#but the silence feels like. eerie in a way

[d-z20]

The Familiar's Return (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: After a quiet night takes an unexpected turn, you find yourself drawn back into the orbit of two witches who once owned your soul. Your bond as their Familiar begins to pull tighter, reigniting flames you’d long buried. In the shadows of magic and desire, you must navigate old connections, simmering tension, and a power that refuses to let you go.

- OR -

You flirt with Alice to make Agatha and Rio jealous so they fuck you to put you back in your place

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, bratty reader, top agathario, magical restraints, smidge of begging, mention of orgasm denial, fingering (Reader recv)

Words: 3.7k

A/N: totally didn’t write reader flirting with Alice because I want to flirt with her. This was written for this request that's been sat in my inbox for a while oops

AO3 | Masterlist

You’re lying on your bed, unwinding after a long, mundane day. A book in your hands, a mug of tea on the bedside table—just another ordinary evening. But then your eyelids grow heavy, and the pull of sleep becomes too much. You set the book down, curling into the warmth of your bed and closing your eyes for a moment...

The next thing you know, you’re waking up with a groan. You blink a few times, confusion clouding your mind. It’s dark, but the air feels different—charged somehow. You stretch and sit up, a little too quickly. That’s when you hear a voice above you.

"Uhhhh, guys, does the road usually have people just lying around sleeping?"

You blink again. The road? You glance around, confusion rising. This isn’t your room. You’re not even in your house. Instead, you’re on a strange dirt path, surrounded by towering trees that stretch endlessly in every direction, bathed in an eerie, otherworldly light.

You rub your eyes. That’s when you see her: Rio Vidal, one of your old owners.

She grins, flashing a wild, flirtatious smile. She’s clearly surprised, but there’s no hiding her amusement at seeing you again. “Well, well, look who decided to show up.”

The familiar tug at your soul confirms it: Agatha is here too. You don’t even need to see her to feel the connection. That bond... it’s been so long. You’d almost forgotten how strong it could be.

That must be how you ended up here. Their reunion summoning you to their side. Just when you thought you were free of their messes. Fucking brilliant.

Before you can finish that thought, a witch with red streaks in her hair walks over, frowning down at you.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing on the Witches’ Road?”

You freeze. The Witches’ Road? You knew it to be a con—something Agatha had fabricated to further her own power. But this place? It looks real. Too real. So what the hell are they doing here? And where exactly is here?

"Hey, answer the question!" The witch snaps, her tone sharper this time. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

You smirk up at her, unbothered. “Oh, just your average wanderer, looking for a bit of fun.” You stand up, brushing yourself off and raising an eyebrow at the confused faces around you. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Familiar extraordinaire, at your service.” You bow, bringing her hand to your lips for a playful kiss. “I was Agatha’s and Rio’s little pet back in the day.”

The witch blushes at your gesture, and the rest of the coven stares at you, unsure how to respond. But before anyone can say anything, Agatha’s voice cuts through the awkward silence.

“Alice, sit back down,” she orders, before her attention shifts to you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You meet her gaze, a cocky grin spreading across your face. “Guess I got summoned by your delightful company,” you say, glancing at Rio. “Seems like the connection still works, even after all this time.”

You cock your head to the side, glancing around at the others. "Well, this is... interesting. Always thought the Witches’ Road was a little too good to be real, right, Agatha?" You wink at her, and Rio laughs from beside Agatha, clearly entertained by your antics.

"Oh, this is definitely real," Rio says with a smirk. "Good to see you haven’t changed."

You flash a wicked grin. "Oh, you have no idea just how much I’ve changed, darling." The words hang heavy with implication. Before, you’d followed them around like a loyal, obedient plaything. Not anymore. Tonight, you were going to have some fun with them.

As the others chat, you notice Alice still watching you. Her gaze is intense; curiosity piqued.

You sit next to her, leaning back and crossing your arms to flex your muscles. “I have to admit, I’m intrigued by you, Alice. What's your story? I’ve always had a soft spot for women with a bit of edge.”

Alice blushes again, trying to maintain composure.

Rio laughs, clearly enjoying the way you’re provoking Agatha. She plays along, her voice laced with amusement. “You are exactly their type, Alice,” she says with a wink.

Agatha glares at you from across the fire, but there’s something more in her eyes—a flicker of jealousy she can’t hide. It’s that same old dance, and you’ve missed it. You love pushing her buttons, even when she tries to act indifferent.

Alice clears her throat, breaking the tension. She eyes the symbol on your arm, her voice dipping into something more serious. “That mark... what is it? Some sort of spell?” She lifts her sleeve to reveal a small tattoo. “My mother made me get this. Protection, she said.”

You glance at her arm, then back to her face, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Protection, huh? That’s cute.”

You lean in just a little, your fingers tracing lightly over her tattoo. “But no, my mark isn’t a spell. It’s the sign of a familiar. A scar that binds your soul to another.”

You let the words sink in, your fingers lingering a moment too long on her skin. Alice shivers slightly, caught off guard by your touch, her breath hitching. You enjoy the effect you’re having on her, the flush on her face making it all the more satisfying.

“So,” you ask teasingly, “do all you witches have a little family tradition of getting tattoos, or is that just an Alice thing?”

Alice laughs nervously, trying to hide her growing discomfort, but you can see the tension building. She’s trying so hard to stay in control, but you’re making it harder and harder to resist.

The rest of the coven continues chatting, but you remain focused on Alice, your body language making your intentions clear. You lean in closer, your touch deliberate, your words sweet but laced with something far less innocent.

You glance over at Agatha and Rio, seeing jealousy on both of their faces now. You knew flirting with someone else would get a rise out of them. Agatha’s eyes narrow, while Rio hides her irritation behind a smirk.

But Agatha’s had enough. She stands abruptly, her voice laced with fury. “Alright, pet,” she says, her tone unmistakably warning. “We need to have a word.”

You stand, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Oh, do we now? I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a ‘word.’”

Before you can protest further, Rio grabs your arm, pulling you away from the fire and into the shadows, out of the coven’s sight.

“I guess duty calls,” you tease, glancing back at the others as Rio pulls you further into the dark.

Once you’re out of sight, Agatha steps forward, her eyes smouldering with frustration. “You’ve been all over her since you got here,” she growls, her voice thick with something possessive. “Have you forgotten you belong to us?”

You pull back, laughing lightly. “Oh, really? You think I’m just going to roll over and—”

Before you can finish, Rio’s lips crash against yours—hard and demanding. Agatha follows suit, her kiss searing as she pulls you between them. The bond crackles to life around you, familiar and undeniable. Oh, how you’ve missed this.

You give in for a moment, allowing yourself to be swept up in the intensity. But then, with a mischievous smirk, you pull away. “As much as I’m enjoying this,” you say, breathless, “I’d rather be doing it with Alice.” You turn on your heel, leaving them standing in stunned silence. It was a lie, of course. Another taunt to see how far you can push them before they make you submit.

Agatha calls after you, fury and desire mixing in her voice. “You can’t just walk away from us.”

You roll your eyes, halting mid-step and turning to face them. “Oh, am I supposed to beg for your attention, Agatha? Like the good old days?”

Rio steps in, her playful side still evident as she pulls you closer. “We’re giving you the option to do it willing; we could just make you. You’re still our familiar, after all.”

pleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakeme

You lean back, eyes glittering with defiance. "I’m not begging for anything from either of you." At least not yet. You turn and walk back to the fire.

As you sit, you flick your wrist, conjuring up a spread of food and drink. The coven watches in awe, unsure how to process your sudden display of magic.

You smirk, explaining with a sly grin, “Being a familiar means I can do things other witches can’t. Just a perk of the job.”

The coven, unsure whether to be impressed or confused, starts reaching for drinks and food, the alcohol loosening them up. Soon, laughter fills the air, and their earlier wariness is forgotten.

You continue to flirt with Alice, enjoying every blush you pull from her, knowing you’ll face the consequences later.

—

By the time the fire burns low and the coven is scattered around in various states of drunken stupor, you’re left with Agatha and Rio—both simmering with desire, their eyes locked on you.

"Okay, you’ve had your fun," Rio murmurs, voice thick with something darker. "But now, it’s our turn."

Agatha steps closer, her lips curling into a sly smirk as she tilts her head, eyes dark with challenge. "Still think you’re in control, pet?" she purrs, her voice low and full of authority. 

Before you can retort, Rio sidesteps you, her presence a heat against your back. Her fingers trail along your shoulders, her touch feather-light, but there’s no mistaking the strength behind it. Her voice, husky and teasing, whispers close to your ear. "Oh, love, you don’t seem to understand. This is our game, and you don’t get to change the rules."

You scoff, trying to summon some of that bravado from earlier.

But before you can say anything, Rio’s magic snaps into place. Vines, glowing faintly with her energy, erupt from the earth, curling around your ankles and locking you in place. You glance down, startled, but the roots are unyielding, pulsing with her power. You tug once, then twice, and realise you’re trapped.

Agatha moves to stand in front of you, her piercing gaze meeting yours. She doesn’t touch you, but the weight of her presence alone has your pulse quickening. "Not so bold now, are we?" she says, her tone mocking, but there’s an undeniable heat behind her words.

Rio leans against you from behind, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as her hands rest on your hips, holding you firmly. "Don’t worry," she murmurs, her voice almost soothing if not for the edge of danger. "We’ll remind you where you belong."

To your shock, they don’t focus on you. Instead, Agatha steps into Rio’s space, their lips meeting in a slow, deliberate kiss, filled with hunger and command. It’s magnetic, their power crackling in the air, and you feel your body react against your will, heat flooding to your core, and you squeeze your legs together.

"Enjoying the view?" Agatha asks, her voice dripping with amusement as she pulls back just enough to smirk at you.

While your time apart means they’ve lost the ability to peer into your mind, they can still pick up on your feelings, especially when they’re this strong.

You glare, trying to fight the growing heat pooling in your core, but your voice betrays you. "Is that all you’ve got?" you challenge, though your voice wavers slightly.

Rio chuckles, a rich, sultry sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Still so defiant. Let’s see how long that lasts." With a small twitch of her finger, the vines force your legs apart, removing what little relief you had given yourself.

Agatha leans in again, her kiss with Rio deepening, more passionate now, as if daring you to watch, to feel your own irrelevance in the moment. You bite your lip, fighting the whimper, threatening to escape as you struggle against the vines keeping you rooted.

And then, Rio’s magic flares again. The roots tighten, pulling you slightly forward, locking you in place with perfect precision to watch them. Your arms tingle with the same sensation, her magic wrapping around your wrists as if sensing you might lash out.

Agatha glances back at you, her eyes alight with mischief. "What’s the matter, love? Jealous?" She tilts her head mockingly. "You didn’t seem to want our attention before, did you? Now you’re going to beg for it."

You feel a flush of frustration mixed with undeniable arousal. "I don’t beg," you snap, though the words lack conviction.

Rio arches an eyebrow, turning just enough to glance at you. "Oh, you will." Her voice is a promise, smooth and unrelenting. She leans back into Agatha, her hands trailing along the other witch’s waist, pulling her closer. Suddenly your legs feel cold and you look down to see your pants have vanished. There’s a vine snaking its way up your leg and between your thighs. It starts to stroke up and down your crotch, and you buck your hips trying to get more pressure. You thought you’d gained at least a scrap of dignity after all those years apart, yet here you are grinding down on a fucking plant, making it impossibly wet from your arousal, just because they’re making out in front of you.

Their kisses grow hungrier, more deliberate, and every movement feels calculated to remind you of your place. The tension in the air is suffocating, their bond radiating power and control. You watch as Agatha’s nails rake lightly down Rio’s back, eliciting a small gasp from the witch.

You tug harder at the magical restraints, a desperate sound bubbling in your throat despite your pride. Your body betrays you, heat pooling in every nerve as the intensity of their connection pulls at something deep within you.

Agatha turns to you again, her lips swollen from Rio’s kisses, her smirk sharper than ever. "Say it," she commands simply, her voice firm but not unkind.

You shake your head stubbornly, your pride warring with the growing need inside you. "Not a chance," you manage, though your voice is barely a whisper.

Rio chuckles again, her magic tightening the restraints around you just enough to keep you aware of how completely at their mercy you are. She presses a kiss to Agatha’s neck, murmuring something you can’t quite hear but feel in the air—a promise, a plan.

They turn to you together now, their combined presence overwhelming. Agatha steps closer, her hand reaching out to cup your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. "You’re trembling," she observes, her tone teasing. Her fingers trail down your jaw, leaving a tingling heat in their wake. "You can end this, you know. All you have to do is beg."

You bite your lip, your pride a fragile shield against their dominance. "I don’t—"

Rio cuts you off, her magic surging, pulling you taut against the vines. "Try again," she says softly, but the threat in her tone is clear.

Agatha’s lips brush against your ear, her breath warm and sending shivers down your spine. "Say it, pet. Or maybe we’ll just leave you here to simmer while we enjoy each other properly."

The thought sends a sharp pang through you; the idea of being left out, of missing their touch, their power, their presence, is more unbearable than you want to admit. Your resolve crumbles just slightly, enough for your voice to tremble as you whisper, "Please..."

Agatha’s eyes light up, her smirk widening as she leans back to survey you. "Not good enough," she chides.

Rio steps in, her hands on your shoulders now, grounding you. "Louder, love," she purrs. "We want to hear it."

Your pride shatters under their combined weight, and you finally let the words tumble from your lips. "Please, Agatha... Rio... I—" You swallow hard, your voice cracking with a mixture of need and surrender. "I need you. Please."

Rio lets the magical restraints fall away, disappearing into the ground, and Agatha’s lips come crashing down on yours. The kiss is fierce, hungry��more than just a reclaiming, it's a possession. You feel your mark burn with desire, the familiar sting that always came with them, only this time it’s more intense, more urgent. They embrace you fully now, and you melt into the sensation, every inch of you on fire, every breath shared between the three of you.

Rio’s hands are everywhere, teasing, possessive, pulling you tighter against her. She presses you into Agatha’s chest, feeling the magic thrumming in your veins, making every part of you ache for more. Agatha’s fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back, allowing Rio to trail kisses down your throat, her teeth grazing your skin, setting your nerves ablaze. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming—your resistance dissolving entirely under their combined touch.

The moment Rio pushes a finger inside you, you feel your walls tighten immediately. A benefit of being their familiar was how easily they could make you cum; the downside was it also meant they were the only people who could make you cum, so in all your decades apart, you haven’t been able to climax even once. Talk about orgasm denial.

