost knock over several people in your haste. You shout apologies as you run by, the fear of being late far outweighing any guilt.

Passing through the doors of the quarters, a deluge of rain hails down upon you, the cold of it making you shiver. Your pace quickens and your boots splash through puddles on the ground, the door to the mess hall like a blur in the corner of your eye as you pass it by.

You skid to a stop in front of the Operator's quaters five minutes later, soaked to the bone and panting harshly. After a moment of catching your breath you enter the building, a combination of the sprint and fear of what's about to happen causing your heart to beat rapidly in your chest.

Though trying not to run and slip through the halls of the Operator's quaters, you make your way to the Colonel's office just in time, the nameplate on the door the only indicator that you're in the correct place. You heave in a few calming breaths and try to make yourself look as presentable as possible, sopping with rain as you are.

You knock on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet of the halls. Your ears manage to catch the shuffle of quiet footsteps approaching the door and you stand up straight, awaiting the Colonel with an apology on the tip of your tounge.

The door creaks open slowly and a bone white skull emerges from behind the door, the shadows seeming to cling to his back. You startle as you see two blazing brown eyes glare down at you from where they sit, surrounded by eyeblack. You recognise man as Lieutenant Ghost, his distinct mask making the man easily identifiable.

His gait is almost predatory as he stalks out of the office, his muscles flexing in the tight black t-shirt as he moves and you can't help but admire them. With a soft click the door of König's office closes behind him and he leans on the wall next to the door, his tattooed, muscular arms crossing.

Your posture falters for a moment in your confusion and shock before you straighten up with a salute. You certainly weren't expecting Lieutenant Ghost to be here, meaning you must be in more trouble than you thought you might be in.....

"Lieutenant Ghost!" You say, your voice echoing in the silent halls.

His eyes glare down at you harshly, his gaze narrowing further on you as you speak. You hold back a shudder at his increasing glare and keep at attention.

"Corporal 'Magpie', yeah?" He says lowly, his voice almost as harsh as his glare, his hellfire eyes burning a hole through you. You nod quickly at the Lieutenant's question, rain splashing from your soaked hair.

Your nerves begin dying a slow, agonising death as he glares down at you, the contempt in his gaze making a slight sweat drip down your face. You recognise after a moment that he wants a verbal response.

"Yes sir!" You reply loudly, nerves making you lose control of your volume.

Within a blink the man is quietly lunging at you, his hand easily slipping around your throat. The unexpected attack makes a gurgle slip through your trapped throat.

"Be fuckin' quiet, idiot!" He hisses lowly at you, his arm flexing as his hand squeezes lightly. His face looms above your own with a withering look in his eyes.

You nod rapidly, water spattering once again from your hair and soaking the mans arm.

"Now tell me wha' the bloody fuck you're doing here" He demands in a low voice, his hand loosening on your throat, allowing you to speak.

"Col...." You begin with a hoarse voice before coughing quietly into your hand. "Colonel König told me to come here at 2000... I... I don't know the reason, sir..." You continue quietly, looking up at him fearfully.

"I don't like when people lie to me, **lil' bird**" He spits out, squeezing your neck tightly for a moment, causing tears to begin gathering in the corners of your eyes. "König is asleep in there, so ya better stop lying an' tell me the reason a little Corporal like you would be all the way out here, yeah?"

After a moment his grip loosens once more and you try to keep your gasps for air quiet, fearing the man would choke you again if you're too loud.

"I..." You attempt to start, water beginning to slip down your face. "I'm sorry sir... I didn't mean to intrude" You gulp watching as his arm flexes. "The Colonel told me to be here sir... I promise I'm telling the truth!" You say, looking up at him sincerely.

He clearly doesn't like your answer as his hand tightens once more around your throat. He leans down slowly, the plastic of his mask sliding against the side of your face as he whispers in your ear.

"Now tha's a likely story." He scoffs disbelieving, sending a shiver down your spine. "Jus' know, **lil' bird** to stay away from 'im, yeah? I've seen ya followin' 'im around and ya better stop, Otherwise me stranglin' ya will be the least of ya problems." He finishes by holding his hand around your throat until you're light-headed.

Once he notices your eyes beginning to haze over, he unceremoniously lets go. He scoffs as you land in the puddle that had formed beneath you with a splash, not looking back at you once as you gasp for air on the ground.

As you lay gasping on the floor outside the office, you blearily try to think of the reason that Lieutenant Ghost would think that you would be following Colonel König around, but you can't find a reason.

After a few more moments of gasping for breath, you gather the strength to stand, which immediately makes you feel light-headed. Trying to breathe through it you begin hobbling slowly towards the door, hoping to atleast get back to your bunk before you inevitably pass out.

Coming to a stop next to the door, you look through the glass of the door. The thundering storm had luckily slowed to a spattering of rain, the concrete path outside reflecting the nearby lights.

You breathe slowly as you open the door with one hand, the other holding onto the wall to keep yourself standing. The frigid air causes goosebumps to form on your exposed skin and you take a steadying breath before you exit the Operator's quarters.

Before you realise it, you're outside the building where your quarters are. You barely remember the hobbling walk there, but you made it. The metal door is freezing cold to the touch as you open it, straining to open the heavy thing with one hand.

Making your way towards your bunk, you start to feel like you're going to pass out at any moment but you continue none the less. After entering the safety of your bunk the emotions finally hit you and a sob escapes your chest before you can stifle it, your throat throbbing in pain in response.

You slowly make your way to your bed and collapse onto it, more sobs escaping you that you barely attempt to stop. Your vision begins to blur and the last thought you have is hoping the next day would be better....

--------

A dull pounding in your head awakes you and your eyes blink open. Attempting to breathe through the headache, horrible, stabbing pain erupting from your throat reminds you of the reason. Laying still in bed for a moment, you remember Lieutenant Ghost's massive hands around your throat, his blazing brown eyes glaring down at you.

With a painful gulp you remind to avoid both of the Lieutenant's as much as possible, not wanting to encite either of their anger. As you sit up from your bed, a low pain from your back makes you figure that it's bruised from the fall.

You grimace as you stand from the bed, having not changed from your rain-soaked clothes before sleeping. The water had seeped into the bed cover, leaving an imprint behind as you stand.

Walking slowly over to the old cabinet, you look into the small mirror hanging above it and grimace at the sight of your neck. Bringing a hand up, you tenderly trace the massive purple handprint with a finger, wincing as even the light graze of your fingers make it ache.

'Under other circumstances...' You think, tracing the bruise further before shaking your head.

Quickly stripping your clothes and pulling on your underwear you rifle through the cabinet for something to cover the bruise. You find an old turtleneck that you pull on with a wince of pain.

After pulling on the rest of your clothes you peek out of the door for a moment before you exit your bunk and begin you way to the mess hall, keeping an eye out for Colonel König. You stop in your tracks as you spot him in the distance, loitering outside the mess hall and you quickly duck behind the corner as he turns your way.

Deciding to do something else you spot the gym and look in through the door, noticing that there are a lot of people in there. You wonder if you should work out yourself when you notice the Lieutenant pulling weights on a machine in the corner.

His arms strain as he slowly pulls the weight, his black sleeveless hoodie riding up his stomach and showing off his abs as he lowers the weights. A fine blond happy trail leads down beneath his gym shorts and your eyes can't help but follow it down.

You glance away with heat rushing to your cheeks before you look back. His hellfire eyes glare straight into your own and an unexpected molten heat begins forming under your skin.

Backing away from the door you turn and begin rushing away, a thousand flustered thoughts rushing in your mind before you bump into hard flesh. Looking up you see the person you were trying to avoid in the first place.

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 44 - Unlikely Help

Things on your own aren't going well, it's time for a new plan.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Two weeks had passed since Kaido took most of your family from you, and as expected; you were exhausted. Dawn had been calm the first few nights, but you got the feeling she could sense your stress and unease, and it seemed like she was missing her dads. It was hard to get her to sleep, and even harder to get her to stay asleep. She was also learning to roll, which meant you could no longer reliably leave her in one spot without worrying about her rolling away and potentially getting hurt. You'd really been spoiled with all the help you had on the ship, and now you wore dark bags under your eyes and yawned constantly from the strain of taking care of yourself and Dawn on your own with very little resources. You were getting clumsy in your exhaustion, and you were starting to worry about your sanity if you had to keep going on your own like this. You truly thought your crew would be back by now, but each day went by without any sign of a ship on the horizon, and you grew more and more anxious that they were gone for good. Though it might have been for the best that you saw no ships, you didn't have the energy to defend yourself and Dawn if an enemy ship were to land, you were barely making do as it was with your limited energy.

Then there was the food situation which to be frank, was fucking dire. You thought there'd be more big game on the island, given that the majority of it was heavily forested, but you were having trouble finding anything, or perhaps you were just shit at hunting. Either way, all you'd manage to do with Double's rifle was waste bullets trying to snag a rabbit, and take down a single small deer. It was a good thing his ghost had abandoned you, so you didn't have to see the disappointment on his face at your garbage hunting attempts. The jerky you made from the deer using your fruit gave you a small amount of food, but not enough to sustain your breastmilk. You foraged for fruit, but the forest mostly only held berries you weren't familiar with, and you couldn't risk poisoning yourself and leaving Dawn on her own. That left you to rely on the sea.

Using your power to control the waves, which for some reason you'd literally never thought to do until now, you were able to wash schools of fish up on to shore, which you could then grab off the sand as they flopped around, and use your powers, or a fire if you were too tired, to cook them. For the next week you ate nothing but fish and the occasional shellfish, and while it was enough to sustain life, you still found yourself losing body weight at the expense of keeping your breast milk flowing. You knew you couldn't survive like this for long, and with only another week of nappies and wipes left you knew it was time to start thinking about other options.

Option one: you continue living on fish and see if you can hold out long enough for the Kid Pirates to return before your stored fats are entirely depleted. Option two: you take one of the small dinghies left behind, fit it with a makeshift sail and hope you make it to a nearby island. Option three: wait for an enemy ship to show up, steal their transponder, call someone for help. Who could you even call though? You could hideaway until they set sail again, but who knew how long it would take for them to need a resupply; it would take considerable energy to keep yourself and Dawn hidden in the meantime.

You spent the next several days thinking it over, but ultimately your plan was decided for you. It was barely a speck on the horizon, without your exceptional eyesight you wouldn't have even seen it, and they likely hadn't spotted the island either unless they were using a telescope. It was a ship, no doubt, a little smaller than the Victoria Punk, but painted in bright yellows, oranges and reds. You decided to take a risk. You could moonstep close enough to find out what sort of ship it was, and then decide from there what to do - either hide away until they hit land, try to make a deal, or if the crew looked weak perhaps kill them and take the ship for yourself. You weren't sure if you could handle a ship that size on your own, but surely being able to manipulate waves would help. Either way you were getting off this island, so you grabbed your emergency go bag, stuffed a few extra things into it, strapped Dawn to your chest and slung your katana and Double's rifle over your shoulder. There was no need to locate your dagger, it'd been permanently attached to your thigh since Kaido had landed.