They can feel your desire, the way your body trembles in anticipation, and they’re more than happy to give you exactly what you need. Rio, her eyes burning with possessive hunger, inserts another finger, pressing her palm firmly against your clit. Her fingers flex, teasing, sending waves of heat through you as they start to move, driving you crazy with the slow, deliberate pressure. Every touch from her feels like an electrifying promise, like the world is collapsing into the space between you. You can barely focus, drowning in the sensation as she doesn’t stop, guiding you into a rhythm that has you gasping for more.

Meanwhile, Agatha is relentless. Her lips find yours again, but this time it’s different—her kiss is sharper, more urgent. She bites down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting, but it’s the kind of pain you crave, the kind of roughness that always ignites something dark and hungry within you. You gasp, the sensation intensifying as she takes advantage of your breathless moment. Her teeth graze your lip one more time, a reminder that she holds the power in this dance.

Before you can process, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, deep and possessive. The kiss becomes an exploration, a claim, as Agatha takes what she wants, making sure you feel every movement, every shift of her body against yours. You kiss her back hungrily, matching her intensity, responding to the pull of her control. It’s familiar—this frantic need to give in, to let go, to surrender. And yet, it feels different this time—there’s no escape, no hesitation, only the heat of their presence enveloping you, pulling you further under their spell.

Your breath hitches as Rio shifts her focus, pressing harder into you, moving with purpose, her touch as commanding as Agatha’s kiss. It’s a beautiful chaos—the push and pull of their desire, the control they hold over you. You can’t tell where one touch ends and the other begins, everything blending together into one overwhelming sensation that leaves you gasping for air, for more.

"That's it," Agatha murmurs against your lips, her voice low and throaty. "You’ll always be ours, and ours alone."

The words sink deep, pushing you past the breaking point. You finally let go completely, surrendering to the tidal wave of sensation. Your entire body tenses, every nerve lit up with a white-hot intensity as you reach your peak. It’s as if time itself halts in reverence of the moment, and all you can feel is them—their hands, their lips, their presence anchoring you even as they unravel you. It’s overwhelming, raw, and impossible to contain. Your breath catches, breaking into a shuddering gasp as your orgasm consumes you, leaving you trembling in their hold.

The aftermath is a blur of warmth and relief, your body melting against theirs as the world slowly rights itself. Still high on the ecstasy of your climax, clarity seeps in through the haze. For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself think about how much you’ve missed them—not just their touch, but them, the soul-deep connection that once defined your bond. The longing you’d buried, the emptiness you’d ignored, rushes to the surface, overwhelming in its magnitude.

Agatha’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and familiar, sending shivers down your spine. “We’ve missed you too.”

You blink, startled, because her lips haven’t moved. The realisation strikes you like a spark catching flame—they’re in your mind again. The bond has fully reignited, glowing brighter than ever, their thoughts brushing against yours like the softest caress.

A grin tugs at your lips, even as a lump forms in your throat. For so long, you’ve felt stretched too thin, as though your soul had grown just a little too large, leaving a space that nothing else could fill. You hadn’t realised just how incomplete you’d been until now, until this. With them.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the missing pieces are back in place. The weight of their presence settles over you, grounding and comforting, like the steady pulse of a heartbeat you’d forgotten you needed. You close your eyes and lean into them, basking in the completeness of it, a smile playing at your lips as the warmth of their bond wraps around you.

Rio chuckles softly, her fingers brushing through your hair. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. There’s no need to say anything. They already know, as deeply and completely as you do. Whatever comes next, you’re no longer alone—and that, more than anything, is what you’ve missed the most.

-----

I know you didn't ask for the soft finish but I'm an absolute sucker for a happy ending

[skzstannie]

"My Soulmate"

SKZ -> Hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: slight angst, crack, vampire/soulmate AU wc: ~2,200 cw: none

summary: being kidnapped and brought to your vampire soulmate is something you never knew you needed... until now.

A/N: Hello again! Life's been crazy, and I've actually had this written since forever ago, so I decided to go ahead and edit and post it! Hope you enjoy :)

Alsoooo, I survived the Ticketmaster war and was able to snag some SKZ tickets to the Chicago show!!!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Please be careful. That area is so sketchy, especially at night. Infested with those dastardly vampires, I'll tell ya."

"Mom, I'm fine. The bus station is only a mile down the road, and I'm almost there," you speak into the phone.

Your mom gives a disappointed sigh from the other end. "Sweetie, I've heard so many stories of girls going missing on that street. I really wish you would've listened to me and taken a different way home."

"I've always taken this way home from work; why are you so worried about it now?" The more you speak with your mom, the more paranoid you become. All the shadows out of the corner of your eye appear as humans, lurking behind buildings and in alleyways.

"Because a girl was killed just last week walking around down there, not to mention she was by herself. Just like you!" she screeches over the line. You have to pull the phone away from your head to protect your poor eardrums. "It was a gang that took them! What was their name again? Stray dogs? Stray... Stay? I can't remember."

"It's Stray Kids, mom. I'm sure they're not even around these parts anymore now that the cops are looking for them."

Too focused on your surroundings rather than the ground beneath you, you trip and fall over a large lip in the sidewalk. Your body hits the ground, and you immediately clutch your knee. Your legs are littered with scrapes and scratches, but your knee in particular has blood dripping down it. Pieces of dirt cover your skin, unpleasantly sticking to your wound and the oozing blood.

You startle from the sudden cold breeze you feel over your shoulder. You turn abruptly, hissing when your leg rubs against the ground. Another gust of wind brushes past your front, and you're quick to twist around again. Your heartrate picks up at the eeriness of the situation, your hands turning clammy.

Suddenly, a being materializes in front of you. A scream catches in your throat when another appears next to him. Both are dressed in normal clothing, albeit entirely black in appearance, the only color emitting from the two beings in front of you coming from their pale skin. It's almost sparkling under the glow from the streetlights.

They stand and stare for a moment, and the silence is palpable. As you make eye contact with them, you take notice of their eye color- a deep, fiery red. You feel as though you’re in a hypnotic state as you continue to stare into their eyes. Your surroundings become blurred the longer you look, and you begin to feel dizzy as the world around you begins to spin.

You can faintly hear your mom screaming at you through your phone, calling out for you with panic in her voice, but you can't seem to look away from the boys in front of you.

The dizzier you feel, the calmer you become. It's a weird sensation, feeling all your anxiety and fear just slipping from you. The last thing you see is the muscular man in front of you approaching before you close your eyes from the exhaustion. It came out of nowhere, but it's all-consuming as all thoughts leave your head, and you're left their laying limp and vulnerable.

~ ~ ~

Your eyes feel heavy as you open them, and the bright lights are blinding as they invade your vision. Reaching up to rub your eyes, you quickly realize that your arms are tied behind your back. Becoming aware of your surroundings, you feel the cool plastic chair beneath you. Looking down, you see the zip ties around each of your ankles, anchoring you to the chair.

You appear to be tied up in a cell of some sort. Black, solid bars seal you off from the outside of the room. The cell is small, only about 8 ft by 8 ft if you had to guess. The floor is nothing special, just some concrete. While you can't see much from where your seated in the corner, the room around you seems empty and cold. A desk sits in the middle with a few stacks of paper on top.

Your eyes tear up at your predicament as the memories of the men dressed in all black come back to you. Question upon question spring into your head; where'd they come from? Where'd they bring you? What do they want from you?

Your worries seem to multiply by the second, and you are filled with dread as you consider the possibilities.

You know you must look amess as sweat starts to pool on your forehead, not only from the temperature of the room but also the imminent danger present upon you. Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you desperately pull at the zip ties holding you hostage.

A door creaks open while in the middle of your struggle, and you freeze. Voices fill the open space, and your mouth runs dry at the thought of meeting your captor.

"I told you, we won't be getting our next shipment of blood for another couple weeks. You're just gonna have to hold off-" the voice cuts off as the man walks around the corner. He makes eye contact with you. He shares the same eye color as the men that took you, but you know from the facial features that this isn't the same one.

The man heaves a sigh, his eyes never leaving yours. "I've gotta call you back," he says before hanging up the phone. Without uttering another word, the man walks back out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again.

It feels as if hours have gone by the next time you hear the door open. This time, cries of pain fill the silent void. You become alert at that, straightening up in your seat. Curiosity fills your gaze as you’re welcomed with the man from earlier, this time accompanied by two more.

The two men are being dragged by their ears, which appears uncomfortable if the sounds of pain are anything to go by.

The man from earlier releases them once they are standing right outside your cell.

"Explain yourselves," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Both men start talking over each other immediately, making it impossible to understand either one. "One at a time you pabos!" he interrupts them, creating an uncomfortable silence.

The buff one, which you now recall as one of the accomplices to your kidnapping, gestures roughly to the other man. Taking this as his cue to explain, he begins, "We swear she's the right one this time!" His words are rushed as he gestures towards you.

"You're kidding," the man in charge says, bringing his fingers to grasp at the bridge of his nose. "We've already been over this. You two can't keep kidnapping women from off the streets just because you believe them to be Hyunjin's soulmate."

Your heart races as your brought into the discussion. Soulmate?

You've heard of soulmates, but only ever in fiction, like books and movies. From what you've read, vampires are the only beings who can initiate the soulmate bond. Thereafter, the human can feel the bond, as well.

Suddenly, the pieces fall perfectly into place as you consider all the factors. Materializing out of nowhere, the red eyes, the hypnosis. These guys are vampires. How you didn't put it together sooner, you're not sure.

The bravery you're hit with is astounding, and you can't hold yourself back from interrupting the conversation. "Who are you guys and what do you want from me?" The man's rambling stops as all three look to you.

"Hi..." the man rambling starts, "I'm Jisung, and this is Lee Know and Changbin. We've brought you here because we believe you're our friend's soulmate."

"Please just let me go. I promise not to tell anyone about this!" you plead. You don't know what being the soulmate of a vampire entails, but you surely don't want to find out.

"Oh, we can never let you go," the man in charge, Lee Know, answers. "You've seen us, experienced our presence. You either have to stay with us, or... well, we kill you. You can thank these idiots for that," he gestures to Jisung and Changbin. Jisung brings his hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing it awkwardly.

You let out a sob at the ultimatum. You don't want to stay here forever. You want to go home, shower, and complain to your mom about work. You want to call your best friend and talk to her about the cute guy that you saw. The thought of never being able to do those things again envelopes you with sorrow, and more prominently, fear.

"Please don't cry," Jisung says, his hands coming up around the bars of the cell. "We would never want Hyunjin's soulmate to be sad."

"Jisung, we don't even know if this is his soulmate," Changbin says, his gaze piercing the side of your face.

"I'll prove it to you," he says before running out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

"I swear, I will kill both of you if this isn't the right girl. You said that the time before this was the last, and I'm getting tired of hiding dead bodies," Lee Know tells Changbin.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you suddenly really hope you are this guy's soulmate. While this doesn't sound like the greatest of situations, at least if you live you'll get a chance to escape.

Changbin and Lee Know talk amongst themselves, and your anxiety starts to build once more.

~ ~ ~

It feels as if hours have gone by the time there's movement outside your cell again. Changbin and Lee Know, having gotten tired of standing, had taken a seat on the couch towards the back of the room, busying themselves on their phones.

You're still stuck in the same position. You've been wriggling your hands around, but you've realized there's no use in trying to escape. The two men would surely notice if the zip ties came undone, and even if they didn't, you're still stuck in this cell. You don't know what lies outside this room, but you're scared to find out.

You finally hear the door swing open, and you recognize Jisung's voice, this time accompanied by another stranger. The two come into view, and your breath hitches in your throat when your eyes meet the man Jisung brought with him.

He is easily the most beautiful man you've ever seen. His eyes meet yours, and you're immediately captivated, unable to look away. It's a strange feeling, but you suddenly feel all the worry and fear being washed from you, leaving you with a feeling of peace and serenity. It's almost like you've known this man for years, the way he brought you immediate comfort in this unfamiliar place.

"My soulmate," he whispers, and at this point you can only assume this is the 'Hyunjin' they were talking about.

In the blink of an eye, he materializes in front of you, now inside the cell. He quickly brings his hands towards you, and you feel no fear. The dread that once filled your body is no more as you allow him to carefully undo the zip ties from around your wrists and ankles.

Tears still slip down your cheeks, but the emotional pain you once felt is no more. You're overcome with unfamiliar emotions, and the tears don't stop.

You feel as if you recognize Hyunjin from your dreams. Always the hero, saving you from whatever dangers are out there for waiting for you.

Once the zip ties are off, you immediately rise to your feet and reach out to hold him. He embraces you even tighter, his arms wrapping firmly around your exhausted figure.

"This is such a strange feeling, but I feel at peace now," you whisper to him, your head resting on his shoulder.

"It's because we're together. The soulmate bond, I initiated it, and you've accepted it," he whispers back. "We can be together now."

"Have I seen you before?" you ask, taking a step back to admire his beautiful features.

"Maybe in your dreams. I've visited you there before. I've known what you looked like for a long time. That's how these guys found you," he says, gesturing behind him to Jisung and Changbin.

"Yea, and it only took us two tries! Do you know how vague of a description I had to go off of?" Jisung complains.

"Because I didn't expect you to go out and try to find her!" Hyunjin exclaims, exasperated.

"Well, I figured since your birthday was coming up, I could do something nice for you. And it only costed us one casualty!"

"Which I'm still dealing with, by the way," Lee Know says.

"Yea, yea. I just had a gut feeling about it this time."

[dissapointu]

“Shadows of Us” Sevika x Reader Angst Story

The streets of Zaun were as chaotic as ever, thick with the acrid stench of exhaust fumes and desperation. The flickering neon lights cast eerie shadows on the crumbling walls, illuminating the decay that festered in the heart of the Undercity. It was in these shadows that you found yourself, caught between love and survival, tethered to a woman who was as dangerous as she was captivating—Sevika.

You leaned against the cold metal railing of the Last Drop’s second floor, nursing a drink that had long since lost its taste. The rowdy patrons below shouted and laughed, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. Sevika sat at her usual table near the corner, her mechanical arm glinting under the dim lights as she leaned back, relaxed and confident. She was playing cards with a group of thugs, and from her smirk, she was winning.

But you couldn’t relax. Not tonight.