You power walked most of the distance to the shore to save your minimal energy, before taking to the air, small pops of air sounding from your feet as you made your way to the ship, until you were close enough to properly identify it and finalise your plans. The ship looked beaten up; there were parts of the railings missing, broken walls, pieces haphazardly mended with scraps. The main sail had one corner missing, seemingly burned away, but the jolly roger was still identifiable. A simple skull and crossbones wearing a straw hat.

You breathed a sigh of relief, these people would help you, you had no doubt. Killer had explained the beef Kid had with them, and it sounded more like Kid just felt bad about being shown up, only his pride had been attacked. In reality they'd fought together, after the Straw Hats had tried to save their mermaid friend and their captain had punched a Celestial Dragon. The newspapers you'd received from the news coos since that weapon broadcast, where Luffy had been caged, had revealed that his crew had been busy, freeing the entire kingdom of Dressrosa from a corrupt Warlord. They weren't the type to murder and pillage, so you felt comfortable with your plan: land aboard their ship, and try to cut a deal.

You didn't have much time to think on how you would cut a deal, knowing your energy was quickly fading and you would only be able to moonstep a little longer, so you swiftly made your way to the derelict looking ship, landing softly on what appeared to be a deck covered in a real living grass lawn. How strange. You'd also seen trees bearing some sort of orange fruit as you approached, perhaps they took their scurvy prevention seriously. There was only some sort of tall skeleton on the deck, as tall as Wire perhaps, sitting on a bench at the base of the main mast. It was dressed quite dapper in a red suit, frilled shirt, and yellow cravat, a top hat balanced precariously atop its afro. You thought at first that it was a decoration, a leftover halloween prop, until it lifted his teacup to its mouth and took a sip. You clamped a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from screaming, knowing it would distress Dawn, taking a heavy breath as you removed your hand cautiously.

“What the fuck,” you gasped, “you're.. alive? What the fuck.”

“Oh I am very much dead, yohohohoho,” the skeleton laughed, putting down his teacup and standing, giving a small bow as he tipped his hat to you, “you may call me Brook, dear lady. What may I call you, and your small passenger?”

Dawn babbled and cooed, trying to grab the visor of your mask as you looked down at her briefly, before turning your attention to Brook, who at least seemed harmless, even if he was a little frightening to look at. “Uh… Yin,” you told him hesitantly, “and this is Dawn.”

“Lovely to meet you, Yin,” Brook replied, then tilted his head like he was trying to look coy, “may I see your panties?”

“Uh, I'm not sure my boyfriends would appreciate that,” you replied with a small laugh. What a strange, strange man.

“Ah, the beautiful mademoiselle has lovers already?” A male voice sighed. A blonde man came down the stairs behind the skeleton, a cigarette in his mouth, his hair covering one eye but the other you could see was framed by a strange curled eyebrow. He was well dressed as well, in a black dress shirt, pants and vest, complete with a red tie. “You break my heart, my beauty. But alas, what brings you aboard our ship?”

“A ROBOT!” another voice yelled, before a flurry of red, yellow and blue was flying at you. Instinctually you put up a wall of air pressure, to protect yourself and Dawn from the projectile, but it was intercepted by the blonde man with a well placed kick. You could see now that the projectile had been none other than the captain himself, Monkey D. Luffy, who barely took a second to recover before he was running at you again, this time stopped by your wall of pressure, which he slammed into hard, seemingly unphased as he gawked at you with his face smooshed against the shield and his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Luffy! What have we told you about throwing yourself at people!” the blonde growled, pulling Luffy by the collar of his red, open vest, though his hands stayed fixed to your bubble, arms stretching unnaturally to accommodate. “The mademoiselle has a baby with her! You could have seriously hurt them!”

“BUT IT'S A ROBOT!” Luffy shouted, still staring at you, “Hey! Join my crew! We have a cyborg too, you guys can be friends!”

“Uh, sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm not a robot,” you explained, “and I already have a crew.”

“And who would they be?” A feminine voice came from behind you. You turned to see a beautiful ginger woman descending the stairs from the forecastle deck, long hair billowing around her very attractive, curvy figure, the purple dress she wore accentuating her waist, trimmed with gold ribbon and floral embroidery. Your breath caught a little at how pretty she was.

“They're- arg,” you felt dizzy all of a sudden. You'd been using your powers this whole time to protect yourself, and you heard the soft pap of Luffy's hands hitting the lawn as your bubble of air pressure was unwillingly released, the lawn suddenly much closer than it should be as you waivered and almost passed out. The blonde was quick to catch you, calling for someone called Chopper as he tried to help you sit.

“May I hold your baby for a moment?” the skeleton asked politely, kneeling in front of you, “while our doctor helps you.” You gave him a tired nod, even that small motion making your head spin. The blonde helped him free Dawn from the wrap, and the skeleton held her carefully as he brought her to his chest. Dawn was entirely unphased by his lack of flesh and instead more enamoured with his cravat, immediately trying to eat it.

“Coming! Coming!” A childlike voice called. Some sort of small, brown, furry creature appeared at your side, wearing a yellow hoodie and a large round hat, blue and pink with a big cross on the front. The antlers peeking out from the hat told you it must be a deer, a zoan fruit user perhaps? Less weird than the skeleton, to be certain, but still strange. “Ah! Where did she come from?”

“There's an island nearby,” the ginger said, “she must have come from there.”

“M-moon step-p,” you forced out in explanation.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Chopper asked, using a cold stethoscope to check your heart and breathing.

“She looked like she was going to pass out,” the blonde said, “exhaustion, I think. She was using some sort of devil fruit.”

“She looks thin, is that her baby?” Chopper asked, pointing to Brook where Dawn was chewing on his boney fingers like a teething toy. Gross. The blonde nodded as Chopper continued his assessment.

“Ma'am, are you breastfeeding currently?” Chopper asked, you gave him a small nod. “Have you been eating enough?” You shook your head, groaning as the motion sent your world spinning again. “I believe she's malnourished. Sanji can you carry her to the infirmary?”

The blonde, Sanji you assumed, seemed to visibly wince at that assessment, before gingerly picking you up bridal style. “Do not worry, mademoiselle. Nobody goes hungry on my watch. Chopper will fix you up, and I'll prepare a delicious and nutritious meal for you!”

The redhead eyed you suspiciously as Sanji carried you away, deciding to take things into her own hands. She knew you had a crew, and you were riddled with weapons, and clearly not a marine. By that assessment, it was easy to see you were a pirate. All she had to do was find your wanted poster and she'd have her answers.

You sat at the dining table in the quaint kitchen of what you learned was called the Thousand Sunny, eating some sort of pesto pasta, fresh bread, potato salad, onigiri and fried, breaded fish. Every dish was delicious, certainly comparable to Killer's cooking, and you ate almost as much as their captain, though it was hard to compete with Luffy. Dawn was now being occupied by another crewmate, a rabbit mink you learned was named Carrot, though she was not technically a Straw Hat. She seemed quite taken with Dawn, who was giggling and babbling enthusiastically at the rabbit as Carrot shook her head to make her ears flop around for the baby's entertainment. You felt considerably better now that you had some proper food and some IV fluids in you, and Chopper had been happy to declare that other than being exhausted and underfed, you were otherwise healthy, as was Dawn who he had insisted on giving a once over.

The ginger, who you learned was named Nami, stormed in, waving a sheet of paper in her hand, slamming it down on the table. “Shockwave Yin!” She declared with a scowl, “what the hell does a Kid Pirate want with us, huh? You here to trick us? Lure us into a trap with your baby? Is she even yours, or just a stolen bait?”

You sniffled a little as you tried to hold back your feelings, before the dam burst under the weight of almost a month alone with your feelings, openly sobbing in front of the Straw Hats much to your embarrassment. Dawn also started to cry, so you did your best to pull yourself together and beckoned for Carrot to hand her to you. “Sorry Dawnie, it's okay, mammas okay baby, shhh shh,” you cooed to her, holding her to your chest while patting her butt in a soothing rhythm until she calmed, sucking on her thumb and looking at you with watery eyes. The Straw Hats looked a little shell-shocked at the outburst, most of all Nami, who could see now that she may have been a little too rough with her unfounded accusations.

“Sorry…” she mumbled, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” you sniffed, using your free arm to push your mask up a little to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket. “Just been a hard month is all.”

“Woah! Cool eyes!” Luffy exclaimed before you replaced your mask. You couldn't help but give him a soft smile at the innocent compliment. It wasn't often someone thought your eyes were ‘cool’, it made you miss Killer and Heat even more, a sharp pang in your heart threatening to have you bursting into tears again.

“Do you want to talk about it, Yin-chan?” Sanji asked sweetly, “Where is your crew?”

“Kaido took them,” you said softly, trying your very best not to cry. “He came out of nowhere, literally dropped from the sky. We were supposed to be celebrating an alliance with the On-Air and Hawkins pirates, but they turned against us. I was only able to hide myself and Dawn because of my devil fruit. We had no chance, we were betrayed. It happened almost a month ago, I haven't seen them since, I've been all alone, just me and Dawnie. The other crews took everything, so I've been living on fish and what little deer I could shoot,”-Chopper looked spooked-”ah, sorry Chopper. Anyway I just… I'm exhausted. Dawn misses her dads and isn't sleeping right and I can't get enough food to keep my milk producing so I've just been withering away. I thought maybe, since you fought alongside my crew once before, that maybe you could take me to the next island so I can get help.”

“Kaido took Jaggy?!” Luffy yelled, shooting up out of his seat, “we're already gonna fight Kaido! We'll help Jaggy too!”

“Luffy, Eustass won't want our help,” Sanji replied, pressing a hand to the excitable captain's shoulder to force him to sit again.

“Eh?” Luffy huffed.

“Sanji is right,” you sighed, “he's stubborn. And after what happened, I doubt he'll ever trust another crew again. You'd just be putting yourself in danger, I have to find him myself. And the rest of my crew, if they're even still alive. You said you're gonna fight Kaido, does that mean you know where he is?”

“Wano!” Luffy exclaimed with a wide smile, “that's where we're going! To find the samurai and help them kill Kaido!”

“Would you take me with you?” You asked hesitantly, “I have nothing to offer you but, I would owe you everything if you let me hitch a ride. I'm sure when I find my captain he could pay you for your help, or at least for my food and board.”

Nami's eyes lit up at the mention of money, and she slapped her palms to the table. “Of course! We're heading there anyway!” Her brain was already crunching the numbers on how much berri she could scam Kid out off.

“Oh, thank you!” You replied gleefully, not expecting a rival crew to be so kind, “Dawn and I really appreciate it!”