The weight of your doubts pressed on your chest like a vice. You had been with Sevika for nearly a year now, drawn into her orbit by her raw charisma and the promise of something real in a city that chewed people up and spat them out. But love wasn’t enough to drown out the screams of the people she hurt or silence the nagging voice in your head whispering that you were losing yourself in her shadow.

As if sensing your gaze, Sevika looked up from her game, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. She tilted her head in a silent question, but you quickly looked away, pretending to sip your drink. You felt her eyes linger for a moment longer before she returned to her game, dismissing your unease as one of your moods.

It wasn’t always like this. When you first met Sevika, she was magnetic. She had a way of making you feel seen, even in a crowd. Her touch was grounding, her voice a low, steady hum that made you believe everything would be okay. She was your anchor in Zaun’s chaos. But over time, that anchor began to feel like a chain.

Sevika’s work with Silco grew darker by the day. She never told you everything, but you didn’t need details to understand the consequences. The bloodstains on her clothes, the haunted look in her eyes after a job, the way she avoided your touch some nights—it all painted a picture you didn’t want to see.

“Y/N,” Sevika’s gruff voice snapped you out of your thoughts. She was standing next to you now, her broad frame blocking out the light from the bar below. “What’s with the face?”

You forced a smile. “Just tired, that’s all.”

She frowned, unconvinced. “You’ve been ‘just tired’ for days now. What’s going on?”

Your pulse quickened. This was your chance to speak, to let it all out. But the words caught in your throat, tangled in fear and love. Instead, you shook your head. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t push. “Fine. Let’s get out of here. I’m done for the night.”

You followed her out of the bar, the distance between you feeling greater than the mere steps it took to reach the door.

The walk back to Sevika’s apartment was silent, save for the hum of machinery and the occasional shout from the alleys. Sevika lit a cigarette, the glow from the ember briefly illuminating her sharp features. She looked as untouchable as ever, her presence commanding and unyielding.

But you couldn’t stay silent anymore.

“Sevika,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “Do you ever think about… leaving all this behind?”

She exhaled a plume of smoke, her pace slowing. “What do you mean?”

“This.” You gestured vaguely to the city around you. “The violence, the bloodshed. Working for Silco. Don’t you ever want more than this?”

Sevika stopped, turning to face you fully. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes burned with intensity. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I just… I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “Watching you come home covered in blood, wondering if the next job will be the one that—” You stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m scared, Sevika. For you. For us.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You knew what this was when you got involved with me.”

“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” you shot back, anger and despair bubbling to the surface. “I didn’t know it would feel like I’m losing you. Or maybe I’m losing myself.”

Sevika took a long drag from her cigarette, her expression hardening. “This is who I am, Y/N. I can’t just walk away. Silco trusts me, and I trust him. That’s not something I can throw away because you’re having second thoughts.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. “So that’s it? I’m supposed to just accept this? Accept watching you destroy yourself for him?”

“It’s not that simple,” she said, her tone clipped. “You think I enjoy the shit I have to do? You think I don’t wish things could be different? But this is Zaun. You survive, or you die. That’s the way it is.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Maybe I don’t want to just survive, Sevika. Maybe I want more.”

She looked away, her jaw clenching. For a moment, the vulnerability in her eyes threatened to crack through her tough exterior. But then, just as quickly, it was gone. “Then maybe you’re in the wrong place.”

Her words were a dagger to your heart. You took a shaky step back, the weight of her dismissal crushing you. “I guess I am.”

The apartment was cold without her.

After that night, you left. You didn’t pack much—just a bag of essentials and the memories you couldn’t bear to leave behind. Sevika didn’t try to stop you. She let you go, her pride or her pain keeping her from saying the words you so desperately needed to hear.

The days that followed were a blur. You stayed with a friend on the other side of the city, trying to piece yourself back together. But every corner of Zaun reminded you of her. The scent of smoke, the sound of heavy boots on metal floors, the faint whir of machinery—it all brought her back to you in flashes.

You wondered if she missed you. If she thought about the way you used to curl up together on the couch, her arm draped protectively around you. If she remembered the late nights spent talking about dreams you both knew would never come true.

But Sevika was nothing if not stubborn. If she regretted letting you go, she wouldn’t show it. That was her way—burying her pain beneath layers of steel and defiance.

Weeks passed before you saw her again.

You were on your way back from the market, the bag of food in your arms feeling heavier than usual. The familiar hum of the Last Drop’s neon sign caught your eye, and before you could stop yourself, you stepped inside.

She was there, of course, sitting at her usual table. She looked tired, her shoulders heavier than you remembered, her hair messier. For a moment, you thought about turning around and leaving before she saw you. But then her eyes met yours.

The air between you was electric, charged with unspoken words and lingering pain. She stood slowly, her towering frame cutting through the crowd as she approached you.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice softer than you expected.

“Sevika,” you replied, your heart hammering in your chest.

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you said, your tone sharper than intended.

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. “Look, I’m not good at this… talking thing. But I—” She paused, struggling to find the words. “I miss you.”

Your heart ached at the admission, but the wounds were still fresh. “You miss me, but you let me walk away.”

“I thought it was what you wanted,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “You said you couldn’t do this anymore, and I—” She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“It’s not about fixing it, Sevika,” you said, your voice breaking. “It’s about choosing. Choosing us. But I don’t think you can.”

Her expression crumbled for a split second before she schooled it into indifference. “Maybe I can’t.”

The finality of her words shattered you. You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks as you stepped back. “Then there’s nothing left to say.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Sevika behind in the shadows where she belonged.

The pain didn’t fade, but over time, it dulled. You found a new rhythm, a life that didn’t revolve around the chaos of Zaun or the unpredictable storm that was Sevika. But late at night, when the city was quiet and the memories crept in, you wondered if she ever thought about you. If she ever regretted letting you go.

[feebisart]

The Door You Don’t Knock On (1/3)

I feel like writing down the fic idea that spawned from talking with @caffeine-at-3am on Discord.

It began with a door.

A strange and curious wooden door appeared misplaced in the apartment.

It had faded yellow paint cracked, fraying edges. Parts of the wood were chipped, fragments spread across the floor. The inviting golden bronze handle gleamed in the room's incandescent light with a warm glow.

The child with black unruly hair and shining blue curious eyes gazed at the door in the wardrobe. It was tall enough for a child to open. Faint spirals were etched in the wood's grain, different from the long vertical lines he was used to seeing.

He tilted his head to the side as he brushed aside the hangers of red sweaters, white shirts, and similar shades of jeans. He hesitated but curiosity won over as he felt the spiral patterns etched onto the wooden surface.

As his sky blue eyes focused on the handle, his hands moved unconsciously towards it. A quick, sharp jerk of his head and he pulled himself back. He moved the hangers back to their original position and closed the door. Darkness enclosed the small yellow door, coated with harsh rejection.

Billy Batson, a normal seven-year-old boy, found himself with a trivial issue. Fawcett City was already a strange place—a city so full of magic and topsy-turvy Wonderland rules, 1940s art Deco, and buildings that defied gravity.

So, a yellow door stalking a young kid wasn't out of the ordinary.

It materialized out of nowhere or perhaps everywhere. In everything. Apparently, many things can count as a 'door,' from what Billy discovered.

As he walked from his home to WHIZ radio for his shift, he saw the overpass he usually walks beneath take on an off cream color. The boy let out an irritated groan before taking the long way to work. Mr. Morris was very kind and understanding. After all, the way to work varies every day due to the eccentricities of the city. Mr. Morris said it gave Fawcett a unique kind of character.

He woke up one morning and went to the restroom to do his morning ritual. His eyes narrowed at the cap of his toothpaste which was a dark chartreuse color. With a sigh, he opened a new tube remarking what a waste as he tossed the previous cylinder.

The Door took other forms as well—e-mails, cup lids, welcome mats, crossing signals, and Broadway openings. He wanted to watch the Beetlejuice musical. However, he couldn't even stay since the maroon stage curtains changed into washed-out, sickly lemon-colored curtains during the opening act.

Billy could handle adversity. He had dealt with the death of his parents, living with Ebenezer, and being a homeless part-time superhero, but this?

This was torture.

The boy could endure outrageous nonsensical rules and avoid eerie traps every day if he needs to. Billy draws the line at being unable to watch a musical he saved up with his meager pay. He only heard the audience's screams and laughs as he gave the curtains a stink eye.

Fine.

Two can play at that game.

Billy goes home with a stop for groceries. It takes him a while to head home because he took the long way for certain stalker reasons.

In the morning, Billy avoided opening the wrong packet of flour, clearly the gold trim was the mimic here. It was like playing the world's worst game of Spot the Difference except every scene was a waking nightmare of a Hidden Object game.

He had a plan.

Finally, the child had finished preparing and plating. There were strawberry shortcake scones with a light dash of powdered sugar, shortbread cookies with a chocolate drizzle, and freshly brewed oolong tea with a porcelain teapot set.

Tawky Tawny had told him that the best way to come to a compromise is when you negotiate with a meal.

He cleared his closet looking for that nauseous underripe citrus shade of a door and... Yup, there it was. With a disarming smile, Billy Batson knocked on the door three times and waited.

There was silence and only the faint trail of steam flowing into the air from the spout. Gradually, the handle turned, a cacophonous creak of nails against the chalkboard as the door slid open.

Fingers, if it could even be called that, splayed and curled and twisted as a voice croaked out on a saccharine, static-filled voice, "why don't we have tea inside?"

Billy could make out shapes and fractals converging and diverging at the same and different times. Angles sharp enough to hurt then rounded and curled to offer a false sense of comfort. The eyes ever changing revealed the truth, though. Hunger, a meal, and a trap.

"Why not." Billy stated with a cordial smile while carrying the large tray, stepping over the boundary. Behind him, the door creaked shut and the monster grinned with unspooling lips lined with jagged glass teeth.

︵‿︵‿୨𖦹୧‿︵‿︵

Next

[satinestales]

❝between truth and desire❞ | armand x fem!reader

pairing: armand x fem!reader, 4k+ words

summary: As you and Armand recount your shared history to your old friend Daniel Molloy, your words falter, and your memories blur under the weight of time and emotion. Later, Armand ensures you remember exactly how it truly happened—or at least, how he wants you to.

warnings: armand's manipulative gremlin ass, sexual tension, mind control?, unrealistic version of top armand, blood play, blood-sucking as a form of oral sex, not proofread, mention of claudia's death, english is not my native english

For the past three hours, you’ve been reminiscing about your life in 1940s Paris with your old friend, now a successful journalist. It’s been surprisingly easy, sharing those memories of joy and excitement, especially with Armand by your side. Daniel’s sarcastic comments make you laugh, keeping the mood light even when the stories dip into something more bittersweet.

Armand’s hand rests on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles. That small, familiar touch pulls you back into the past, and for a fleeting moment, it almost feels like you’re there again—back in Paris, on your very first date.

You shared stories about the Théâtre des Vampires, describing its grandeur and eerie charm in vivid detail. Armand never interrupted, just sat quietly beside you, listening. Every so often, he’d chime in, adding little details you’d forgotten, his voice soft and steady. It felt natural, the two of you piecing the memories together like a story only you could tell.

Every eye in the room was on you, the silence in the mansion broken only by your voice. It was steady, serious, as you recounted those final days in the coven—when the air grew colder and the others fell quiet. You remembered how Louis had sensed it first, even before Claudia or Madeleine. And you remembered it too, that creeping tension, the way it lingered unspoken.

But here and now, you spoke of it clearly, without a single stutter.

"It was a cold night when I woke up," you began, your voice calm despite the weight of the memory. "Louis was already gone, and I couldn’t find any trace of Claudia." Armand’s hand rested gently on your thigh, comforting you, while Daniel’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. "I assumed they’d gone out together," you continued, glancing down for a moment, "since I’d spent the last few days with my love."

You felt Armand shift beside you, his lips curling into a faint smile as he tilted his head, studying you with that quiet intensity. Even after all these years, that look still had the power to make you blush.

"About four hours later, there was a knock at our door," you said, your voice wavering between fear and sarcasm. "I hadn’t invited anyone, so I figured it was Armand dropping by for one of his unannounced visits. But when I opened the door..." You paused, your eyes narrowing slightly at the memory.

"Santiago was standing there," you continued, "and behind him were Celeste and Estelle, both wearing those ridiculous judges' wigs." The words spilled out, edged with a dry, bitter humor that couldn’t quite mask the unease curling in your chest.

You couldn’t help but hear Daniel’s chuckle at the mention of the wigs, but it didn’t faze you. You pressed on, even though you felt Armand’s gaze shift, no longer warm or affectionate. It had become something colder, sharper, something you couldn’t quite place.

“I woke up in the theater, on the stage,” you continued, your voice steadier now, the weight of the memory pressing down. “Claudia, Louis, and Madeleine were next to me. Our Achilles’ heels torn, so we couldn’t run.”

You felt the silence stretch, thick with tension. Even Daniel’s amusement seemed to fade as your words lingered in the air, heavy with the truth of what had come next.

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “I assume they put you on trial? For what, exactly? Killing Lestat, I presume?”

You could only nod, the memories flooding back in a rush. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to push them back, but they lingered like a shadow, heavy and impossible to ignore.

“And where was your love, Armand?” Daniel asked, now turning his gaze to Armand, who hadn’t shifted an inch. He was eerily still, his eyes fixed on you, unreadable and unblinking.

The silence that followed was thick, like a fog that refused to lift. Armand’s presence filled the room, and you could feel the weight of his attention pressing against you, more suffocating than comforting.

"I have to jump in here," Armand’s voice broke the silence, smooth and almost mocking. "I think my love's memory is a little foggy."

You were forced to look at him, his words pulling your gaze like a magnet. His lips curled into a crooked smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes—dull, black, devoid of warmth—stared at you with an unsettling calm, as if he were carefully rearranging the pieces of a puzzle you didn’t fully understand.

"I know how the trial happened," you said, forcing a smile at him, trying to reclaim some control. "You don’t have to speak for me."

Armand’s hand, which had been lightly resting on your thigh, stilled. The tension between you thickened, but he didn’t back down.

"I wouldn’t if it wasn’t important," he replied, his voice smooth, though the undertone of something darker lingered. "But if we want the people to know the truth, we should give it to them. Don’t you think so?"

He tilted his head again, studying you with a gaze that felt both tender and unsettling. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your ear. His touch, so gentle, pulled a reaction from you before you could stop it. You leaned into it, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, despite the coldness in his eyes. It was a comforting, familiar warmth, but it made your heart skip nonetheless.

"So what exactly happened?" Daniel asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he waited for an answer, his eyes flicking between you and Armand.