“So…” Brook slid onto the bench beside you, “who's Dawn's daddy? I am quite curious, Jaggy-san certainly does not seem like the fatherly type.”

“With that hair, it's gotta be that first mate,” Sanji decided, putting a cigarette in his mouth and going to light it, but remembering Dawn was present and thinking better of it, “with that wild blonde mane of his.”

“Yes and no,” you replied, only adding to the curiosity of the Straw Hats who were now looking intently at you, “Killer is my lover, yes, as is Heat, but neither is her father. She was adopted.”

“Ah, what a romantic story!” Carrot exclaimed.

“Ey, Robot,” Luffy stretched his arm across the table to poke your shoulder, “why do your eyes look like that?”

“I told you Luffy, I'm not a robot,” you frowned, “my devil fruit makes my eyes like that. I can see a lot more colours and hear a lot more sounds than anyone else. The mask helps me not get overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Sanji noted, “your devil fruit doesn't sound very good if you need tech to control it.”

“It's powerful, to be sure,” you sighed, “but it has its downfalls. I spent a long time being out of control and scared of my powers, but don't worry, I have my seastone so I can get myself under control in emergencies.” you pointed to your bracelet, still bearing the Kid Pirate's jolly roger. You sighed sadly at seeing it, the only real reminder you had of your crew right now. But you were on your way, you were going to find them, and when you did there would be hell to pay for all those who betrayed your family. You just had to hold on to the hope that they were even still alive.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

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[thebigbiwolf]

Starvin', Darlin' - Chapter 1

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Astarion knows his power is waning, and seducing their leader Evelyn has gone poorly at best. If he is to keep himself in the tiefling's good graces, he's left with no other options. He must drink from a thinking creature.

Everything goes according to plan... until it doesn't.

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Word Count: 6.1k

Read on Ao3: Here

A/N: I started this as a way to get this fruity fuck out of my head but I think I just made the situation worse. If you know me, no you don't. If you've followed me for a long time, sorry in advance. I may make this a mini-series depending on time and reception, but we'll see! OC is a rogue who seduces men to gain their favor but we'll get to that in later chapters.

Astarion's trance did not come easily that night; his hunger manifesting as a throbbing headache that refused to subside. It had been hours of tossing and turning in his tent, willing his body to settle, forcing himself to ruminate on the past few weeks.

Before he joined this disgustingly merry little group of adventurers, hunting rabbits and the occasional boar had been enough to sustain him. In fact, dining on larger animals had been a significant upgrade from the meager flies and rats he’d become so accustomed to under his master’s rule, but that was before all of this incessant hard labor. 

He could feel his strength waning over the last several days. His senses were dulling, his reflexes numbed. Just this morning, he had failed to gain the upper hand with a particularly nasty kobold. He paid for it dearly when the damned thing all but pummeled him into the ground. 

Luckily, Lae’zel had been there, hammer at the ready to divorce its jaw from its head. Beautifully done, by the way, but his blunder did not go unnoticed. All this sneaking around for barely a nibble during his watch was beginning to take its toll.

Astarion knew he was on thin ice, considering his relationship with their fearless, incomparable leader began with him pulling a knife on her and grappling her to the ground -  in front of the damn wizard, no less. Some friction was to be expected.

But things hadn’t progressed much between the two of them since then. The pair rarely saw eye to eye on anything, and she seemed to have an innate passion for berating him over his unwillingness to stop for every single injured bird or helpless child as they traveled - as if playing the part of a hero was a favorable distraction from the literal time bomb in both their party and their heads. 

“The world is full of potential allies, Astarion,” she had told him, sprinkled with a hint of her usual irritation. “I’m simply expanding our network.” As if a group of starving refugees and mud-slinging tree huggers were going to find them a decent healer any sooner. At this point, he’d heavily considered taking his chances with the goblins. At least they knew how to have fun.

What made matters even more frustrating was that Evelyn was seemingly unaffected by his charms.

Just how exactly was he supposed to secure his place under her protection when the woman barely spared him a second glance? Surely he wasn’t losing his touch. He was a master of seduction. Thousands of others had thrown themselves at his feet for far less effort. He’s had centuries of practice. The mere notion would be ridiculous.

In fact, he couldn’t remember a single moment in the last two hundred years where his advances had been so callously brushed off. Every attempt to make her laugh with his (admittedly morbid) quips was met with her chastising him for being insensitive and making threats to send him back to camp. She dismissed every flirtation, even if her lovely little blush betrayed her. She seemed determined to make him play her little game. He just hasn’t quite figured out what the rules are, yet.

Astarion couldn’t afford to take any more chances. If sleeping his way into her good graces wasn't an option, he was left with little choice. He wanted to make himself indispensable, so he was going to have to take drastic measures to ensure that his strength and physical prowess would never come into question. At least, not again.

He would have to drink from a thinking creature.

The idea of it was as invigorating as it was terrifying. He had spent the last two centuries enduring unimaginable cruelty, starved in ways mortals couldn’t begin to imagine--for years--without any reprieve. 

No, starving doesn’t even scratch the surface. No words could ever describe the tortuous, gnawing, ravenous hunger that consumed his every waking moment under the heavy weight of Cazador’s boot.

Though, Cazador wasn’t here now, was he? 

Curious.

Astarion had spent some time ruminating on who to approach before settling on Evelyn, though his options were limited at best. The githyanki was entirely out of the question; gods forbid he get caught, she would make quick work of him without allowing him so much as a single word of explanation. Shadowheart was…tempting, but that mark on her hand frequently caused her pain, and who knows if that magic would have any affect on him or worse, her taste? And Gale, well, he would rather subsist on a diet of garlic sprinkled with holy water before he put his lips anywhere near that man.

So, Evelyn it was. The tiefling wasn't terrible to look at. She was a younger woman full of vitality, so surely she wouldn’t miss a bit of her blood. He would just have to mind the horns. 

He would be in and out. A quick nibble, then he'd be right as rain. One bite, he tells himself, barely enough to leave a mark. Then, he’ll pass it off and say that they had been attacked by bats during his watch and, not wanting to wake everyone, he quietly dispatched them and saved the day. Unfortunately, not before one of those wretched little beasts managed to puncture their illustrious hero. It was the perfect plan. Infallible. They'll eat it right up.

He continues passing through camp undetected, catlike in his silence, but when he reaches the canvas entrance of her tent ready to pounce, he freezes at the sight of her.

She looked…different while she slept. Softer, gentler, almost; surrounded by a nest of fur blankets, snoozing away instead of attacking his ego. Her hair was puddled beneath her head and horns like dark, red wine; rich and unrestrained by her usual loose bun. 

Another realization hits him: this is the first time Astarion has ever seen her in her sleep clothes, a simple basic black wrapping across her breasts. Practical. Of course.

Her skin is pale enough to rival his own, even with the warmth of the firelight. She’s lying on her side, her uncovered shoulder lightly dusted in freckles, much like her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, and in the silence of the night air, he can hear her light, even breaths.

Cute, he thinks to himself. He could almost forgive her for being so maddeningly aloof with a face like that. Almost. 

Astarion leans over to brush her hair away from her neck; the strands softer than he had anticipated. The thrum of her pulse underneath is magnetic. It pulls at his very being, beckoning him closer.

Settling on his knees beside her, his arms form a cage around her body.

He takes in the image of her form one last time and allows himself a moment to savor it. She is toned and lithe, much like himself, but smaller. Perfect. Delectable. 

He bends closer, feeling her gentle puffs of breath on his shoulder; the warmth of her body. His ears ring with anticipation; manicured nails clench the sheets by her head.

She’s going to be so-

Something brushes his leg, hidden beneath the furs.

Her tail. He forgot about her bloody tail.

Evelyn stirs, and fully awakens right as his teeth are at her throat, eyes meeting his. 

Shit.

“Shit.”

With incredible speed, she reflexively reaches for the dagger closest to her pillow, lunging at him. He just barely seizes her arm in time to save himself from being skewered.

“What in the hells are you-” he clasps his palm over her mouth to silence her.

The girl’s eyes are wild with panic, their golden hues burning a hole in his skull. He notices them flit down to where his body hovers over hers before she begins to struggle against him. “No, no, shh,” he whispers. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” 

Her expression shifts from panicked to confused. She ceases her squirming. Good. Well, not good, but better. He can work with this.

“When I take my hand away, you have to promise not to scream and wake the whole camp,” he continues, hushed, “unless you’d like for them to find us tangled up in your bedroll. You wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression now, would you, darling?”

Her eyes widen. Her face flushes deep red, warming his palm against her skin.

There, he thinks, that should-

Her body turns, and suddenly he feels the hard edge of Evelyn’s knee make contact with the corner of his ribs. A direct hit. Pain shoots up his chest as he rolls off of her and onto his side, clutching himself and coughing, heaving air back into his lungs.

She hurriedly covers herself with her sheets, glaring at him as he struggles to collect his breath. He can see her fuming through the tears forming in the corner of his vision. If looks could kill, he’s sure she would have him skinned alive. Maybe use what's left of him to scare away the crows. 

She’s still holding the knife out toward him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you think you’re doing in here?” 

A fair question, one he was not prepared to answer. Perfect. He’s just going to have to wing this. Possibly with two broken ribs. He can’t believe he expected this to go any smoother.

“I-I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He raises a hand and falls back on his thighs with a grunt, grimacing in pain. His other clutches his side, a bit of sweat forming at his brow. “I just…” 

Okay, this is it. He’s got this.

“I just needed, well,” 

Aaaaand,

“Blood.”

There. Excellent form, Astarion. Good show.

“I - You needed what?”

She blinks at him, whether in disbelief or shock, he cannot say.

It takes a moment before his words start to sink in. She takes that time to scan over his body, purposefully. 

He couldn’t quite tell if she was looking for something or if she was deciding whether or not to believe him, but then again, what other explanation could he give? 

He works over his options in his head, considering just how difficult it would be to pass this all off as a terrible joke, but just as he’s about to open his mouth to start on damage control, he hears Evelyn heave a deep sigh. She lowers her weapon, then tosses it to the side, massaging her eyes in frustration. 

Oh. Well, alright.

After some time, he watches her expression soften into understanding as a few notable things dawn on her. He’s never really eaten any meals with them, has he? Then there was the drained boar, which he so carelessly left out by the road.  The damned beast hadn’t even taken the edge off that night, and he was so desperate to quell the nagging ache in his stomach that it lay there forgotten until she found it the next morning. He admitted to her himself that it had been drained by a vampire, after all…

A bit of silence follows.

Astarion doesn’t say a word, doesn’t dare move a muscle. He just allows her the time to process whatever she’s feeling. What’s important is that he’s still alive, she hasn't run him out of camp, and she hasn’t screamed for help. 

He may be able to salvage this, yet.

She scratches the back of her head, carding her fingers through her hair to ease her irritation before finally meeting his gaze.