Before you could respond, Armand’s voice sliced through the air, gentle but commanding, as though he had already decided the direction this conversation would go.

You wanted to speak, to reclaim the words, but your mouth wouldn’t move. It was as if your mind had sealed your mouth shut, leaving you unable to break the silence Armnd had claimed. You sat frozen, a quiet tension building, unable to shake the feeling that the answer would come from him and not you.

"I want to apologize for the false answer you were given," Armand said, his voice smooth and reassuring, though there was an underlying edge to it. "Nobody can blame her. It’s been a few decades, after all."

His thumb began to trace gentle circles on your thigh, an attempt to soothe the growing tightness in your chest, but his words felt like a weight on your heart.

"I was aware of the coven's plan," he continued, his gaze never leaving you, "and went to warn my dear American friends. But when I arrived, I could find only mon cœur."

He turned to you then, a soft smile curling at the corners of his lips. The warmth of it washed over you, but there was something distant in his eyes, as though he were pulling you into a memory you couldn’t quite grasp.

You didn’t remember the way he described it, not at all. But as he spoke, you couldn’t help but wonder—maybe, after all these years, it was easy to forget.

It took another three hours before Daniel finally asked for a break, suggesting that the conversation continue the next day. You didn’t object; in fact, you welcomed the pause. Armand, as always, was by your side, leading you toward your bedroom.

As he walked behind you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, the tension in the air was palpable, thick enough that you could almost cut it with scissors. You’d made a mistake today, one that almost painted Armand in a bad light. You couldn’t say you were scared—not exactly—but you weren’t thrilled either.

The quiet weight of his presence behind you was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure what to expect once the door closed behind you, but you knew it wasn’t going to be an easy night.

You expected Armand to speak once the door was closed and locked, but he remained silent, allowing the quiet to settle between you. The stillness wrapped around both of you as you went about getting ready for bed, the only sound was the soft rustling of fabric and the distant hum of the house.

But as you changed into your bedrobe, you felt it—his gaze, heavy and unwavering, burning into your back. His eyes followed the curves of your body, lingering on every movement, never once leaving you. It was unnerving, that constant watchfulness, like he was cataloging each detail of you, and yet, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to look back.

It wasn’t until you lay back on the bed, stealing glances from where you sat, that you watched Armand get comfortable in the robe you’d bought him. He didn’t rush, moving with a natural ease that always seemed deliberate, as though every gesture was meant to be noticed.

He was beautiful in a way that never stopped catching you off guard. Like when his hair fell in loose waves, brushing just over his eyes, and even the slight crook of his nose added to his charm, making him seem more real, more human—if only just. You couldn’t help but admire him, even after all this time.

He knew it. Of course, he did. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. He didn’t need to meet your gaze to know you were watching. He always knew when your attention was on him—and he soaked it in like sunlight.

"The conversation almost got out of control today," Armand said, his voice breaking the silence. He turned to face you, his head tilted in that way he always did, his eyes slowly scanning you from head to toe.

"I'm sorry," you said with a soft chuckle, your gaze warm as you looked up at him. As he stepped closer, his presence seemed to fill the room, his figure towering over you in that quiet, commanding way of his.

"Guess I got the facts wrong," you continued, your tone light but unsure. "Even though... I can’t quite recall the version you described to Daniel."

He stayed quiet for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you shiver. It felt like he was trying to see right through you, to penetrate your thoughts and mind with nothing more than a look.

You knew he could. He was an ancient vampire, after all, with gifts far more powerful than most could comprehend. But even as the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it away. Armand would never take advantage of that, not with you.

You loved him too much to doubt him, even for a second. And perhaps, deep down, you knew that was exactly what he wanted—to be loved without question.

"My dear," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips as he slowly bent his knees, kneeling in front of you. His hands rested lightly on your ankles, grounding you as you propped yourself up on your elbows to meet his gaze.

"It’s been decades," he continued, his tone gentle, almost comforting. "It’s only natural to forget or mix things up. After all, I was there to correct you. Nothing bad happened." His lips curved into a smirk, the words flowing sweetly, meant to soothe.

But as his gaze lingered on you, you couldn’t help but catch it—the faint spark of coldness in his eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there, sharp as a blade hidden behind silk.

"I’m always going to be there," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand moved slowly, trailing up from your ankle to your knee, the touch light but unyielding.

He never broke eye contact, his gaze locking you in place. There was something possessive in the way he looked at you, something that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t fear—not exactly—but the weight of his promise, the intensity of his presence, was enough to make you quiver.

"Good," you said with a nod, doing your best to ignore the warmth swirling in your stomach. Even after seventy years, he still had that effect on you. You chuckled, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Because I’ll hunt you down if you ever dare to leave."

Your tone was light, but the weight behind your words was anything but. You meant it. Armand had his secrets, just as you had yours, but one thing you shared was an obsession—an all-consuming need for each other.

You couldn’t imagine your life without him; in truth, you could barely remember the life you had before him. as though the years before he arrived had been erased. Every memory you held close revolved around him, around the two of you together.

And you were determined to keep it that way. Forever.

"I would never," he said softly, a small smile gracing his lips before he leaned in and pressed them to yours. The kiss was brief but filled with warmth, meant to reassure you, to steady the swirling emotions inside.

As he pulled back, his face lingered close to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, "I didn’t tell Mr. Molloy the whole truth. When I went to warn you... I left out some things."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your heart pounding as you hung on to his every word. "What’s that?" you asked, your voice soft, as you reached up to gently place your hand on his cheek.

He looked almost unreal, like a sculpture of a devil—sinful, beautiful. The candlelight bathed him in a warm glow, casting shadows that only deepened the beauty of him. His dark skin seemed to drink in the light as if he were made of something otherworldly.

You had seen angels before, in your long life, but none could compare to the beauty of the devil kneeling between your legs. The one who had always held you in his thrall. The one you could never, ever escape.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his presence fill the space between you, his body slowly overpowering yours. With a gentle but firm push, he guided you onto your back, the weight of him settling above you, dominating yet tender. His lips found the crook of your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against your skin, while his hands drifted down to your waist, pulling you closer.

A quiet moan escaped your lips as his lips traveled to your collarbone, each kiss sending shivers of electricity down your spine. His touch was slow, deliberate, and as his fingers slid to the top of your robe, you could feel the tension in the air tighten around you.

"After you opened the door and I came to warn you about the coven’s plans..." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as his hand lingered at the top of your robe, barely brushing your skin. He moved his lips over your neck, your jaw, finally finding yours in a deep, searching kiss. "I couldn't prevent it."

His kiss grew more intense, and you wanted to ask him why—why didn’t he stop? Why hadn’t you left? But before you could, his lips silenced you, pressing against yours as his other hand slipped beneath your waist, pulling your body flush against his. The warmth between you overwhelmed everything else, leaving you breathless and speechless, caught in the weight of the moment.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You needed him in that moment, more than anything else in the world. Everything else—the journalist in your house, the unfinished conversation, the looming threats and dangers—disappeared. None of it mattered.

The only thing that existed was him—his touch, his lips, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. Your mind raced with thoughts of him, drowning out every other sound, every other thought. Nothing else mattered. Just him. The feeling of him. The weight of his presence. That was all there was.

You felt his hand pull away from your chest, and a soft, frustrated sound escaped your lips in protest. But before you could voice more, he guided his wrist to your mouth. His eyes never left yours, dark and full of unspoken intentions.

You knew exactly what he wanted—what both of you craved. His pulse throbbed beneath your lips, and without hesitation, you sank your fangs into his wrist, the familiar, cinnamon taste of his blood filling your senses. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. The warm droplets fell from your chin, tracing down your neck and chest, as you drank deeply, savoring every drop. His blood was always sweeter than you remembered, more potent, more familiar than anything else.

It felt like home.

You couldn't stop. Every drop of his blood filled you with a rush of heat, the world around you starting to blur as your senses sharpened. Your eyes closed instinctively, your head tilting back as pleasure coursed through you. His blood was intoxicating, and you were lost in it, unable to think of anything else.

The soft moans and whimpers escaping from Armand only pushed you further, each sound making you crave him more. You heard his voice, faint and distant, but it barely registered as you kept drinking, the taste of him flooding your senses. His hands gripped you, but you hardly noticed, lost in the sensation of him.

You wanted more. Needed more. His blood, his presence, it was all that mattered. And for a moment, everything else faded away.

You didn’t know how long it had been—minutes, hours, maybe just seconds—lost in the feeling of his blood coursing through you. All you knew was the way his face shifted when he gently pulled his wrist from your mouth, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His blood still lingered on your tongue, warm and intoxicating, slowly dripping down your chest as you let go of him, your body humming with the aftermath.

He loomed above you, but now his head rested against your chest, seeking solace in the warmth of your skin as his breath steadied. You stroked his hair, fingers threading through his dark curls, trying to ground him as much as yourself.

Your fingers traced the mess on your chest, and without thinking, you brought them to your lips, savoring the last lingering taste of him. The warmth, the sweetness, it felt like the only thing that mattered, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

As Armand rested on you, his breath warm against your chest, the fog in your mind began to clear, just a little. Flashes of the past few hours started to resurface—his visit, the warning about the coven, the tension in the air. It all felt distant, like you were trying to grasp a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto, but there it was. A few more pieces of the puzzle fitting together, the edges blurring into something you could finally begin to understand.

You couldn't remember how many times he'd done this—how many times he'd stepped in to help, to keep you from slipping into that haze, to save you from the things you couldn’t hold onto. Each time, he was there, gently piecing you back together, never asking for much in return. A small knot of guilt twisted in your stomach. Maybe you hadn’t realized how often he’d carried this weight for both of you.

But then you felt his hand tighten around your waist, his presence anchoring you, and that guilt faded away, swallowed by something deeper. It wasn't just about him fixing your memories. It was how, despite everything, he made you feel like you were never truly lost. Like you were still whole, still his.

"Je t’aime chaque jour davantage, Arun," you whispered, the words flowing from your lips like a secret you'd been holding onto for eternity.

Armand lifted his head to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. He was so consumed by you, so focused on every word, every look you gave him, that even the smallest detail, the evidence of your connection, went unnoticed. And for some reason, that made you smile.

"Je t’aime moi aussi, mon cœur," Armand murmured, his voice soft, reverent, as he rested his chin against your chest. His eyes, those dark pools of mystery, were half-lidded, and for a moment, you could see the rawness of his desire in the way his flushed cheeks caught the candlelight, his waves of dark hair falling over his forehead like a veil. The world outside of him and you ceased to exist.

You ran your fingers through his hair, losing yourself in the softness of it, in the way he seemed to melt against you. He was so beautiful, every inch of him a reminder of the eternity you'd spent together. He was warmth and darkness, light and shadow all at once—an enigma you couldn’t unravel, no matter how many lifetimes you lived.

Eternity would never be enough, not when it came to him. You needed him, needed to consume him. To become one with him in every sense of the word. Your lips ached to kiss him, not just his mouth, but his very skin, every inch of him, to touch the bones of him.

And he wanted the same.

You could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, as if his very soul was entwined with yours. What you two shared wasn’t just love. It wasn’t just desire. It was an all-consuming need—an obsession that humans could never truly understand. It was a bond that reached beyond anything they could comprehend, an unspoken language of the heart and mind. You didn’t need to say it; you both knew.

There was no end to it. Only the now. Only him.

"I'm starting to remember," you murmured after a few quiet moments, feeling Armand settle closer beside you. His fingers lazily traced the fabric of your robe, a soft touch that made you feel safe, anchored. "When you came to warn me. It's still a little foggy, but it’s there. I’m sorry I doubted you."

You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you, calm and steady. The fragments were falling into place, his words reassuring you, reminding you of things you hadn't been able to fully grasp. His version of the events felt so right, so natural, and you couldn't help but let the memories shape themselves around what he had shared. You trusted him completely. And yet, beneath it all, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind wondered how easily you’d forgotten things before. But that thought was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it came, leaving you only with the certainty of what Armand had guided you to remember.

"I'm glad you're remembering now," he whispered against your neck, his fangs grazing the delicate skin. "But if you ever forget something, I’ll always be here to help restore your memories."

A smile tugged at your lips as his hand slid beneath your robe, his fangs sinking into your neck, tasting your blood. The sensation was beyond anything you had ever imagined, a pleasure that consumed you completely. You leaned into his touch, surrendering to the feeling of his fangs, the weight of his presence, and the rhythm of his hunger.

With each kiss, each bite, your memories grew clearer. You could recall every detail of that night. Yes. He had come to warn you, just as he had said. Santiago was responsible for Claudia's death, and Lestat had helped orchestrate it. The truth was finally clear to you. You could only trust Armand. Everyone else had betrayed you, deceived you. In his arms, you found safety. On his tongue, you found clarity.

You would never let him go. He was yours, and you were his.

For all eternity.

[sugarushwriting]

ot7 vampire — human blood bank

s2, part 6

master list here

accepting requests and ideas

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

it was past 2 am. silence all throughout the neighborhood. all throughout the house. you slept soundly next to sunghoon, you occasionally twitching in your sleep.

“come to me.”

your eyebrows knitted confusingly in your sleep. behind your eyelids, you saw a dark shadow loom over you. it’s like seeing yourself in third person—an out of body experience.

watching yourself sleep next to sunghoon while this unknown figured stood over you quietly. just observing. just staring.

you couldn’t speak or make any movement.

but the figure’s outline was similar to ni-ki’s build. you gasped. it was ni-ki!

except when he turned around from your sleeping figure, he was ni-ki but he didn’t look like ni-ki.

blood covered his mouth, dripping down his chin. shirt covered in blood. fangs extended, pointy and ready to pounce on his next meal.

irises red and dark as the blood worn on his clothes. hair a mess, as if someone had been tugging at it. like pushing him away. his smile, eerie, unsettling, and nightmarish.

it gave you chills.

before you could react, ni-ki had you pinned against the wall, you unable to move. you couldn’t scream. you couldn’t move your limbs. you were helpless.

ni-ki’s nose ran against the length of your neck, teasing his fangs against your skin. ni-ki smiled against your skin, his teeth poking through your flesh.

you awoke with a scream, so blood curdling, you sure it woke up any sleeping animals nearby.

sunghoon sat up quickly, ready to fight and protect.

your hand rested on your chest, sobs breaking out of you, your chest heavy, you hyperventilating.