“Astarion.” The sound of his name leaving her lips pulls him from his thoughts. He can see the disappointment on her soft features just as plainly as he can feel it humming through their psionic link. 

He didn’t think himself capable of guilt, but there was an emotion akin to it brewing within his chest. Ugh. He breaks eye contact, searching for anything to pull his attention away from his discomfort. The miscellaneous bags of clothing and trinkets she had scattered about her tent were just oh so fascinating. And was that a new hairbrush? Hm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He’s taken aback by her question. He expected a more offensive reaction. A few insults, maybe ones pertaining to his sharp teeth or bloodlust, but an olive branch?

After all the lies, the invasion of privacy, and the failed attempt at assault?

She really is just full of surprises.

“Well, we aren’t exactly close, you and I. Though, you must admit, I’ve made several attempts to…” He waves a hand between them for emphasis, “mend the gap, so to speak.”

“Well, have you ever considered maybe not being such an asshole?”

Ouch.

But in fairness, no.

“I…” He thinks carefully about what to say next. The buzzing behind his eye socket acts as a threat, reminding him of the very fragile barrier between their minds. Should she choose to dig her claws in and pry the information out of him, she may find more than he's comfortable sharing, so Astarion makes a decision that surprises even himself. 

He chooses to be genuine.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He gestures towards the dagger at her side. “But believe me, I’m not some monster. I’ve never killed another person.”

Evelyn raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, not for food,” he quickly corrects. “I’ve been subsisting on animals. Boars—like the one you found the other day—deer, kobolds, whatever I can get my hands on.”

“And what exactly was the plan here? You were just going to kill me and expect the others not to notice?” 

He recoils at the accusation but fights to keep his expression neutral. “I had no intention of killing you. I would never do such a thing.” He leans in closer to her and lowers his voice, as if letting her in on a secret. “We need each other.” 

Evelyn shifts to lean her weight on her arm as she listens, dark hair falling to the side of her shoulder. With the new level of exposure, he can hear her pulse settling into a more comfortable rhythm. 

He swallows. Hard. His hunger is rearing its ugly head again, just at the sound of her.

Oh well, might as well lay all the cards out on the table while we’re at it.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and continues, “As it stands right now, I’m too slow. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” There is a question hidden in his words, a favor to be asked.

She seems pensive as she considers him, mulling over everything he’s said in her mind. She lifts a thumb to her mouth and starts nibbling on her nail, no longer looking at him. Nervous too, no doubt. How could she not be with what he’s asking of her, as if he had any right to ask in the first place? 

“I understand you detest me, but-”

Evelyn appears to snap to some conclusion, sitting up straighter and placing her arms to her sides before she responds.

“No, I should detest you, Astarion, but I don’t. You just don’t impress me.”

Wow.

It feels as though he’s been slapped. He barks out a laugh that’s a bit too loud for the intimate setting, trying to mitigate the damage to his ego. “Excuse me?”

She has the nerve to shrug at him. “I’ve seen every trick you’ve used to fill your little black book, probably a thousand items over. I’ve used them all myself. So, frankly, I'm uninspired.”

For the first time in his undead life, he’s totally speechless. His face contorts in indignation, disbelief. This devil.

There is something dangerous in her expression as she leans further forward, neck tilted, exposing herself to him. Her eyes are hooded, with long lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. Her shoulders relax as she lifts her chin to stare down her nose at him, sneering. 

He works his jaw, clenching the muscles unconsciously.

“Astarion, men are idiots. I’ve spent my entire adult life toying with them and robbing them blind. I’ve heard and seen it all. You really believed a few empty praises and mediocre jokes would have me jumping into bed with you? 

Wha- Mediocre?

He opens his mouth with every intention of retaliating, but Evelyn’s palm unexpectedly rests itself on his calf, and the action stuns him into silence. She begins leisurely dragging her nails up towards his thigh. 

His body responds involuntarily; eagerly, frustratingly, the delicate little motion leaving his skin prickling with excitement. 

She regards his chest, admiring the hard planes of muscle. Then, her attention slowly inches down the toned curve of his abs until, finally, they stop at where his cock hardens disobediently beneath his pants.

“Your pretty face doesn’t detract from the fact that you’re still just a man.”

It finally clicks.

She’s baiting him, attempting to get a rise out of him. 

Hm. Impressive.

Normally, at this point in her little game, he assumes most men would take her flirtations at face value. They would likely mistake this performance as an enthusiastic plea to bed her, but Astarion is not like most men. He sees her little game for what it is and recognizes it with ease because he has spent lifetimes playing it himself.

She leans back, satisfied with her little show, and smirks at him.

“So, you admit I have a pretty face?” He teases, his own smile twisting, becoming more mischievous.

She rolls her eyes, but this time she laughs. It’s a soft sound, genuine.

A pinkish hue crawls up her face and paints the tips of her pointed ears, but he can’t discern if that's supposed to be part of the act or, more likely, an unfortunate side-effect of the living experience. He’s finding it hard not to admire her dedication, regardless. 

Well, that’s quite enough of that. Back to business, then.

“It’s settled,” Astarion clasps his hands together, “I’ll just need to impress you with my more eclectic talents if I am to earn your favor. We can start by gracefully slaughtering a few goblins, depending on how the rest of tonight goes. Which is entirely up to you, of course.”

The tiefling squints at him. “Oh no, if you want something from me, darling, you’re going to have to ask politely. With manners. You have those, don’t you? Familiar with them, at least?”

Under normal circumstances, he would find this amusing; nothing like a little role reversal to spice up the evening. But this feels different, heavier, as if her feigning indifference will alleviate the weight of what he's asking of her.

Fine. He supposes relinquishing a little bit of his pride is a fair price to pay.

He takes a deep breath. "Please." 

"Please, what?" She lifts an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Come on, Astarion. Use your words. I know you’re quite fond of them."

He scoffs at her shamelessness, and for a moment, he honestly considers whether this is worth it, but he can't back out now. He'll make it through this, surely. He's been through worse. 

Through gritted teeth, he barely spits out, "Please, may I drink from you?" 

Gods. He's going to be sick.

"Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?" 

He’s going to fucking kill her.

There is an uncomfortable silence that follows. So many unspoken questions and a rising suspense that makes Evelyn adjust herself uncomfortably where she sits. Astarion is also musing to himself, still wondering how it's all come to this. Why did he choose her, again? Something about her not killing him right away? Death may have been preferable to this, actually, but he is pulled back to reality when she finally speaks up.

“So," she's picking lint off one of her pillows, avoiding his gaze as she asks, "how exactly should we do this?”

Well, it occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know. He understands the mechanics behind it, of course, but how exactly were they supposed to go about this?

Should he tell her that he’s never actually fed from a person before? Would it make her more or less comfortable to know that he’s just as clueless about this as she is? 

No. He decides against it. Astarion has always done best when he’s playing the role of the confident seductor. This should be no different. He’ll just treat this as if he’s bedding a virgin: guide her, take things slow, and she’ll no doubt be begging him for more soon enough. It’ll be easy. All she has to do is behave.

“Lie back and get comfortable.”

He moves himself closer to her, settling at her side as she does what she’s told. The flap of the tent remains open, letting in the faintest amount of warmth and illuminating Evelyn’s features. With such close proximity, he can see the gold flames within her irises flickering and dancing, a genetic trait attributed to some luckier members of her race, and a feature of her’s that Astarion would have never otherwise noticed. 

He can hear her pulse quickening as he closes the space between them, lifting himself a bit to settle above her, once again caging her between his arms. One of his knees parts her legs, and he can tell in the quietness of her tent that she’s struggling to hide her uneven breaths. Her stare is intense, but he can’t read the meaning behind it.

He decides to give her another out, just in case. Better safe than sorry. 

“We don't have to do this, you know,” his voice is composed, as if his body wasn't currently screaming with anticipation. “I appreciate the consideration, regardless.” 

“I’m fine.” Her response is clipped, dismissive. Her face remains stoic though her fingers fidget with the blankets at her sides. She had moved the furs to give him better access to her body. The darkness inside him preens at the concept.

Best get on with it, then.

He leans down and, unable to help himself, takes in the scent of her: woodsmoke and the faintest hint of vanilla, which he had watched her pick up from a merchant in the grove just the other day. “For Gale’s cooking,” she amended, when he gave her a questioning look.

He gives her one more moment to stop him.

She doesn’t.

A bit of pressure on the skin before it snaps and gives way, his fangs finally sinking into her. He can feel Evelyn’s body tense at the sudden intrusion. She hisses through gritted teeth, her arms involuntarily raising at her sides, reaching for him, but she stops herself before she touches him. He wants to tell her it's fine, expected, even, the need to ground herself, but all of his higher thoughts are plunged into complete chaos when he finally registers her taste. 

Every cell in his body awakens.

The iron flavor of her floods his throat and sets his nerves ablaze. Its heat fills, expands, and splits every crack in his self control into deep, cavernous fissures. 

A groan escapes Astarions throat before he has the chance to quell it. Of course it would be like this - drinking from a thinking creature. Drinking from her. He understands now why Cazador forbade this. Before, he had assumed it was a matter of keeping his spawn weak and compliant, but this was entirely different. This was far more than a method of control. The bastard had been withholding ecstasy greater than he’d ever known.

A feeling swells in him, crashing like waves through his veins. Warmth. It invades him and fills every fiber of his being. He wasn’t naive enough to believe his first time wouldn't have some sort of great, emotional impact, but this? 

This was everything. How was he ever supposed to come back from this?

"Agh - Astarion," he barely registers her pathetic little whine through the haze. She finally allows herself to grab onto him, the loose sleeve of his nightshirt tightening in her fist. For purchase, he tells himself with what little is left of his consciousness, practical. That is until he lowers himself fully onto her in an attempt to relieve the strain on his biceps.

With no space left between their bodies, he doesn’t anticipate the blazing heat of her core on his thigh, even through the several layers of clothing. She gasps at the sudden pressure,  fingers twitching, nails digging little crescent shapes into his skin. What surprises him most, though, is when the taste in his mouth melts into a flavor so much sweeter. 

Something primal within him recognizes it instantly; it twists in his gut and sits there heavily, as if the emotion were his own: arousal.

Oh.

She is burning for him.

Good.

After all of that teasing, the woman he’s spent weeks enduring endless lectures from actually does desire him, or at the very least desires his body. Which is just as favorable, in his opinion. It’s just nice to know all his hard work hasn’t gone to waste. 

If she lets him live, he's going to spend every waking moment tormenting her over this. His lips vibrate against her skin as he chuckles to himself, causing some of her blood to run down his chin in hot rivulets, blooming new stains onto her sheets. 

He knows he’s had enough. He means to let go, he truly does, lest he end up draining their groups' only hope of survival. Surely that wouldn't go over well with their companions. Pitchforks, and all that. 

But her whimpering, her heat, coupled with the ferocity of his hunger, all provoke a feeling that has been building beneath the surface which he’s unable to name; it's desperate and possessive, a predator guarding its kill from hungry scavengers. The monster in him casts a dark shadow over his mind as he feeds. His body no longer feels as though it is his own, betraying him; a slave to the demands of his appetite. 

He needs her, needs all of her, and he cannot will himself to stop, too lost in sensation and the sound of her mewling to bow to his higher thinking. 

He mindlessly rocks his weight into her and grunts—a slow, unintentional grind against her mound. The motion comes easy to him, like breathing - instinctual. The blunt edge of his clothed cock drags deliciously through her parted thighs. Evelyn’s breath hitches at the feeling, her squirming beneath him giving him the sickest form of satisfaction, but the animal within him demands her compliance.

His hand gathers her loose hair and pulls, growling, warning her to keep still. She whines at the force, back arching. The other grabs her arm, pinning it down, and tightens, thumb gently stroking against her wrist.

"Astarion,"

She’s no doubt making a mess in her smallclothes as she quivers beneath him, all flushed cheeks and furrowed brows. She may deny it later, but her taste tells him everything he needs to know.

Her body is burning against his cool skin, and her gasps are only spurring him on. He laps at the wound, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat, indulging himself in her. It's too much. 

He feels her pulse weakening, her rhythm slowing.

It isn't enough. 

He's about to latch on to her again, teeth at the ready and blinded by his eagerness, when he suddenly feels a piercing sensation behind his eye - the tadpole, he assumes, writhing in panic. Screeching at him to open himself to it. The discomfort is just enough to pull him back into his body. Then Evelyn's voice invades his mind. 

‘Astarion, enough!’

He disentangles his limbs from hers, practically jumping off of the poor woman. He’s gasping for breath as he comes to his senses, the mix of her blood and his saliva staining his lips pink. It dribbles down his chin. He wipes his face with the back of his knuckles and licks them clean.

But then, the cold realization of what he’s done is thrust upon him like a bucket of iced water, shocking him back to the present. He’s going to need to come up with one hell of an apology to get himself out of this one. Or maybe he should just run? Baldur’s Gate is really only a few weeks travel at most. 

“Shit,” he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Are you alright, dear?"

Evelyn's eyes meet his. Her pupils are blown, almost entirely overtaking the gold of her irises when she glances away from him to assess the damage.

"Gods damn it," she quietly groans and applies pressure to the wound, thankfully finding that it isn't too deep or particularly painful. She tends to it, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from her brow. She searches for a rag as she avoids his concerned stare

A deep purple bruise spreads across her pale skin. Small red droplets trickle down the length of her nape, dampening her black breast band before soaking into it and disappearing entirely. He collects himself, willing his mind to cease its incessant urge to lick the damned liquid from her neck. She is flushed and sweating, unbalanced, panting from exertion as much as her own embarrassment. Her dark hair is a tangled mess from his attention. She looks ravaged. 

It… suits her.

Astarion clears his throat, trying his best not to get caught admiring his handiwork.

She was right about one thing. He was, at least in some respects, just a man... 

“Here,” he insists, grabbing one of the smaller furs and holding it up to her. She takes it from him without acknowledgement.

“I -” He begins, but he’s at a loss for words. What does one say in this situation? ‘My sincerest apologies. I don’t know what came over me! I must have gotten swept up in the moment!’ as if that pitiful excuse would overshadow the fact that he manhandled and almost devoured her.

He wants to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat.

He begins to worry that she really may not forgive him. He fears she'll wake the whole camp, or maybe finally cast him out like the monster he is. He wouldn't blame her. She took a great leap of faith in trusting him with this, and he rutted against her like some horny bugbear. Or worse, a teenager, he sneers.

Evelyn pulls the rabbit skin away from her neck, examining it. The brown hairs are matted and crimson, but the bleeding has stopped. She runs her fingers over the puncture marks, feeling the skin dip slightly where his fangs pierced her. She sighs with resignation, surely thinking about how the others will approach her with a plethora of questions tomorrow morning, face reddening at the idea.

“You could have warned me, you know.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize I was agreeing to…all of that.” 

His heart sinks. 

Of course she thinks it was on purpose. I mean, look at him. He’s all but thrown himself at her since the moment they met. He’s spent this entire time playing the part of the rake. It's only natural she assumes the worst.

“Evelyn, darling,” speaking her name aloud brings her focus back onto him. 

The gravity of it is suffocating, condensing the already small space they shared. The tension pulls at something undefinable within him that he thought was long dead—a sincerity that betrays the character he’s been crafting for as long as he can remember. 

It sways him.

More truths to forgive more transgressions, then. A fair transaction.

“I’ve had this condition for over two centuries, but, truth be told,” he clears his throat again, because ugh this is awful. And why does she have to stare at him like that, with her earnest, wet eyes? “You were my first. I’ve only ever fed on beasts.” 

The implication is there: how could he have known?

His confession takes her by surprise. “You don’t…” she pauses, taking everything that transpired tonight into consideration. He must be giving her a look akin to pleading, because she takes mercy on him and disregards whatever question she was about to ask. 

“Please tell me you didn’t do that to the boar.”

Seriously, a joke?

He barks out a laugh before he can stifle it. Whether it's from the sheer ridiculousness of the question or the disbelief towards her acceptance of it all, he truly doesn’t know.

“No, my dear. Just you, and you were delectable.”

Her expression is difficult to read. She’s not looking at him; refuses to, when she replies, “So then, did it work?”

Astarion moves to stand, peering down at her form. He exhales in relief, feeling as though he is a century younger. His muscles are lax; all the stress has been drained from his body. A novel experience. “Yes, I would say so. I feel stronger. My mind is clear. I feel…happy.”

He adds the last word in an effort to appease her, but it does ring true. His main source of joy since he contracted this affliction has been causing others pain, ripping out throats and such. This feels distinctly different, less exhilarating, but pleasant all the same.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you fight.” 

He acknowledges her, then stretches his back out, extending his arms to the sky with his hands clasping behind his head. The motion pulls the rest of his nightshirt out of his trousers and tugs it upward, exposing the hard edges of his hips. He can’t confirm it, but he swears he sees her eyes flit quickly towards them before making an expeditious retreat.

“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing.” He lifts the flap of her tent to peek outside. No sign of anyone stirring, and the night is still young. Knowing the wildlife in this area, he may still have a chance to sate himself. With his newfound strength, he may even be able to wrangle up a bear. What a feast that would make.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bows his head to her in thanks. 

He’s about to step outside, one foot exits the canvas before the rest of him, when it hits him that he feels…odd, uncomfortable leaving her like this. He can’t place his finger on why. He’s ridden atop many women and left without saying a word.

But, he supposes this is dissimilar.

Evelyn listened to him tonight, heard him out when anyone else would have carved him into pieces without second thought. She let him drink from her, forgave him for getting…carried away. 

The most shocking part of it all is that regardless of her dismissiveness, he now undeniably knows that she’s attracted to him. Yet, she didn’t capitalize on the opportunity when it arose to take advantage of his altered state; of his needs. With that, she’s shown him more kindness in the last hour than he’s experienced in his entire undead life. 

He likely owes her for this, of course, but there are worse fates he could endure.

The elf looks over his shoulder at her and catches her watching him intently, as if she wants to continue this conversation but can’t quite figure out what she wants to say. The intensity of her gaze almost forces him to turn back towards her, drawn to her by an unfamiliar ache; a thrill in his spine, the compulsion pulling at his chest like some sort of spell.

“This is a gift, you know.” The words escape him, hanging in the air between them with raw authenticity. He means to make himself sound more frivolous, but before he can edit them in his head, more truth spills from his lips, “I won’t forget it.”

His throat tightens. He considers her for a moment, wondering what he might find if he does turn to meet her eyes.

But, Astarion resists.

She must be exhausted. He shouldn’t take up any more of her time.

He leaves before she can respond. There wasn’t anything left for them to discuss, and he’s desperate to break free from the uneasy weight of her presence.

The second he steps fully outside, he feels as though he can breathe again, not that he needs to, being undead and all. 

What a strange feeling, that was. 

One he decides he’d rather forget. Best to not burden himself too much with it.

The taste of her lingers on his teeth. He finds himself savoring it for a moment too long before stalking towards the forest, confident. Ready to hunt. 

[flowers-for-the-grave]

Calm Before The Storm

There were no more Yellows now. Which as a result meant no more mercy, or grace periods. No one would show kindness anymore, not when the entire world was against you. Allies would only be standing in your way. Hindrances to success.

Scott stood at the diving board, staring out upon the server. He could see everyone beginning to head back to their bases clearly. His fingers itched, the way they always did when he was Red, slowly finding his bow and holding it up. An arrow was nocked, aimed and ready for someone's head. He didn't know whose head. It didn't matter in the end. They were all just heads on bodies waiting to be chopped off.

Shaking himself out of it, he lowered his bow and put the arrow back in its quiver.

Gem was sat on the floor with her sword in her lap. A strand of hair fell over her eyes and she hastily brushed it away. She stared at her reflection in the sword, a frown tugging at her lips, tilting it this way and that presumably to find a noticeable change.

Everyone felt different as a Red.

No one knew how. There were no physical differences to before, no changes in demeanour or personality. A player didn't instantly grow cold and calculated with an intense thirst for blood. The bloodlust was always inside of them. It just never arose as a Green or a Yellow. It simmered in their stomachs on a low heat, only to have the temperature rocket up and the pot overflow, teeming with the urge to kill. The need to have blood on your fingers. To feel the weight of a weapon in your hands, or to hold the lever to set off a TNT trap.

Many tried to look for a difference. It was quite common for players unfamiliar with the game to do so. They always believed there to be something wrong with them physically, and resorted to searching for changes in what little time they had on their hands.

They never found anything, sadly, but no one did.

"Gem," Scott began, walking over to her. She lifted her eyes to his for a moment, then looked back down at her sword. "Gem." he repeated, firmer. She paid him no mind. Apparently a reflection was more important than her teammate.

Impulse stepped out of his house and sat next to Gem. He stretched his arms and placed his palms in the grass, running his hands through the blades. Like many other players, his hands were riddled with scars, burns, blisters and callouses. "What's up?"

"That's the problem," Scott replied. "Nothing. Nothing is happening."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Impulse asked. "I mean, that means we have time to prepare for an attack, or a trap." He nudged Gem with his arm playfully. "Right Gem?"

She didn't respond.

Scott leaned in a little closer and sighed. Her eyes had glazed over. Again.

"Third time today." he grumbled.

Standing up, Impulse bent down to scoop Gem up into his arms and made a start for the gate. He gestured with his head for Scott to follow, and follow he did. He opened the gate for Impulse, and the two of them descended down the stairs and walked past the Secret Keeper statue. The mere sight of it was enough to send shivers down Scott's spine and make him want to run.