“calm down, baby, it’s okay, i’m here!” sunghoon tried to soothe you, but you fought him. he tried to hold and comfort you, but you pushed him away, thrashing at the covers, still fighting the demon you saw in your nightmare.

it didn’t take long before the 5 boys came running to sunghoon’s room—jay, heeseung, jake, jungwon, and sunoo.

all with confused, frightened, and terror written all over their faces.

you knew it was them, but all you could see was ni-ki’s frightening smile.

you started pulling at the shirt you was wearing, suddenly feeling claustrophobic as if you were being choked.

“love!” jay’s voice was deafening. his tone deeper, more authoritative to get you to snap out of this state of pain from your nightmare.

soon you stopped any screaming, yelping, crying, or any other noises. your face hid behind your hands as you sobbed quietly.

the boys were at a lost of words and what to do. how to comfort you. they didn’t want to startle you.

jay turned to some of the guys, “heeseung and jungwon, come with me. we’ll look over the premises to see if anything got too close to comfort on our property that shouldn’t have.”

jay was now worried. worried that something had also gotten to you. because sakura had reached out again, worried out of her wits.

jungwon and heeseung went with the older, as sunoo and jake stayed behind to keep you company with sunghoon.

“i’ll go get her some water and wet rags.” jake offered and walked out the room. you were a sweating mess.

sunoo observed you carefully, his sensitivity meter going way off. he felt so many emotions from you.

fear. anxiety. sadness. despair. confusion.

sunoo went to whisper your name as gentle as possible but you flinched.

flinched at sweet, innocent, caring sunoo.

sunghoon and sunoo exchanged a glance of puzzlement.

what or who got you so worked up?

outside the home, the three others found nothing. no footprints, no smells that didn’t belong, nothing.

“there’s nothing out here, jay!” jungwon called out.

jay nodded in agreement and the three went back in the house to check on you.

meanwhile ni-ki hid in the shadows, his powers masking his scent from anyone he was trying to hide from.

he didn’t mean to scare you. he promise he didn’t. you were just so alluring.

meanwhile behind ni-ki stood sunwoo. sunwoo with a sinful smile.

soon, you would belong to sunwoo and his kind.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you awoke with a pounding headache the next morning. you were alone in sunghoon’s bedroom. for no reason at all, your heart started to race.

fear.

“sunghoon!” you yelled scared.

in no time, sunghoon had his door open, running to your side asking you what was wrong.

“i—i don’t know why im so fearful all of a sudden. im sorry!” you sobbed out an apology.

“no need to be sorry, babydoll. you’ve had a terrible night.” sunghoon comforted you and was happy that you finally let one of them do so.

you sobbed in his shoulder, gripping onto his body tight, afraid he might leave you to become a victim of something.

“babydoll, jay is going to want to know what happened.” sunghoon said patting your head. he used a thumb to wipe away a tear of yours.

you nodded in understanding. “i know, but how do i even explain something that i don’t even understand myself?”

sunghoon looked at you lovingly with worry. “what do you remember?” he whispered.

“i just remember being scared and fearful for my life. uncomfortable, like i was being watched from every angle.” you tried to explain.

sunghoon listened carefully, but it didn’t help that you didn’t even know what you saw.

“where is jay?” you asked.

“he went to talk with sakura and the other girls. something happened last night.” sunghoon explained.

you gasped. “what?”

sunghoon sighed. “garam, one of the girls claims she woke up in the middle of the night and found some guy standing at the edge of eunchae’s bed staring at her.”

“oh my!” you got goosebumps all over your body. “does she know who it was?”

sunghoon shook his head. “no, but sakura is worried it might’ve been ni-ki, although she can’t be sure.”

“why would she think that?”

sunghoon shrugged. “she just said that garam felt vampire vibes and the dude had dark hair but that was it. jay went to see if he could feel a linger of ni-ki in their house.”

“jay has to believe something if he even went to their house.”

“you’re right. jay does believe something is going on. he said the other day, he just unconsciously tried to read sakura’s thoughts and he could. that could only mean the tea they’re drinking isn’t working anymore.”

sunghoon explained more how the girls started to have personal items go missing and feeling sick more often. mainly eunchae. eunchae has became sickly the past week, paler each day, losing energy and being less like her self.

“what is jay going to do?”

“we have a guesthouse in the back. it’s still within our boundaries we’d be able to feel anything out of the ordinary. he’s gonna have them stay there.”

you nodded. this should be fun.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

later that day, you peeped from the back window of the library, watching jay, heeseung, jake, jungwon, and sunghoon move in the seraphim girls.

jay laughed at what sakura was saying. sunghoon making intense eye contact with zuha with a smile.

you swallowed a lump in your throat, suddenly feeling many emotions at once.

mainly jealousy.

but why? could it be because of jay and sunghoon’s past with sakura and kazhua?

but you knew those girls were no longer interested in those boys, at all. however, you couldn’t say the same about the boys.

“watcha looking at sweetheart?” ni-ki’s deep voice sounded from behind you.

you ignored him, continuing to stare out the window. jay could feel something, and when he looked up, he saw you staring back at him.

but what he saw behind you nearly terrified him. a dark shadow figure with red eyes, but then, it turned into ni-ki.

now he was seeing things. jay waved up at you, but you didn’t wave back. ni-ki did, with a smirk.

“worried your boy toys will find new play things?” ni-ki teased, “mhm, maybe now you can leave and get out of this arrangement like you wanted years ago”

you turned around, rolled your eyes at ni-ki, and pushed past him, out the library. sunoo was leaning against the wall, opposite of the library door way.

he smiled when he saw you, but then frowned seeing ni-ki.

sunoos radar was going off with ni-ki, but the worst thing was, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“hey, you excited for the seraphims to be our new neighbors?” sunoo smiled brightly.

“not really.” you mumbled. sunoo frowned once again. your energy had gone down tremendously, jealousy and anger becoming a strong emotion of yours. it wasn’t like you at all.

ni-ki stayed silent behind you with a smile.

“are you okay?” sunoo asked carefully.

“not really.” you sighed. “i’m going for a walk—alone. i’ll be okay.” you quickly stated before sunoo could offer to come with or mention talking to jay or sunghoon first.

quickly making your way down the steps, you went out the front door, and made your way down the road for a quick walk.

you needed to try and get your emotions under control. you didn’t understand why you were feeling this way.

it’s not pregnancy hormones—they can’t get you pregnant.

it’s not your menstrual cycle—you honestly haven’t had that in a while (thank heavens!)

could it be a mental health thing? you were never officially diagnosed, but mental health did run in your family.

maybe anxiety? depression? bipolar? you didn’t want to diagnose yourself, knowing it was more complicated than some symptoms.

you were too in thought talking to yourself, you didn’t notice yourself being followed.

you hadn’t even noticed you made your way to the tree line near the forest were you caught ni-ki and those other vampires feeding.

“how the heck did i get here?” you gasped. it’s like you subconsciously came here.

a shadow stepped from behind a tree. dark hair, full lips. it was one of the vampires you saw that day.

you went to step back once, but he easily caught up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you still.

he tsked, “don’t think about it. you scream, i rip your throat out.”

you inhaled deeply. “i—i wasn’t.”

you was.

“ni-ki was right, you are a terrible liar.”

then the boy scolded down to you like you were a child. he even addressed you by name.

the thing was, ni-ki never told them your name. but you didn’t know that.

“who are you?”

“my name is sunwoo.” he smiled, slightly showing off his fangs.

“hi sunwoo, can you let me go now?” you asked trying to pull away but failed.

“mhm, no, i think i’ll keep you.”

“ni-ki knows i went out for a walk. he’ll notice i was gone too long and notify the others.”

“you sure about that?” sunwoo stated, your full name ending the sentence.

once again, you gulped. “huh?”

“how do you think i knew your name? this was all part of ni-ki’s game. i knew you followed him that one day to the woods.” sunwoo rattled off. he unwrapped his hand from your waist, instead circling you like prey.

“that’s—a lie!”

“it’s not, pretty. you saw what ni-ki does with us. did he tell you he killed a poor runaway the other day?” sunwoo laughed.

ni-ki killed someone? no, no that can’t be! you couldn’t believe it. you didn’t want to believe it.

but you saw what he can do. the damage he can do when he’s out of control.

“what does this have to do with me?”

“oh sweetheart, you’re gonna be my new favorite feeding station.”

“to hell i am!” you yelled. you went to push him, but he quickly caught you by your wrist.

“not a smart move.” he gritted, his irises turning red, the rest of his eyes, black.

sunwoo quickly wrapped his elbow against your neck and began choking you. not enough to kill you, but enough to make you pass out.

[girlwithadragonheart]

Chapter 11 - A Touch of Spite

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Kalais x Lucanis

Summary: Now that Lucanis has finally admitted his feelings, Spite wants a turn with Rook. Rook and Lucanis plan to crash a party

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing, tension

A/N: I have nothing to say about this one. Just enjoy

Chapter 10 DATV Masterlist Chapter 12

After speaking with Solas and then the rest of the team, I sat alone in my room. The Lighthouse was quiet, and for once, my mind mirrored that silence.

The reflections of the aquarium moved across the room, painting it in a blue-green glow. I was sitting on the edge of my bed-slash-sofa, lost in the movements of the fish behind the glass, when a knock came at the door---soft, tentative, yet deliberate.

I frowned slightly. No one usually came to my room this late. Rising cautiously, I padded over and cracked the door open.

“Lucanis?” His silhouette filled the doorway, but something was off. His usual composed demeanor was absent, replaced by a strange energy that seemed to hum in the air between us. His gaze lifted to meet mine, and I froze. 

His eyes were glowing---that deep, eerie purple that sent a shiver down my spine.

Not Lucanis.

“Mischief, what are you---”

Before I could finish my sentence, his lips were on mine. It was sudden, insistent, and unlike anything I’d experienced before. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, and though I should have pushed him away, my body hesitated.

“My turn.” Spite growled, his voice rougher and more gravelly than Lucanis’s. His lips moved with open-mouthed kisses up my jaw and down my neck. His kisses turned from lips to teeth, biting and sucking at my skin as his hands roamed, sliding down my back, his touch possessive in a way that left no doubt who was in control.

I tried to pull away, but my back hit the wall, and I was caged. “Spite---” I managed to gasp, my voice trembling with confusion and a flicker of something else I couldn’t quite name.

He pulled back, just enough to meet my gaze, his smirk predatory. “You want this,” he hissed, hand skimming lower, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of my clothes. He tucked his nose into the crook between my neck and shoulder. “I can. Smell you.” He took a deep inhale, and my heart pounded in my chest, anticipation building in me.

I felt a rush of conflicting emotions---fear, anger, compassion, and lust that I couldn’t quite hate myself for. My heart raced as he kissed me again, his mouth demanding in a way that sent a flush of warmth coursing through me.

His hands pried apart the buttons of my shirt without care, the rough calluses on his palms dragging against my sides as he bared me from the waist up.

Before things could spiral further, his body stiffened, and his grip on me faltered. His hands dropped, and he stepped back, a deep gasp escaping him as if he were pulling himself out of deep water.

“Kalais?” Lucanis’s voice was hoarse, his expression twisted with confusion and horror as he blinked down at me. His eyes, now their usual dark brown, darted between my face and his own hands, as if trying to piece together what had happened. “Did he---” he cut himself off, his voice dropping to a pained whisper. “Did Spite hurt you?”

“No, no,” I said quickly, raising my hands to calm him. He was already backing away, his body rigid, his expression stricken. I felt a light draft, causing goosebumps to prickle my chest, and I realized I was still half indecent. I quickly pulled my shirt back together, clasping the buttons.

“I didn’t---” his words were strangled, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Lucanis, stop,” I said, stepping forward, my voice trembling. “He didn’t hurt me. He just… he kissed me. And touched me, but… but not like that.”

His brow furrowed, watching as my hands buttoned up my shirt, a storm in his eyes. I hated the pain I saw there.

“I swear, I’m okay,” I continued, forcing the words out even as my cheeks burned with shame. “He shouldn’t have done that without talking to us first,” I said carefully. “I just wish…” I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What?” He asked, his voice low, careful, as if bracing for what I might say next.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I wish you had been the first one to touch me like that,” I said in earnest.

His eyes widened, the words catching him off guard, and for a long moment, neither of us spoke.

“Kalais,” he said finally, his voice raw with a mixture of emotions I couldn’t quite parse. “I… I don’t understand. How could you---” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.

I took a breath, lest I break down like this in front of him. One of us had to keep it together at all times. “It’s not a secret I care about both of you. Spite was never even…” I paused, searching for the right words. “Given a chance to be seen as anything other than what that place made him- made you. It hurt both of you, that doesn’t make him inherently evil,” I explained. “But… But he should have talked to us about it first.” My thoughts were racing and my tongue seemed to move with them before I could stop. “I want you… and that means I want him too, but…”

“But what?” Lucanis asked, looking astonished, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I want you to be my first,” I said quietly. “I’m not… experienced.”

I watched Lucanis’s cheeks dust pink, and he glanced away. “Oh.”

Lucanis’s stunned expression lingered as he processed my words. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, a sharp contrast to the earlier intensity with Spite. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first, his jaw working silently before he managed a shaky breath.

“I… didn’t realize,” he admitted softly, his voice low and cautious. His gaze flicked back to me, his brown eyes searching mine. “You’ve always seemed so confident. I never would’ve guessed…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair again, clearly out of his depth.

“That I’m a virgin?” I laughed slightly, my cheeks warming as I wrapped my arms around myself. “I guess I’m good at pretending,” I said with a small, self-conscious shrug. 

Lucanis frowned, his expression clouding with guilt. “Kalais, I… I don’t know what to say. I’m angry at him for not giving us a choice, for doing this to you. But…” His voice softened as his gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t want him to… mess this up. For us.”

I stepped closer, my hand brushing against his arm, trying to draw his attention back to me. “He won’t,” I said firmly. “I trust you, Lucanis. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t. I’ll talk to him.”

His eyes snapped to mine at that, a flicker of something vulnerable flashing across his face. He swallowed hard, visibly gathering himself. “You trust me,” he repeated, the words almost reverent. He exhaled shakily and reached for my hand, his fingers curling around mine with a gentleness that made my heart ache.

“I do,” I whispered, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

For a moment, he said nothing, just holding my hands as if grounding himself in the simple connection. Then, he let out a low, humorless laugh. “You make it sound so easy,” he muttered, his lips quirking in a wry, self-deprecating smile.

“It is,” I said simply, echoing the words I’d spoken to him before. “At least for me.”