They stopped by Cleo's first. Unsurprisingly, Etho was there too.

"What is it?" Cleo asked. She whispered something in Etho's ear and he nodded, scurrying off quickly.

Once his receding footsteps were out of earshot, Scott answered. "It's happening again. I'm gathering some of the players."

She nodded, gradually understanding. "Alright, just give me a moment to grab my things." she disappeared.

Scott stood there, impatiently tapping his foot until Etho arrived with Grian in tow. Both of them were holding bundles of blankets with some snacks thrown in there for good measure. Grian yawned, attempting to rub his eyes.

Cleo reemerged a short while later with more snacks and some water.

The group left and headed towards Pearl's, where Scott broke off from the group to retrieve an additional guest. Before he could even knock on the door, Martyn was outside with all his stuff, a small smile on his face.

"Cleo messaged me," he explained. Scott walked alongside him back to Pearl's, where everyone was sat waiting. Some of them weren't able to join them, so it wasn't quite as full a group as usual, but it was still something.

He took some of the blankets from Martyn and laid them out on the floor. Everyone else did the same, then sat down.

Gem was the last one to sit. Impulse had to guide her to an available spot and gently lower her until she was perched on the edge. Her eyes were still glazed, but a fraction of light and normalcy was returning to them already.

Scott sat down beside Impulse, with Martyn's head in his lap. He absent-mindedly twirled strands of Martyn's hair whilst humming a small tune. He couldn't recall where he'd heard it; perhaps in passing, in the space between the games, or maybe it had been playing when he was in a different server. It sounded similar to a drinking song, so maybe it had been from Pirates.

"Now what?" Grian asked. He perched himself far from the others, but close enough to Cleo and Etho to reach them in case of an unfortunate event. His gaze was on Gem, his eyes narrowing mildly.

Etho chimed in. "We hang out. Eat. Talk. And we wait for Gem to come back."

Cleo nodded in agreement, a small smile curling at her lips. Her hand met Etho's, and their fingers entwined.

---

It took a while for Gem to come back fully. She'd return in brief fits, then leave soon after. It was like flicking a switch on and off repeatedly, only more stressful and each wait seemed to stretch on for eternity.

But once she started to ground herself, it became easier.

Her thoughts were a swirling mass of death, flashes of red every time she shut her eyes. Something was wrong with her. Something had changed, but what? What had changed so drastically about her?

She looked the same. Felt the same. Even tasted the same, which she tested herself (although maybe she did taste different and simply didn't notice.)

But something about her must have been wrong.

She was wrong. A freak. A creature of her own design or maybe someone else's.

Whenever she came to, she was surrounded by people. Impulse's hand on her knee, fingers tapping along to a rhythm. Scott humming a tune, playing with Martyn's hair, his hums occasionally turning into snippets of song lyrics. Cleo and Etho holding hands and smiling, Etho's head on cleo's shoulder, eyes shut in contentment. Grian watching warily. Pearl next to him with a calming hand on his shoulder.

A pang struck her heart when she came to.

They were all here for her. They'd dropped whatever they were doing, for her.

She was important to them.

Gem fell back again into that whirlpool of thoughts. They swirled viciously in her mind, growling and barking and biting like a pack of rabid wolves. Their fur was the colour of blood, and Their eyes were pools of purple. A strange black liquid oozed from Their fangs and dripped onto the ground. They approached from all sides, closing in slowly, leaving Gem less and less time to escape.

Panic bubbled in her chest and she balled the clumps of her shirt in her hands, trying to remember how to breathe.

"You're okay," Impulse's voice whispered in her mind. Was she? She didn't feel like it. "I've got you."

She almost laughed at the thought. He didn't. Not only because she was here and he was out there but also because no one could ever truly have Gem secure in their company. There was always that thin line, that tightrope of danger she was obliged to walk on. One misstep and she fell back into that world of blood, wolves and that rising sense of fear.

"Gem, we're here for you. Take your time." Cleo.

"You've got this," was a half-hearted encouragement from Martyn. He yelped, grumbled under his breath, then hastily added, "I believe in you!"

A hand gently squeezed her kneecap. She saw it, saw the hand, but not the hand at the same time. It flickered in and out of physicality, not wanting to be there for too long. Then it settled into reality with a firm determination.

Something else appeared, too. A shaky apparition, a figure bathed in sunlight. His wings were folded against his back, his red sweater worn and fraying. There was a scar on his temple, and a bruise on his cheek. A second appeared closer to her, gently illuminated by small floating stars, his pointed ears sharp and alert. Then came another, in a cloak of woven moonlight, a toothy smile revealing her elongated canines.

Then finally came one surrounded by a thick outline of red. There was a pendant around his neck of a hand grasping an hourglass.

They all smiled kindly at her, their faces coming into visibility slowly. Everything unnatural about them faded away until they were simply Grian, Scott, Pearl and Martyn, all still in their respective positions.

"Welcome back," Etho greeted.

Scott exhaled in relief, his hand falling to his side. Martyn frowned at its absence, sitting up properly. His hand crept into Scott's lap and rested on his thigh. A grin curled at Scott's lips.

Gem leaned into Impulse. "I'm tired." she whispered, not trusting her voice enough to raise it much more. Still, her words carried across to the others and a blanket was tossed her way. She caught it easily - surprisingly enough, but that must've been a good thing if her reflexes were already coming back - and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"G'night," Martyn said, letting gravity push him backwards. Scott fell with him, letting out a displeased noise when his back hit the ground. "Let's all have a five minute grace period before killing each other, yeah?"

They all mumbled their assent.

Gem and Impulse lay down, close but not touching. She couldn't touch him just yet; her body still didn't quite feel as it should. But when it did, she'd hug him.

Until then, she'd have to rest.

A Red Life was many things; vicious, unforgiving, spiteful, vengeful.

But they were also kind, gentle and merciful when the time called for it.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Red Stained Relationship

Prologue i

Slight yandere! Blade x fem! Reader

Warnings: Implied past child and domestic abuse, twisted sense of ‘love,’ toxic relationship(s), blood, character death.

Blade didn’t abuse the reader btw. He just sucks at anything that is healthy.

Blog contains dark content/dead dove don’t eat.

You'll see why I added "slight yandere' as the series goes on.

Minors/blank blogs dni.

Word count: 684

===

“To kill something is to love it, and to love something is to kill it.”

It was your parents’ favorite saying; behind the jaded eyes and sloppy love they would give. And, of course, you never understood it. Never wanted to, even as a young child, simply nodding your head away whenever they would tuck you into bed at night, kissing your forehead before repeating these words to each other the moment they closed your door.

While you were curious, you never bothered to understand them. They felt alien. You felt alien, an outsider looking in. You couldn’t return your parents’ love as is – your love language was different. Less violent. Less confusing. And more gentle, as gentle as a child could get.

The foundation of your very family was unsteady at best and broken at worse. Even your brother would agree, comforting you on nights that were just a little too noisy. And you would return the favor, perhaps in a less effective way, but all the same. And the cycle would repeat, some days noisier than the others, a mess to be cleaned up. And on others, it almost felt normal.

Almost.

But now, as the dying man rests his head on your lap, you think you get the gest of their oh so favorite saying.

Even so, you still don’t want to hurt him. His blood was staining your dress, and you feel the warmness of it. His breaths were labored, chest slowly moving up and down. There’s blood running down his face, with stab wounds decorating his entire body. But he doesn’t let out any painful whines, barely lets out a grunt.

His wounds weren’t healing. As gruesome as they could be, the wounds stay open. You could attempt to put pressure on them. Especially the gaping one on his chest. You rake your fingers through his hair instead. A small comfort, and maybe even a small celebration. He was the only one happy about it, though.

“You should rest. Close your eyes and everything will be over.” You’re surprised at how steady your voice is. Like you weren’t breaking apart from the inside, cracking like glass. You feel like crying, but nothing comes out. Not even a sob.

“I… I’ve been waiting for this day,” Blade coughs out, wheezing after it. Shakily, one of his arms raises, knuckles grazing your cheek. His vision must be hazy, for when you move his hair out of his face, his eyes are dazed. Unfocused.

“It must be a good day for you then.”

“It… it is. But – fuck – a horrible one for you.” Another coughing fit, but he doesn’t retreat his hand.

“You shouldn’t talk too much. I know it hurts. So, rest.” Blade doesn’t say anything but struggles to keep his hand in the air. His glove prevents him from feeling your skin. And in his mind, it’s probably better this way. Otherwise, he might have second thoughts.

And it’s too late for that.

“… I know that I shouldn’t love you, and that you were a horrible person. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you, actually. But even so…,” your eyes start to water the more you take everything in. He’s really going to die.

“Yeah… I was… horrible to you. I… I wanted to treat you… nicely. Gently. But I’m no longer… capable of that.” He wheezes out, taking gulps of air. “I’m surprised you stayed…,” he trails off, death knocking at the door louder than before.

He wishes he treated you better. That the bloodlust he had towards you didn’t exist. Maybe then, you could have been happier. No. he should have left the moment he felt something deeper, addicting developed for you.

You close your eyes before covering his own with your hand. Any more of this and you really might cry. Or call for help, something he wouldn’t want. Should you kill him, or let him die on his own?

Even as horrible as he is, you still loved him. Common sense had long gone away the moment you accepted him as is.

“Goodnight, Yingxing.”

[rshoumon]

Akutagawa x gn! ada! reader

TW: description of blood, violence but nothing explicit

a/n: i LOVE the trope of potential lovers starting on opposite sides yet slowly growing accustomed to one another. i may make this a series?? or just keep it a one-shot lol.

The lingering feeling of bloodlust lay thick in the air, though from where you stood, you were incapable of pointing out its origin.

The scenery around you was obscured by shadows, the view sending chills down your spine, shaking you to your very core. As a new member of the Armed Detective Agency, you should have expected to be thrown into situations such as this, however it was only now, with the impending feeling of doom hovering over you, that you understood how much you overestimated your abilities.

Your first mission was to search an abandoned warehouse for leads that would help lead to the capture of illegal trades between small-scale gangs. The warehouse was supposed to be empty by the time you’d gotten there, however there was something in the air that begged to say otherwise.

You continued your survey of the area, silently noting the broken crates around you. There was undoubtedly some sort of conflict that broke out between the individuals that made the deal. There wasn’t a body to see in sight, but patches of blood decorated the floor in an ungracious work of abstract art.

The stench in the warehouse was enough to urge your insides to churn. You did what you could to hold yourself together and not make a break for it while you still had the chance. You refused to walk out on your first solo mission. It wouldn’t leave a good taste in your mouth no matter the case.

You continued forward, searching for any form of identification of these dealers that you could bring back to the agency. Anything.

It was as you approached the back entrance of the warehouse that you finally realized the true danger you’d walked into.