Lucanis’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You deserve better than this,” he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt. “Better than me… better than Spite…”

I shook my head, cutting him off. “Don’t decide what I deserve for me,” I said firmly. “I’m not looking for perfect, Lucanis. I’m looking for you. And I don’t regret anything that’s happened. I just… want us to figure this out together.”

His gaze softened at that, the storm in his eyes quieting just slightly. “You’re too good to me,” he said quietly, a faint, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips.

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” I countered, stepping closer until we were only a breath apart. “You’re not responsible for Spite’s choices, Lucanis. And you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I’m here. For both of you.”

Lucanis stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he raised his free hand to cup my cheek, his touch achingly gentle. “You’re incredible,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over my skin.

I felt my breath catch, my heart pounding in my chest as his gaze bore into mine. “Someone has to be the voice of reason around here,” I whispered.

His lips curved into a small, genuine smile---a rare, unguarded moment that made my chest ache. He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.

“We’ll figure this out,” I murmured, my voice a low promise. “Together.”

“Together,” he echoed, the word steady and full of hope.

For now, that was enough.

❈❈❈

Lucanis sat on the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, hands raking through his hair as he fought to keep his emotions in check. His heart was still racing, the memory of Kalais’s flushed face, her trembling voice, and the sight of her fumbling to button her shirt playing on a loop in his mind. His fists clenched involuntarily, nails biting into his palms. The tightness in his pants certainly didn’t solve any problems.

“You’re quiet,” Spite’s gravely voice broke through the tension, the tone almost teasing. “Regretting already?”

Lucanis’s jaw tightened, refusing to look at the aspect of himself leaning against the wall. Spite had no right to bring her into this. Not now. Not after what he’d done. “What the hell were you thinking?” Lucanis snapped, his voice low but seething. He pushed himself to his feet and started pacing, the energy humming under his skin demanding release. “You can’t just… take over and do that. You violated her trust, Spite.”

“She. Wanted it,” Spite replied smoothly, his voice echoing in Lucanis’s mind like an unwelcome shadow. “Wanted more.”

Lucanis spun on his heel, eyes narrowing as he glared at Spite. “Wanting something and being ready for it are not the same thing!” Lucanis growled, pointing at him. “Consent, Spite. It’s not just some formality you can skip because you think you know better. You ask. You wait.”

Spite scoffed, his voice rich with disdain. “Ask? Why? Rook. Wanted it. Her body. Sang.”

Lucanis’s fists clenched again, but he forced himself to take a steadying breath. “It’s not just about what you think you can sense, Spite,” he said tightly. “It’s about respect. About giving her the chance to choose for herself. You took that away from her tonight.”

Silence followed his words, heavy and oppressive. For a moment, Lucanis wondered if Spite would retreat, slinking back into the recesses of his mind to avoid this confrontation. But when had he ever done that? It was always harsh words and angry tones flung between the two of them. Never civility. The Ossuary had stolen that from them both. At least with each other.

Instead, his voice came back, quieter this time. “I’m not used to… Asking,” Spite admitted begrudgingly. “This. Is new. For me too.”

Lucanis paused, the raw honesty in Spite’s tone catching him off guard. He folded his arms, his anger dimming just enough to allow a sliver of understanding. He didn’t know how spirits or demons experienced affection or lust besides the obviously lustful kind of spirit or demon. He wondered briefly if his own feelings were starting to bleed into the demon from their time together.

“Well, it matters now,” he said firmly. “Kalais isn’t some toy for you to play with. She’s a person. Someone we both care about.”

“She cares. About us. Both.”

Lucanis exhaled, the weight of the night pressing heavily on his shoulders. “She does,” he admitted softly. “But that doesn’t mean you can ignore her boundaries, Spite. If you want her to trust you---to trust us---then you have to respect her choices.”

Spite’s aspect, the purple glow surrounding him, flickered, dimming slightly. “If I. Don’t?” Spite asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Lucanis’s expression hardened. “Then you lose her,” he said simply. “Because I won’t let you hurt her again. I’ll find a way to keep you from taking over if I have to.”

The threat hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Spite growled softly, but it wasn’t the defiant sound Lucanis expected. It was almost… thoughtful.

“I’ll try,” Spite said at last, the words begrudging. “But. I want. My turn.”

Lucanis’s brow furrowed, and he turned away, pacing again. “Your turn?”

“Yes,” Spite replied. “You’re awake. During the day. You get Rook. I only have. The night.”

Lucanis’s teeth ground together, the idea setting him on edge. But he could feel Spite’s determination, the tenuous thread of compromise dangling between them. He thought of Kalais, her words echoing in his mind: I’m here. For both of you.

“Fine,” Lucanis said finally, his voice sharp as he crossed his arms. “But there are rules. When I’m awake, she’s mine. You stay out of it. And when she’s asleep, you leave her alone. She needs her rest, Spite.”

“And when. You sleep?” Spite pressed, his voice low and coaxing.

Lucanis hesitated, his mind warring with itself. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. “You can… spend time with her. If you respect her boundaries. No more taking over without permission. You want her trust? Earn it.”

His purple glow brightened briefly, then dimmed again. “Deal,” Spite said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction.

Lucanis sank back onto his cot as Spite disappeared from view. He didn’t fully trust Spite---he doubted he ever would. But for now, it was a start.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Lucanis muttered under his breath, staring at the ceiling.

❈❈❈

I wandered to the kitchen for a bite to eat after blissfully uninterrupted sleep. No god of lies, no spirits, no people, and lots of healing rest.

“Good. You’re here,” Lucanis said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“A note from Viago.”

“Illario’s making his move?” 

Lucanis nodded. “A big one. He’s hosting all the Talons of the Crows at Caterina’s villa.”

“That means the finest wine, and an even finer banquet,” I said.

“You deserve better than anything at Illario’s table,” Lucanis told me seriously.

“I’ll let you re-educate my palate. Once we’re out the other side,” I grinned.

“We have to do this carefully. Illario has to be expecting us,” Lucanis said.

“You think he knows that we know about him and Elgar’nan?” I asked.

Lucanis smirked, “He knows we know about him and Zara. After your gracious display of threatening him. He wouldn’t be avoiding us otherwise. Be ready for a trap.”

“I always am,” I told him. “Are you… Are you and Spite okay?”

“We’ve come to… an agreement,” he said carefully.

I nodded slowly. “Okay… Should I be worried?”He reached up, fingers playing through the ends of my hair. “Do not worry, mi diosa. I can handle Spite.” His fingers brushed under my jaw, tipping my chin up. I shivered. “You should worry about Teia. Viago said she’s inconsolable with preparations for Illario’s banquet. Knowing her, she has a plan to get us in.”

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

A/N: I have planssss >:3

As always, let me know if you want to be on the Lucanis tag list or the tag list for this series!!

Tags: @encrytpta

[alwaysthefool]

House of Horrors (x Xavier)

Tags: Comfort, action, MC Reader, GN Reader

Warnings: scary, long, violence mention

Synopsis: You see just how much Xavier tries to keep you safe during and after a mission.

Happy late Halloween 🎃?

This one was meant to be a solo mission, and Xavier, though he would always come with you if he knew, was deployed elsewhere. The circumstances surrounding the mission were odd; firstly, Jenna was on a break so it was handed to you by the robots in charge, and secondly, this was unlike any mission you’d had before.

Some tourists went missing after booking a house for their stay, and the investigation team reported strange happenings in the house, outside the gambit of police as it seemed to have something to do with Wanderers. Things weren’t too busy in Linkon either so it was confusing as to why you had to handle it alone. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to bother Xavier, so you informed Nero and Tara that you’d be going alone.

Although, as you parked your car in the driveway of the western-style , secluded from the bustling city and dark already at 6PM, you felt an urge to text Xavier, frowning when you noticed there was no service in the area, and even your hunter’s watch wasn’t functioning. That should have been your first cue to leave, but you were informed this was typical— which is where your evol would come in handy in checking for metaflux fluctuations.

Plus, in the house’s and probably your defense, it was well maintained from the outside and there were functioning CCTVs, just secluded. The tourists wouldn’t have suspected anything wrong, it was just the knowledge and silence thereafter that scared you.

You turned to open the electronic lock with the code given to you, but the door creaked open by itself.

I have a gun, you reminded yourself, heading inside.

The living room was covered in police tapes, the vintage furniture covered in plastic. You felt around the dark room for the light switch, but upon turning it off and on, it seemed to be non-working. You expected that too, so you relied on your torch.

It almost felt like ghost-hunting as you walked around the eerie house feeling for any hint of metaflux, your heart rate increasing for no apparent reason. Although your watch couldn’t sense Metaflux or send any signals, it depicted your blood pressure as ‘extremely high’, advising you to sit down. Given your syndrome, you should have, but you only had the basement left.

You climbed down the first floor, back to the living room, feeling something amiss, as if something had moved, or was different from before. You were also certain you left the front door open, but it was now shut. You chalked it off, pulling out your gun, as you found the door to the basement.

You knew it’d be dark, but even with the torch, you could barely see the stairs. You carefully took your first step down when the door behind you slammed shut.

Fuck.

The only way now was further down.

And with what you could hear, there was definitely something else there.

You gulped, every step a screeching creak, the scent of rot hijacking your nose. You didn’t dare use your peripheral vision, or look behind you for you were sure something was surrounding you. When you reached the floor and shone your flashlight, there was nothing to be seen. Quite literally, no light penetrated the basement, from where, amidst the terrorising feelings of fear and dizziness, you sensed it.

A Wanderer.

You couldn’t shoot shots into the dark, neither could you go back up, so you took a single step into the dark, trying to rely on your other senses.

Terrible idea. The logical voice in your head spoke.

You felt something grab your ankle in the pitch dark, dragging you at high speed. You let out a scream, hastily reaching for your gun which was knocked out of your hand by something sharp.

“Let me go!” You screamed, pushing at whatever held you. It lifted you up by the foot but you managed to land a shot somewhere on it, making it let you go. You fell face first, terrified, scrambling, reaching for where you dropped your torch, the only hint of light in the room. You managed to reach the basement steps, before being tripped and pulled back.

“Xavier!” You cried, your hand holding on the floorboard with dear life. You didn’t know why you called for him of all people, at the darkest moment of your life too. Your heart pleaded for him to be somewhere close by, regretting not taking him with you, hoping he’d be his stubborn self and look for you anyway.

“I’m here.” He replied, his strong hand taking yours and drawing you into the light. He pulled you safely behind him, his evol lighting up the basement. The Wanderer howled at the light, trying to hide in corners, behind the dryer, but Xavier was onto him within seconds, blazing sword slicing him into dust. With a final screech, the being fell, leaving only a Protocore behind.

Xavier let it fall to the floor, rushing back to you, holding you tightly in a protective hug. You held him back, scared, crying on his chest, letting down how brave you had tried to be.

“You’re here.” You sobbed, and he stroked your hair, shushing you gently, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re hurt.” He pulled away to look at your face in concern. You noticed his white coat covered in blood, and wondered what a mess you must have been looking like. Xavier carried you in his arms, outside, to the car, and although the Wanderer was gone, you did not dare look at the house, choosing to bury your head in his neck instead.

You were taken to the nearest hospital, doctors taking you to a bed to examine the wounds. Xavier decided to give you privacy, but you held his hand, not able to say you needed him with you. He sat beside you, squeezing your hand back, silently reassuring you he’d stay with you. His face never left yours as you were covered in small bandages. Your ankle was also dislocated, but luckily you didn’t sustain any other major injuries.

Xavier took you home, listening to the doctors and buying your medicines on the way back, and it broke your heart as you reached your front door, where you knew his hand would finally leave yours.

“I’ll be up if you need anything.” He spoke softly. You could tell he wanted to scold you for not informing him where you were going before, but you were already visibly traumatised to the point you let go of all shame and almost pleaded to him, your face a sure mess with puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Xavier looked at you with care and love, giving you a gentle nod. “Then I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”

You nodded, allowing him to go get his things while you showered and got rid of the blood on your face. You were right, you did look filthy. If it was anyone else, would they have put up with your clinginess? Maybe Xavier just had a lot of patience.

Showering felt like a terrifying task, you having to constantly watch for any sounds or discrepancies, even looking into the mirror afterwards feeling difficult.

Thankfully, Xavier was already outside, with dinner on the coffee table. You practically ran to him, and he was more than happy to pull you into a hug. Although he’d never done it before, he kept you on his lap, turning on the TV to your favourite comfort movie.

“Thank you.” You rested your head on his chest, accepting when he fed you popcorn with his hand. He laughed at that.

“This is the first time you’re the one being clingy to me.”

“I’m being clingy?” You lifted your head up, eyes droopy. Xavier pulled you in his embrace again immediately. “But I like it.”

“Get used to it,” you leaned into him more, snuggling as he wrapped a blanket around the two of you. “Because I’m never going on a mission without you again.”

[anachronistic-falsehood]

the part of roier’s stream where i lost my absolute mind

[zharizard666]

[cetoddle-archive]

public bathrooms are so so scary

[clownwritesfanfic]

So Come One, Come All - Five Hargreeves X GN! Reader

Summary: After you find out that your husband of 40 years cheated on you with his own brother’s wife, you give up on figuring out how to fix the apocalypse and run off. That’s when you’re lead to a suspicious deli full of the exact face you never wanted to see again.

Word count: 1647

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Cheating, Heartbreak, Happy Ending, rushed writing, not beta read we die like men

Disclaimer: Five is canonically in the body of an 18 year old in this season. Not to mention he aged like 7 more years with Lila. Also, obvious Season 4 spoilers. This season was awful and Five was done so dirty and he’s still ooc in this fic (or at least a version of him is)

———————————————————————

You had no idea how long you had been walking for. All you knew was that you were tired.

Tired of everything. Of the constant apocalypses, the fighting, the stress, …the lying, the heartache. Everything.

You had to get away from that place. You couldn’t stand to be around anyone from that family anymore. Around…him.

You and Five have been married for forty years. You both met in the first apocalypse as teens. You weren’t special like him or his siblings but you were both grateful to have someone else around.

You slowly fell in love over the years as you grew older together. You had a makeshift marriage with a ring Five had made for you out of random bits of metal he had found.

You had both been recruited into the Commission together and quickly became the most badass couple in the entire organization. You were always put on missions together for your efficiency and speed.

You had followed Five back in time to see his family, consequently getting stuck in your younger body as well. You followed him everywhere. You would’ve given your life for him.