From around the final crate which so happened to be intact, you caught sight of a face that Kunikida, Atsushi, and the remainder of the Armed Detective Agency warned you against encountering under any circumstances.

Raven black locks that faded into a dreary white framed the pale features of a young man who stared at the pile of bodies that were laid out before him. All of them were dead.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to try and silence the whimper that threatened to make itself known, however the action only seemed to notify the man of your presence.

“Who’s there?” He called out, his voice raspy before being followed by a harsh cough. “If you do not show yourself, I ensure you I’ll find you myself. Whether it be alive or dead … is your choice.”

You couldn’t help the impulsive gulp of air you’d taken, the beating of your heart now painfully obvious in its efforts to leap out of your chest. Deciding that you’d rather not get skewered the moment you were found, you made your way out from your hiding spot with your hands raised over your head.

“I’m not here to fight.“ You whispered, any attempt to keep your voice stern now lost in the wind.

He raised a thin brow at your statement, carefully observing your person to ensure that you came unarmed. You could feel the way his eyes ran over you, like a predator gazing at its prey, the act alone froze you from taking any other steps.

“I was here to investigate the dealings made between the two gangs that were scheduled to meet here.“

A scoff was all that you were met with.

“Well as you can see, you’re too late.” Akutagawa motioned his head towards the pile of dead bodies a few yards away from you. “I’d rid the streets of Yokohama of yet another pack of rats. What reason do I have of not adding you to the list?”

His words were sharp, rolling off the tongue with ease yet not without a sense of malice.

“I — I’m not here to fight, like I said.” You began, barely capable of keeping yourself standing as your legs shook with fear. The sight seemed to only further anger the man before you. “I’m here under the orders of the Agency, nothing more.”

“The Agency? What a joke. Getting rid of you would benefit the Port Mafia from yet another pest from snooping into our business. Are you certain you want those to be your last words?”

A red beam of light formed from behind Akutagawa’s figure, outlining a black beast-like creature that lay behind him. It’s voice was nothing more than a low growl, yet it sounded like nothing that was of this world. A demon.

As you prepared to make a break for it, you caught the sight of a sniper from the corner of your eye from the rooftop, with their gun pointed straight towards Akutagawa.

Despite the fact that the black-clad male tried to kill you moments before … you remembered a conversation between Atsushi and yourself moments after you were warned of the danger Akutagawa posed to the agency.

“I know we told you about Akutagawa earlier … and I won’t retract my statement in the slightest.” Atsushi stood strong concerning his stance on the horrible acts Akutagawa committed in the past, yet there was something in his eye that shone with something … you couldn’t quite put into words.

“However, I’m not going to say he’s some irredeemable guy either. He helped me safe Yokohama from the Guild, albeit unwillingly. I think there’s potential in him. To … become something more.”

You haven’t been able to get his words out of your head since you’d first laid eyes upon the man, however you were able to come to one conclusion and the underlying meaning of Atsushi’s words.

Though you weren’t capable of dealing any damage to him, Atsushi didn’t wish for his rival to meet his end.

That sentiment must have been why you activated your ability when you did, a sense of determination washing over you all at once.

“You Reap What You Sow!” You cried out.

Particles of light formed around the bullet shot towards Akutagawa, stopping it in its tracks completely before being flung back towards the sniper who made the initial shot. You’d reflected the bullet at an angle where it wouldn’t hit them in any vital spot, however it was enough to incapacitate their ability to shoot.

Of course, despite your act being in defense of the mafioso, he seemed none too happy with the display.

“I didn’t need your help.” He hissed.

With the blood rushing through you from the most recent events and your assumed success, you couldn’t find it in yourself to lie over and take his ungrateful behavior. You’d just saved him after all.

“I never needed your permission.” You snapped back haughtily, your gaze returning to meet his in a silent clash of wits.

Both of you continued your silent stare down until Akutagawa clicked his tongue. The sound of a gunshot rang through the air, however unlike before, this bullet was aimed towards you.

In a manner mirroring the events before, Rashoumon had extended out in front of you, stopping the bullet in its tracks before falling aimlessly onto the floor. You were able to catch a glimpse of the sniper positioned back on the rooftop, though his posture seemed much sloppier than before.

“You should have killed him.” Akutagawa stated simply, before carefully making his way towards the sniper’s position, not sparing a single glance in your direction.

“You should leave, before this little grace period finally comes to an end.”

Your first encounter with the mafioso was unprecedented … however at the very least, you could understand Atsushi’s sentiment towards the man, even if only just a little.

a/n: one small note concerning y/n’s ability, “You Reap What You Sow” is purely defensive, reflecting any attack back towards the one who initiated the attack in the first place.

[owlseeyoulaterpal]

Like Real People Do, Chapter 7

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav x Astarion Ancunín

Chapter Synopsis: Seraphina spends the night of the party with Astarion and does some introspection.

NSFW | 18+

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Four and a Half. Chapter Five. Chapter Six.

Read on ao3.

Word Count: 2.8k

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Chapter Seven: Eyes Always Seeking

“Seraphina!”

The sorcerer turned her head. Alfira was hopping and waving her hand at her. 

Oh gods she thought as she sipped her wine and walked over towards her, Lakrissa, and Astarion. She enjoyed Alfira, but being summoned over near Astarion’s tent right after speaking with Gale so honestly made her stomach churn. She didn’t know if it would be possible to have such an open conversation with Astarion and get a sense of how he felt about what this was between them.

“Hello, loves. Do you mind if I steal him for a bit?” Seraphina asked. 

“Go ahead but promise me you’ll help me with the song I’m writing about you!” Alfira exclaimed. 

“Write a song about our people, Alfira. But yes, I’ll come help you soon,” Seraphina smiled, squeezing Alfira’s arm as Lakrissa dragged her away.

“My savior,” Astarion sighed dramatically, looping an arm around her waist and yanking her close, their bodies pressed against each other. “I thought you were going to let me perish under the weight of all this praise and adoration.”

“Could never let that happen.”

He took a sip of his wine and leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear.

“It would be such an unsatisfying way to die. I’d much prefer a little death with you tonight,” he whispered. 

“Is that right?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what you want? Or am I the delusional one for thinking of our last night together ceaselessly?” His hand on her waist began to stroke up and down her torso, his fingers brushing against the side of her breast.

Seraphina giggled and pressed her forehead to his chest. 

“No. I’ve thought about it too,” she confessed. For a moment, he didn’t respond. She heard a quiet clink as he sat down his glass and his other hand pushed up against her chin, forcing her eyes up. He was smirking down at her.

“Then let’s get out of our heads and experience each other’s full portfolio of talents again,” he purred. “Though honestly, I was beginning to get worried the wizard had swooped in and stolen your affections for the night.”

“Worried? And why would that be?”

“I’d prefer for him to continue sticking his nose in books rather than between your legs. I quite like that spot,” Astarion said, his thumb gliding along the edges of her lips.

“Do you now?” she teased.

“Yes. Now, you will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?” Astarion asked directly.

“Hmm…maybe. I don’t think I’ve made my mind up yet about where I’ll spend my night,” Seraphina hummed, twisting her lips as if she was in deep in thought.

“Ah, you need to be seduced. Let me see,” Astarion pulled away from her and straightened his posture, pushing his shoulders back. “All these accolades from the refugees are nothing compared to the sound of my name cried from your lips.”

Seraphina sputtered and placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles.

“You can do better than that,” she said, raising an eyebrow and straightening her lips in mock disapproval. Astarion smirked at the challenge.

“Your perfect body is the embodiment of temptation. Tymora herself must have made you just to ruin me,” he orated dramatically. 

“You’re actually quite silly, Astarion,” she laughed.

“Still not good enough? Then how about three words? Everyone’s favorite,” Astarion’s smirk slowly fell.

“I love you.”

Seraphina’s chest tightened. The world was spinning, but not from the wine. She hadn’t heard those words from someone who wasn’t her family in months. What was she doing? In all the lovers she’d had, she’d never been with someone like Astarion. He was brash, selfish, and morally bankrupt. Her attempts to temper his urges towards power and bloodlust and his efforts to pull her away from altruism and modesty had become a tug-of-war. 

How was she supposed to reconcile that harsh reality with how he made her laugh and the ways he made her heart race, like right now? Or with all the instances so far that he’d saved her life in combat? Or the connection she felt when they talked and he let her in, even the smallest bit? He reminded somewhat her of Awe, the ice mage who had been a whirlwind of a distraction from Vadan a few months ago. Maybe it was time to admit she had a type – people she definitely shouldn’t be with.

She snapped out of it and met Astarion’s concerned gaze, probably wondering if he’d taken it too far.

Seraphina smiled to hide her unease.

“Having fun, are you?”

A gentle smile spread on his face.

“It’s hard not to with you,” Astarion said softly.

Her heart soared.

“I’ll find you later,” Seraphina whispered. She turned on her heel before he could respond and let her feet carry her over to Alfira, Lakrissa, Cal, and Zevlor. She let the children swing around her in dance. She let Alfira sing, sing, and sing. 

Anything to keep from hearing Astarion’s beautiful lie over and over again in her head.

x x x

When the chatter died down, the bottles of wine ran dry, and the campfire began to turn to embers, Seraphina felt anything but tired. Their guests in camp laid out their bedrolls and the members of their party began to retreat to their tents. The cleric was idly kneeling by her tent, as if she was soon going to retire to bed soon, when she made eye contact with Astarion. He winked at her and crooked his finger, urging her to come over, as he crawled inside of his own tent.

She quickly did a scan of camp and all the tired eyes around her had a singular focus that was not at all where she was going to spend her night. Gale had turned in some time ago. 

Seraphina quickly and, as discreetly as possible, scrambled across camp and slipped into Astarion’s tent. Save for two candles providing a small halo of light, it was incredibly dark inside. The earthy, musky scent of camp was replaced by the subtle perfume of bergamot and brandy – Astarion’s scent that she had come to enjoy.

The one that she sought out was lying on his bedroll, propped up on his elbows, his back surrounded by a semicircle of plush pillows, only wearing his pants with the pearlescent skin of his sculpted torso and defined arms bathed in dim golden light. Her eyes traced the muscles of his abdomen up to his wide chest, to his pouty lips, and finally landing on his crimson eyes, half-lidded and unabashedly hungry – in more ways than one.

“There you are,” Astarion said. Seraphina smiled at him as she clasped the tent flaps shut.

“Get over here. I’ve been waiting all night,” he continued, sitting up and grabbing her hips. He pulled the tiefling into his lap, squeezing her ass as she straddled him.

“You think I haven’t been?” she said as her hands traced a path from his neck, over his chest, and down his front. One of his hands grabbed her hair and pulled her lips down to his, Astarion grunting in satisfaction as Seraphina rolled her hips.