So, how could he do this to you?

Forty years, thrown away all because he supposedly got stuck for seven fucking years in a stupid timeline traveling subway station with another woman.

You wanted to kill him. He knew that you didn’t like how comfortable Lila was with him since the beginning and he had assured you he wasn’t interested in her at all and that you were all he wanted. What a load of bullshit that was.

You had left after their explanation. You saw the way he looked at her. The exact same way he used to look at you. For him at had been years since he last saw you. For you, it had only been a few hours since he last looked at you like you were the world.

You had slipped off the wedding ring and threw it at his face before leaving. You could hear him trying to get you to stay and try to follow you but he was stopped by Diego.

You were so lost in thought before you found yourself in front of the entrance to a subway station. This must be the one they were talking about. You looked behind you, making sure no one had followed you but also as a way to look back on this life.

If they were telling the truth about the timelines…then you weren’t going to be coming back to this one. Maybe there is a timeline where you’re happy. One where you and Five don’t meet. Or maybe one where none of this happens. Where you’re both a normal married couple.

You took a deep breath as you gazed down the steps. Once you took your first step down, you knew there was no going back.

As you descended the steps, the eerie silence unnerved you. You could hear only your footsteps on the ground and the squeaking of the turnstile as you pushed through it.

You were startled by the sound of the speakers playing some sort of announcement. It was impossible to understand considering it was all backwards.

Soon, the subway entered the station and came to a halt. The doors opened and you stood still, you were still a little creeped out. Five always made you feel more comfortable in situations like this…but he wasn’t here anymore.

You swallowed your unease and entered the subway car. You slowly took a seat and looked around before the doors closed and the subway started moving. You looked out the window as flashes of colour went by.

You were there for a couple minutes before you stopped. The doors opened but you didn’t get up. You weren’t sure if you wanted to get off yet. You wanted to be sure you were as far from the timeline you were just in as possible.

You felt something pull inside of you though. Something wanted you to get off and explore. So you did.

You let yourself be guided by this feeling deep inside. It was like your heart was pulling you somewhere.

It isn’t long until you end up in front of a building of some kind. Could you even call it that? You never left the station and it’s the only other place in here. Is it more of a building in a building? You didn’t want to think about it too much.

The words “Max’s Delicatessen” were shining brightly in your face. You were a little amused. Maybe you were hungry and it was actually your stomach bringing you here rather than your heart.

You sighed and decided to check it out.

But when you entered, you were horrified at what you saw.

The entire deli was full of copies of your (now ex) husband. This was the last thing you wanted to see and you internally cursed at your conscious for bringing you here.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up and your breathing become heavy as tears pricked at your eyes.

Finally, one of the Five’s had looked up and noticed you stuck in place at the door.

“Darling!” He shot up out of his seat, audibly hitting his knee on the table but he didn’t flinch.

Suddenly, every single Five in the place had his eyes on you, each with various emotions displayed on their face.

The Five that spotted you quickly made his way over to you. He lifted his shaking hands and held them over your cheeks, too scared to make contact in case you fade away.

You could see the disbelief and love in his eyes. This snapped you out of your confusion and slapped his hands away from you and backed yourself up into the door.

The Five in front of you looked confused and hurt before sighing and lowering his hands.

“Sorry…I forgot that you’re not the same one.” He apologized.

“What the FUCK is going on?” You exclaimed as you looked around to be met with all the Five’s still staring at you. “How did you get here? Why are there multiples of you? Why can’t you just leave me alone!”

“Woah, woah, slow down. Breathe. You’re okay. Everything’s fine.” The Five in front of you tried to calm you down. “You took the subway right? This is a different timeline. We’re all the same person from different timelines. Usually the only new people that enter here are a version of me…or…us I guess. You’re the only…well…you, that has shown up here.” He explained.

“What?” You looked at him like he was crazy.

“They should sit down.” Another Five had said.

“Come on, hun. Come sit down and we can talk.” He had reached out towards you, careful not to touch you while he guided you towards the opposite end of the booth he was previously at.

You sat down, still in shock. It felt weird being surrounded by so many Five’s. Especially when you were trying to get away from him.

“I guess I’ll start.” Five had sat down across from you and sighed.

“In my timeline, you and I had been together for years. We met at the Commission. At first we hated each other but we were always put on missions together. Over time…I had fallen for you, and luckily for me, you reciprocated those feelings. We were together romantically for years. We were on our last mission before our contract with the Commission ended. We were planning on getting married after and retiring somewhere nice. But…it went wrong…and I lost you. You died in my arms.” He looked off to the side and tried to play off wiping away his tears.

“I haven’t seen you in years. You’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He reached a hand across the table and gently placed it on yours.

You teared up as you saw the pure love in his eyes. Your Five used to look at you like that and it still hurt knowing he no longer felt that way.

“If you’re here…then something must’ve happened to the Five in your timeline.” He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

You stilled and took your hand back, making the Five in front of you frown.

You hugged your torso for comfort and curled in on yourself slightly as you looked down at the table.

“We were married for forty years…but he got stuck in the subway with Lila and…I guess forty years didn’t mean anything because in seven years he threw it all away for…her.” You hiccuped as you tried to hold back your tears.

There were multiple grumbles and scoffs around the deli.

The Five across from you reached across the table and held your shoulder gaining your attention.

“Everyone here had a version of you in their timeline. We all lost you in one way or another. I think I speak for all of us when I say…having you here is the best thing to happen to us, and he’s a complete idiot for throwing you away like that.” He smiled as he lightly caressed your cheek.

You smiled slightly at his words.

“Aww there’s that beautiful smile.” Five said as he lightly pinched your cheek.

You giggled and batted his hand away and wiped your tears away.

A sandwich and drink was placed in front of you and you looked up to another Five holding a now empty tray.

“Your favourite, just the way you like it.” He said as he gently grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it with a wink.

You blushed at the action and thanked him.

Even though you got on that train in order to get away from him…you don’t think you’ll be getting back on any time soon.

[iceunhie]

— KISSES OR KISSES? : honkai star rail

premise. testing out your new lipstick is no fun (normally), so what better way to make use of it by kissing your lover senseless? not to mention, leaving a little something behind.... (aka, lipstick kisses with them.)

ft. blade, dan heng, boothill, dr. ratio, aventurine !

warnings: feminine reader! reader is ultimately genderless but you may interpret this as fem!reader if you want, reader wears lipstick. nicknames hehe, boothill is his own warning, mid writing tbh, unedited

a/n. the lipstick trend does not escape me at all 😞😞 but this consumed me so now i write about it ijbol

MAIN MASTERLIST || PART 2 (sunday, jing yuan, gallagher, sampo, gepard.)

“what are you doing?”

BLADE ceases all functions. like, immediately.

you'd think he'd even stopped breathing once he'd felt the soft sensation of your lips on his, and the pretty sight of the normally aloof stellaron hunter covered in multiple lipstick kisses all over his face to his neck nearly makes the rest of his other comrades keel over from laughter. his silence is indicative of his rather unusual state of shock, the only indication a menacing furrow of his brows (to an outsider, they'd think he's plotting a murder spree, but you know him too well for that) that twitch and simultaneously react the more you kiss him everywhere on the face.

silverwolf will then relay to you that blade walked around for nearly 5 system hours covered in your... marks of ownership, kafka helpfully supplies, and was only made aware when firefly accidentally bumped into him, face exploding in red when she saw the audacious sight of blade covered in your lipstick. “er, blade.... your face is...”

—

blade has never known mortification quite like today, but the intense feeling of something akin to shame is vivid as he stares at himself in the mirror, glaring.

his face is a mess, to put it simply. trailing a hand on the red stains your lips left on to him leaves him with a smudged countenance, furthering the utter chaos that is his kiss-ridden face.

“...ridiculous girl.” avoiding the uncharacteristic way his fingertips feel hot, blade reckons this is probably why firefly stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, stared, and flustered.

clever as you were, and with your equal penchant for mischief, blade, the ever unsuspecting lover he is (he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch him, but you're not just anyone) had easily become the target of your new tricks.

“pfft, nice get-up, old man. got yourself a good day?”

....so that's what silverwolf meant.

DANHENG immediately scolds you, but not in the serious way he normally does whenever stelle wants to eat an origami bird or dives into trashcans or when march accidentally destroys one of the archive books, but in a way that only dan heng ever shows you. he's red, painfully red, and is struggling to face you because he knows that the smug grin you're holding has to do with the sight he'd glimpsed himself to be in moments prior.

unfortunately for him, for all his ways of trying fervently to remove the lipstick stains plastered all over his face, it only took march one look and a melodramatic gasp before the entire express knew, the conductor included.

—

“dan heng and [name], sitting on a tree-”

“k-i-s-s-i-n-g~”

my friends are all senile, dan heng thinks, rolling his eyes while avoiding himeko's friendly (read: eerie) smile. and he's already given up on trying to meet welt's eyes. (read: concerned but not surprised)

the reason? the rouge tinted matte lipstick generously spread all over dan heng's face, slightly smudged and spanning from his cheeks to his lips, nearing his neck.

he'd never tell, but a part of him—one that was reptilian in nature, a primal need of possessiveness—adored the show of affection you showered upon him. it was only right—he was yours, and you were his.

welt is sheepish, coughing lightly that all five heads of the express members turn to him (pom-pom included) “dan heng, is that your tail wagging?”

“....”

“....”

“....”

(a resounding click! can be heard afrerwards. oh, dan heng is so going to steal march's camera.)

the loud whir of BOOTHILL’s cooling system can't even keep up with how fast he's overheating, because one thing led to another and one look you gave made him weak in the knees and now his body is covered in your kisses, scarlet against the metal gray of his limbs. he no longer has a heart, but the rapid feeling of heat emitted by his body speaks more about his current mental state in more ways than one—he can't even form words because his brain chip is practically glitching itself up into overdrive, because your lips were so warm, soft and gentle and—

“...oothill? boothill? your circuits are—”

a startling sound that sounds just like a mini explosion reverberates somewhere in the tangle of wires near boothill's power source.

oh dear.

( p.s: no warp trotters were harmed, rest assured )

“[name]...” AVENTURINE’s voice falters when you press a soft kiss near his forehead, your lover closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh of joy — a bit like a peacock preening... but in any case! he certainly sees no argument being swayed by you, his dignity in shambles, yes, but when you were showering him with affection like this (which, in all honesty, aventurine did not think he deserved) leaves in in a flushed and tattered mess of a man, whose strings are wholly puppeteered by you and you alone.

you are everything; and aventurine certainly can't get enough. (he doubts if enough will even be enough someday) he's the lover who'd proudly want to flaunt such salacious marks everywhere, though his craftily built reputation as a stoneheart—blood sweat and commodity code and all—leaves him to hide your marks on him, as much as he'd like them to stay. (you are a weakness that aventurine keeps like an oath, and an existence that he'd do anything to keep.)

that doesn't, however, stop him from getting you to leave a kiss near his collar, discreet enough to signal his status as irrevocably, undeniably yours.

DR. VERITAS RATIO is actually the most calm and most normal (read: boring) of all the men above when barraged by your kiss attack. letting out a tsk that's more chiding and speeachless than actually annoyed, he casually pulls you away from his face, nevermind his rapidly heating cheeks, which is only made more humorous given his lipstick stained face.

“stop that. you're making too much of a mess of me, fool.” <- is visibly leaning to your face to allow said actions. you're not fooling anyone here, doctor. smh.

however, he does get pretty flustered when a certain blond gambler notes the new addition of a ‘tattoo’ right near his lower lip. “wow, doctor. seems you woke up on the good side of the bed today.”

he spends a whole day scolding you hoarse afterwards, whatever that may entail ;).

(as a way of petty revenge, he will make sure to kiss you senseless right after, until he's sure his own lips are swollen and covered in the warm red of your chosen shade.)

a/n: blog is running on queue as of today, so this post will probably come wayyy overdue lol but hope u enjoy nonetheless!

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[08luvmailz]

𓇼 ME MISS YOU . . ਏਓ !

summary 𓍯 which he followed you because he missed you ꒰ 🧾 ꒱ fluffy life with husband

The eerie silence and the harsh wind whispers weaving through the cool night air, though it's only 5:30 in the afternoon. Crouching low, I fisted my hands through my victim's hair and chopped his head off as my breath steadied, eyes locked on the faint rustle of the bushes—a promising sign of tonight's catch.

It's been almost a year of this endless cycle, by day cuddling and having a blissful life with Mr. Crawling as you give him endless affection, or he will whine to death, and by night- killing humans to feed him. As your eyes wandered through your vision toward the unmoving dead body, your mind wavered toward your husband even though you weren't married officially.

You two are together and bonded by our souls, obeying you and listening to you even though there is a gap in speaking, never ceases to stun you every day. He waits at home, is always patient, and is always trusting. The thought of his joy warms you as you tighten your grip on your crowbar and knife.

Back at the apartment, it feels unbearable still. Mr. Crawling gazes through the door—waiting for your return. His fingers relentlessly tapped the tatami board as it echoed through the room. It's been almost an hour since she left him, she always does every day for him.

He still remembered her voice firming when she told him to stay.

He watches her moving to gather her things, his legs tucked close to his body. He knows her too well—the same command she gives every time. Stay. He doesn't think about it but wants more of her touch, only about the moment before her absence, and he clung to her as his large frame wrapped around her waist. He chirped in a low tone, full of worry and protest. His grip tightened slightly, enough to make his point without holding her back.

He pressed his face into your legs, his arms curling towards your leg, "stay" he told her as he snuggled to her, not wanting to let go, “ you’re so stubborn” she murmured, stroking his head. The gesture was a silent reassurance for him to stop worrying though she knew it wouldn't stop him from worrying.

She turns to face him as his face is still smothered to her thighs, his cold lips puckering into her skin. He doesn’t need words to tell her how he feels; the way he clings to her, his body trembles faintly, caught between his instinct to obey and his need to protect her.

As her warm fingers tangled into his hair, brushing it calmly, she told him, " Me back soon; I find food. " she promised, her voice softer now. “You don’t have to worry.”

With a final sigh, she gently pries him off, his cold finger reluctant to let go. “Stay here,” she says, her tone firmer now, though her heart aches at the look he gives her. He didn't move and obeyed her, as she smiled one last time and crouched to his level to kiss his forehead, " I'll be back soon. I Promise," She said one last time to open and lock the door, leaving him in a trance with determination to follow her.