“You seemed content with spending the rest of the night singing songs around the campfire. You could’ve been in here hours ago singing my name instead,” Astarion breathed as he began to kiss down her neck. He stopped in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply, letting out a sigh as he exhaled.

“Feed,” Seraphina said, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other beginning to unlace his trousers. He wiggled slightly while she pulled down his pants just enough to free his half-hard length. Once he settled, Astarion licked over Seraphina’s pulse point before he bit down. 

Seraphina moaned as the familiar mix of pain and pleasure filled her as he began to drink. She spit into her hand before reaching down and beginning to slowly stroke his cock, forcing a gurgled moan out of Astarion as he continued to feed. Hearing the sweet sound from him was enough to make her clench around nothing, desperation for him to be inside her already starting to sink in. 

She moved her hand faster, and his hips began to rock, pumping into her hand. He pulled away from her neck with a gasp, licking and kissing over the bite marks. 

“I can smell you, you know,” Astarion whispered, his hand moving from her ass to cup her sex. Seraphina whined as the ball of his hand rubbed her clit through her pants.

“I can smell how badly you want it,” he went on, his head dipping down to her chest. His tongue licked over the ridges and bumps that went across her collarbone and between her breasts. He hissed and his hips jerked as she continued stroking him. Astarion grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop, before he pulled her shirt from her trousers, peeling it off her skin, and tossing it somewhere in the tent before diving back to her chest, his lips now firmly suckling one of her nipples while one hand groped at her other breast.

“I don’t want it. I want you,” Seraphina moaned, throwing her head back. 

“They’re one in the same, darling.”

She leaned away from him and Astarion continued sucking at her breast, arching his back until he finally let go with a ‘pop.’ She smiled devilishly at him as she crawled backwards on her knees before settling on her stomach between his legs. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

Seraphina said nothing as she reached out and gently gripped the base of his cock. He let out a small breath and his eyes followed her every movement. She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on his, as she slowly licked the underside of his shaft from base to tip, a hiss escaping from his lips again. 

Her tongue swirled around his tip, licking through the slit, before going down the side and licking another long stripe. Astarion’s breaths turned into pants as Seraphina’s teasing went on, licking and swirling her tongue but never closing her lips around his cock.

“Seraphina, you beautiful minx,” Astarion panted, his hands tangling in her hair. She smirked at him before she opened her mouth wide and took his cock into her mouth. He moaned as she began to move, but then she saw a flash of mischief in his eyes. He smirked at her now as he flipped his hands, palms up, and his fingers wrapped around the base of her horns.

Carefully, Astarion began to move her head up and down his cock, his eyes trained on hers. She let out a moan as he pulled her all the way down, the tip of him nearly reaching the back of her throat. She let her neck go limp, fully giving him control. 

“Darling, your mouth…ah,” Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed, and his face twisted in pleasure, his mouth falling open as he continued to move her head, now thrusting into her mouth to meet her halfway.

Seraphina whined, all the sounds from him making her wetter. He thrusted one final time, making her gag. Slowly, he pulled out of her mouth, his hands falling from her horns to grab her waist, pulling her up into his lap.

“You sweet thing,” Astarion breathed, cupping her face and kissing her. His passion and fervor left her panting and moaning into his mouth, as he moved her legs to remove her pants and smallclothes, leaving her bare in his lap. A finger dipped into her folds, making Seraphina gasp as he carefully stroked around her hole and clit. 

“Astarion,” Seraphina moaned.

“What is it, darling?”

“Please put it in. Give me something, anything.”

“Louder.”

“There are people sleeping ou –”

“I don’t care.”

One finger slid in. His thumb started circling her clit. The finger, agonizingly slowly, pumping in and out.

“If you want more, say it louder,” Astarion growled, kissing and sucking at her neck.

Seraphina’s head was fuzzy, her panting and whining already too loud as she desperately grasped at Astarion’s shoulders. She was too far gone with her inhibitions lowered, courtesy of the wine. She tilted her head back and moaned loudly.

“Astarion!”

A second finger entered her. She looked at him, only to see a wicked grin. He wound her up as easily as he picked a lock.

“I didn’t expect you to do it, but you keep surprising me,” Astarion nuzzled her neck as she started to ride his hand. “May I?”

“Yes.”

His teeth sunk into her. His fingers moved faster; the rhythm set by her moans. Whenever she bit back a moan or a whine, his movements would cease. When she cried out his name, surely loud enough that people sleeping close to Astarion’s tent would hear, he would reward her with quicker, deeper strokes.

In this moment, pleasure hummed through Seraphina’s body as much as magic did. When she came undone on Astarion’s fingers, he unlatched his mouth from her, licked her blood from his lips, and kissed her. She could taste the iron of her blood, but all she could think of was how she never wanted this to end.

He flipped them over, putting her head into the pile of pillows, before turning her pliant body over onto her stomach, his hands pulling her onto her knees and elbows. She was still whining from reaching her peak as he removed his pants and she felt his hands return to her hips, stroking and squeezing at the skin, still bruised and battered from the battle.

Seraphina gasped as Astarion’s cold, wet tongue licked from her clit to her hole. She arched her back and pushed back onto his face as he continued to lap, suck, and kiss at her core. His tongue fucked her in a cycle that made her see stars – circling her clit until she was close to her climax, only to flit away to stroke at her walls and then back again.

His reciprocal moans sent vibrations through her core that finally tipped her over the edge. She grinded against his face as she rode out her climax, Astarion’s grip on her hips keeping her up in the air as her legs weakened.

“Please fuck me. Gods, I need it,” Seraphina moaned. She felt Astarion pull away and she could hear the smug grin on his face when he spoke.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He pushed himself inside her and the sounds of their skin and moans filled the tent. Seraphina clutched at the pillows, holding on to anything to keep herself up against the force of Astarion’s thrusts. She tilted her head slightly to look back at him and her whining paused. 

She saw it again. The look on Astarion’s face that she had only glimpsed last time. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused, as if he was looking at her without really seeing or thinking about her or this moment at all. 

“Astarion,” Seraphina whispered breathlessly.

He blinked and it was like he came back to himself as his thrusts slowed. 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Astarion panted. 

Seraphina gently pushed him away and turned onto her back. She spread her legs and reached for him, pulling him on top of her. His sweat-slick chest pressed against hers, the undead cold of his body cooling the heat radiating off her. He looked perplexed as she wrapped her legs around his hips, not pushing him inside quite yet, while her hands softly carded through his hair. It took a few moments, but eventually he sighed, closing his eyes, as her fingers massaged his scalp, traced over the points of his ears, and settled on his cheeks.

Seraphina gazed into his eyes, trying to decipher what secrets he held in that beautiful head of his. She looked at the creases that framed his crimson eyes, the pinkness of his lips courtesy of her blood coursing through him.

 She felt her heart flutter and then, she knew for sure.

 She was falling. 

This vampire had her wrapped around his finger. Just as the wizard did. What a curse it was to have a heart that sought love as freely and carelessly as hers did.

“Do you want this?” Astarion murmured.

“Yes. Do you –” 

Astarion covered her mouth with his hand, thrusting back inside her and dipping his face to her neck. His thrusts were merciless and determined. Each one pushed a wanton moan out of her, making her clench around his cock, and with each clench, he responded with a groan, creating a sinful symphony. When a wave of pleasure washed over both of them, Seraphina didn’t leave his tent. He didn’t ask her to. Instead, he put out the candles and laid down next to her. 

Their skin wasn’t touching, but she could still feel the ghost of his hands all over her. She wanted to be close to him. She could touch him if she reached out her hand, but it was like Astarion was leagues away. She wanted to open her heart to him. 

But she could already tell that he wasn’t ready to do the same. 

[twdnonsense]

I keep seeing people on tiktok listing the most shocking moments of TWD, but they never have all the ones I’m thinking of. So, here’s every moment from TWD that left me thinking “no fucking way they just put that in the show! Wtf did I just watch???” + reasons

*note: I stopped watching after season 8, so anything that happens after that won’t be on this list*

Merle sawing his own hand off (was not expecting self amputations this early on in the series)

Sofia coming out of the barn as a walker & Rick shooting her (I truly thought that Sofia was still alive and they would find her, so this was a total shock. Plus this was the first time I realized that even kids weren’t safe in this show)

Shane killing Otis so that the zombies would eat him instead & Shane could get away (first time, in my opinion, that Shane crossed the line of no return & completely left behind his morality)

Rick killing Shane & Carl shooting zombie Shane afterwards (when Rick talked Shane down, I thought that was going to be the end of it, I didn’t expect Rick to kill Shane afterwards. The part about Carl was a smaller shock, but I really thought he was pointing the gun at Rick for a minute there)

Carl having to shoot Lori to stop her from turning (I had a feeling Lori was going to die, but I never thought that Carl would be able to shoot his own mother like that at 13 years old)

The Governor keeping his zombie daughter locked up in a closet (this just came completely out of left field for me, I didn’t expect it at all)

The Governor shooting all of his people (again, came completely out of left field. Up until this point, I thought the Governor’s logic outweighed his crazy, but apparently not)

Hershel getting beheaded (I knew Hershel was gonna die, but not that he was gonna GET HIS HEAD CHOPPED OFF!!! Plus the fact that the Governor had to take a few swings before the head came completely off)

Lizzie killing Mika (didn’t think that Lizzie was that deranged yet. Sure, she tried to smother Judith before, but I thought her own sister would be an exception)

Carol executing Lizzie (being forced to kill a deranged child for the greater good of the group was not a place I thought this show was gonna go. When Carol and Tyreese were talking beforehand and Carol kept saying “she can’t be around other people”, I vividly remember thinking “so what’re they gonna do? Leave her by herself somewhere? Cause the only other option is killing her and they wouldn’t do that.” I was wrong)

The claimer trying to rape Carl (going in, I was already expecting there to be SA’s against the women in the show cause every apocalypse show seems to feel the need to include rape in some capacity. However, I was not expecting it to happen to Carl. I knew TWD could be dark, but never in a million years did I expect them to be dark enough to include attempted CHILD RAPE against the main character’s 14 YEAR OLD son)

Rick biting Joe’s throat out & gutting the pedophile (I knew Rick would never let something like that happen to Carl, but I didn’t expect that level of rage & bloodlust, especially when we’d spent a whole season with lame ass Farmer Rick. Ngl though, I was cheering so loudly when he did this, it was completely deserved)

Terminus (I never trusted it, but I was not expecting CANNIBALS)

Pete killing Reg & Rick executing him for it (I didn’t think Pete was that crazy & I definitely didn’t expect his punishment to be that immediate)

Carl getting his eye shot out (I knew Carl lost an eye before I started the series, but I didn’t expect it to happen like that)

Negan killing Glenn & Abraham (I didn’t expect BOTH of them to die + the manner in which they died, obviously)

Carl getting bit (I really thought he was gonna make it to the end)