He was hesitant to disobey her requests and always did, lowering his head in submission. But now, in the suffocating silence, he feels the weight of her absence like a stone in his chest. He tried to wait, his attempts to distract himself with television, watching shows that helped him understand her language more, but as soon as his face glimmered when he saw the heroine with her lover cuddling in a scene. It was no use. missing her so dearly that his pull to follow her was too strong, an instinct older than obedience.

She is his world, his reason, and the thought of her out there alone, facing whatever dangers the night might bring, fills him with unease. Even though he knew she was capable of handling herself well, killing those people for him joyed him. He knew she loved him as much as he loved her.

Making his decision wasn't easy for him, he knew he would face the consequences of her ignoring him though he shook his head, he wanted to see her, he needed her now.

He moves swiftly to the door. His movements are precise and quiet, the art of going unnoticed. He knows where she has gone—he’s watched her enough times at the window to remember the path she takes. He follows her scent, a trail as familiar to him as the rhythm of his footsteps. With every step, he feels her grace like a taut thread, pulling him closer to her.

Its darkness yawned wide like the mouth of a beast. He hesitates for a moment, hearing her voice in his mind, Stay. Wait for me. But he presses on.

He moved carefully, his body blending into the dark foliage as his fingers gripped the pole lamp. He saw her gripping tightly to her crowbar and massively hitting her victim, he watched in awe as pride swelled in his chest at the sight of her—strong, capable, everything he admires.

Though he knows the facade she's been growing through back there in his world, he saw her unreality in a tick of time, and by the hanging thread of webs-he had been with her, and he knew she was close to insanity. Was she close? Or she's already been insane nevertheless, he will always be there with her.

She didn't notice him at first, focused on the task ahead. But then a chitter of a familiar voice captivates your attention as you whip your head, your coat shadowing your expression of bloodlust to confusion. There he is, his head tilted with his adoring smile. She shook her head with a giggle, he never listened to her as she pointed him to get closer to him.

He lowered his body as his smile creeped out to his ear, he skitters toward her, his movements quick but careful as he came faster to her and clung to her lower body as his face smothered to her bloodied coat "I miss you, I love you. " he said with a chitter as his cold hands hold her bloodied ones and directly placed into his head.

You sighed in intent and ruffled his hair as you looked down and cupped his face with our bloodied hands "You didn't listen to me, But I forgive you. " You crouched to his level as his hands wandered to your body and cupped your face and smothered a messy kiss on your lips, his cold lips puckering your bottom lip leaving a chitter from him. "Me love you, " he told you as he came closer to your body, his large frame almost hugging your smaller ones. You giggled to him as you corrected his grammar, always forgetting the "I", " I love you, too. "

He chirps, leaning into her touch, his body vibrating with relief, he clung to her like a baby as his face looked at the bloodied streets. "Food?" He questioned her, as his hands never left hers. "Yeah, food for you. " As she pointed to the dead body beside them.

As she stands up to place the chopped meat in a plastic bag with blood, "Let's go home." her hands directing him to hold her, he stands up, his towering silhouette blending with the shadows of the city. His mind is clear, his resolve unshakable. He is with her, the love of his life, and with every consequence they will face, he knows she will be there with him as she is with him.

[teapartyprincess4two]

On Stream- M. Sturniolo

pairing: gf!reader x bf!Matt

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, short, slight cursing, some suggestive comments

summary: Matt mentions you on stream, causing the chat to go crazy.

—

Nowadays it seems that Matt and Chris have an abnormal amount of free time.

The pair have spent the past few days running errands, catching up on chores, spending quality time together, and unwinding. But two energetic young men can only do so much relaxing before it becomes unbearably boring, especially without you and Nick around.

Nick’s somewhere across the globe, relishing in the perks of having good friends. He’s experiencing the world with a sense of individuality, having been apart from his triplet brothers for over a week.

Without Nick around the house is quiet and boring enough, but Chris and Matt can usually count on you to keep them company. But it seems that they see you less and less every day.

You aren’t somewhere far away, not physically at least, you’re just very, very busy. As you enter the fall semester, you’re juggling a multitude of responsibilities including school, work, your social life, and your relationship. But as you adjust to your crazy hectic schedule, you spend less time at home with Matt and more time nose deep in a book.

So, just as the brothers grow accustomed to the eerie silence that haunts the halls of their home and the boredom that settles into their everyday lives, they decide enough is enough and take up a new hobby. Streaming.

Today, as Matt anchors himself in his rolling chair, his eyes skim through the endless chats that flood his screen. Chris sits next to him, a vibrant and excited smile adorning his features.

This is their third consecutive day going live on Twitch. At first they went live to entertain and chat with their fans, but now they’re doing it to occupy their bored minds.

Chris’s eyes skim the chat, fixating on one message in particular. He subconsciously reads it aloud, “Is Y/n on tour with Nick? We miss her.”

After reading the comment, the chat was flooded with similar messages asking for you. Matt slumps into his chair, the mention of your name reminding him that it’s been a week since he’s seen you.

“Nah, she’s just busy with school right now,” Chris replies mindlessly, skimming for another comment to read.

A lot of the viewers noticed Matt’s mood shift. They noticed the way his eyes drooped and the way the corners of his mouth turned into a frown. They especially noticed the disassociated look he wore, mind traveling to a place only you could bring him out of.

“Matt,” Chris says, waving a hand in front of his brother’s face. No response. “Matt!” He tries again, louder this time. Matt still doesn’t respond, only coming back into reality when Chris violently shakes his shoulders.

“What, dude? What?!” Matt asks, annoyance evident in his tone.

“Your phone’s ringing.” Chris replies with an eye roll and a small scoff.

Suddenly the blaring ring registers in Matt’s mind as he pats his pockets in search of his phone. When he finally finds it, your name illuminated the screen.

“Who’s calling?” Chris asks, stretching out his neck in hopes of catching a nosy glimpse at the caller ID.

“Umm be right back chat. Y/n’s calling,” Matt says, words spewing out a mile a minute. He disappears from the room faster than ever, immediately pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is music to Matt’s ears. It feels like forever since he’s last heard it.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “everything okay?”

You hum in response, followed by a soft yawn.

“You sound tired. When are you coming home?” Matt asks, softly leaning against the wall. You’ve been at school all day stuck in lectures and studying, so Matt knows you need some well deserved rest.

“I’m on my way now. That’s why I called, wanted to see if you guys were hungry so I could pick up something to eat.”

The excitement that courses through Matt’s veins is unreal, winding him up with enough energy to last until tomorrow. He can’t wait to see you, hold you, kiss you, and make up for all the lost time.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he replies, pausing for a second to compose himself, “I just wanna see you.”

A warm smile graces your features and if Matt could see it he’d mirror your expression.

“I’ll be home soon don��t worry. How’s the stream going?”

“Huh?” For a second Matt forgot that he and his brother were live streaming for thousands of people.

“The stream. Aren’t you live with Chris right now?”

“Ohhh. It’s going… it’s going good.” Matt replies with a soft sigh.

Your smile is momentarily replaced with a frown. “It doesn’t sound like it’s going good. What’s wrong?”

Matt’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose before gliding across his eyelids and massaging the tense nerves and muscles on his face. “It’s going fine. I just can’t focus. The chat keeps asking about you and it’s honestly making me really sad.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips. “Aww my poor baby. Can’t focus on Fortnite?”

“Not Fortnite.”

“Oops, sorry. Fall Guys?

“Y/n.” Matt warns, though he finds it slightly funny too.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. I’ll be home soon with some good food and open arms. We can cuddle and watch a movie, or do anything else you wanna do. Okay?”

Matt feels his spirit lighten up again, a cheeky smirk forming on his face. “Anything?”

“Don’t push it,” you laugh.

Just as Matt’s about to respond, he’s cut short by Chris calling his name from inside the room.

“Get back to your stream. I’ll be home soon, handsome.”

Matt’s lips form a silly pout you can’t even see as he replies, “But I wanna keep talking to you. Miss you so much.”

“MATT!” Chris calls again, this time much louder than the last.

“We’ll talk all you want when I get home. Now go! I have the stream pulled up on my computer and I think Chris is gonna start twerking,” you say, trying your best not to laugh.

“Holy fuck this kid,” Matt groans, face palming. “Alright baby, I love you. Drive safe.”

“I love you too,” you say through small giggles before hanging up.

When Matt renters the room, he’s not surprised to find Chris dancing for the camera. He pushes past him and settles back into his rolling chair wearing a huge, toothy smile.

“What did Y/n want?” Chris asks, briefly glancing at Matt as he switches from doing the griddy to shuffling across the room.

“Just asked if we were hungry,” Matt shrugs, attempting to act nonchalant, but there’s no hiding the newfound pep in his step.

“And it took you that long?”

“I was catching up with my girl. —Why the fuck are you still dancing?”

“Someone gifted,” Chris says, slightly breathless as he bops from corner to corner.

“Alright…” Matt shifts towards the computer, “What did I miss?”

He reads comments, expecting most of them to be about Chris and his absurd dancing skills, but he’s surprised to find that they’re all about you.

Some fans ask where you are, others ask what you’re doing, some speculate on the conversation you and Matt had, and others simply comment on how much happier Matt seems since talking to you.

All Matt can do is smile and patiently wait for you to arrive, ready to bombard you with kisses as soon as you step through the door.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: hi babies! Hope you enjoy this short oneshot! I know I haven’t updated or posted much in a longggg time but I honestly had writers block :P I’m trying to get into the habit of writing again, so bear with me pls. I have a lotttt of drafts (some that just need to be edited) so be expecting that soon! Luv you all 😚

- L.A.M.B🪽💝

—

taglist: @nickgetsmewetter @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @rxeae @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @certifiednatelover @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @luvr4miya @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable @sugrhigh @khxna @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @callsignwidow @sturnstvr @inkyray-deactivated20240729 @stasiesturn @poopiepantsworld @cvnt4matty @eleanore2204 @jhutchismyl0verb0y

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 37: The Silence

Summary: Tensions are at an all time high in the pack as an eerie silence settles over the cottage

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,069 words

Warnings: Angst, heavy emotions, arguing, medical stuff, injuries, descriptions of pain, brief discussion about strangulation, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, panic attack, PTSD, language

A/N: Uh yeah, this one did emotional damage. Prepare yourselves.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

They stand there watching like four knights in a tower guarding their kingdom. Their eyes are glued ahead, staring through the glass out into the backyard. They’re alert and watchful, eyes assessing and scanning for any threats. There are none except for your trembling legs. 

They stand there watching like four knights guarding their princess. None of them are brave enough to move, none of them dare break the moment. They can’t help but wonder what’s going on in your head, what drove you to push past the pain and exhaustion to shuffle your way outside. 

Panic bubbled in Kyle’s chest when he saw you shuffling your way across the living area. He’d nearly intervened when you stumbled, but John’s hand on his chest stopped him. You were in your own world, oblivious to everyone and everything as you shuffled determinedly toward the back door. They’d silently followed you, Johnny and Simon joining them when they descended the stairs. 

All you’ve done is stand out there. It feels like it’s been an hour, but it’s been less than five minutes. You’re frozen there, all except for the tremble of your legs and the subtle shake of your shoulders. 

You’re crying. 

It hurts his soul. It tears through his very chest as he watches you. He wants nothing more than to run out there and take you in his arms and soothe your tears. 

He can’t. 

He lost those privileges when they left you, when they betrayed you, when they abandoned you. It may have been John’s choice, but they were all complacent in it. None of them fought that decision, none of them questioned it. Would John have changed his mind if they did? Could they have avoided all of this if they had just questioned their alpha, their captain? 

Not all of it would have been unavoidable. 

You would have still been hurt. You would have still been traumatized. There was no guarantee Graves would have held off, even if they came for you in the first place. Things might have been worse. Graves might have gotten impulsive as soon as he realized the outcome of his own situation. 

Shepherd fucked him over too in the end. 

Things happened the way they did and they can’t change that. That’s what Christine keeps telling them. The past is the past and you can only work to build the future. 

It’s going to take a lot of work. 

“How long has she been out there?” Christine asks, stepping up next to them. 

“About four minutes.” Simon answers. 

“She shouldn’t be out there like that.” Christine goes to move to the door, but John stops her. 

“Let her have a moment.” He says, still staring out the window. “She needs it.” 

Christine lets out a quiet huff but she doesn’t move, turning her gaze out the sliding glass door as well. 

You continue to stand there, frozen like a statue. Time passes slowly, all of them captivated by the silent moment they’re witnessing. It’s almost hypnotic. The fading light, your figure standing there surrounded by grey skies and green earth like some sort of painting. 

Pain and bliss. 

That’s what he’d title it. He knows that’s what you must be feeling. Pain, visible and invisible from wounds that go far deeper than the flesh. Pain in its purest form as you stand there under heavy grey skies that echo the heaviness in your mind. The bliss echoes from John’s words, his reveal of your desire to see the ocean again, to stand on its shores and let its essence consume you.

It all makes sense now. No wonder you would cling to him the most, press your face into his neck and just breathe. His own briney scent was a gateway to what you desired in your landlocked position. How long had you been holding that desire in? Were you disappointed when you rolled up on their doorstep to find yourself still far away from the sea? You hid that desire from the knowledge that, as an omega, your wants and needs would always come last, in the knowledge that their jobs would come first and you would be at the mercy of that job. 

His eyes burn with tears as he stares at you. 

You begin to tremble more and more the longer you stand there, shifting on your feet. It breaks the haze they’ve all been frozen in, the five of them snapping back into reality. Christine is out the door before any of them can move, hurrying to your side. She wraps an arm around your back, careful not to touch your left arm as she steadies you. Kyle jumps into action automatically after her, hurrying to your new designated room to grab the wheelchair. With how much effort it took to walk out there, you won’t be walking back in. 

He wheels it out, holding it still as Christine maneuvers you into it. As much as he doesn’t want to, he turns, slipping back in the door as Christine wheels you towards the house. The four of them watch as she passes, time pausing as they stare at you. You don’t look up at them, don't acknowledge them at all. Your gaze is turned down in your lap, head lowered as you hunch, shoulders rounded.

Pain and exhaustion are weighing on you from your exertion as Christine takes you back to your room. How heavy the world must seem from the combined weight of your physical and mental injuries. The state of your mind would be one thing, but being stuck in a temporary handicapped state due to your physical injuries must be driving you nearly insane. There’s no getting away, no isolation. You can’t even walk fully unaided yet. 

There’s no freedom.  

All of them share a look in the heavy silence, understanding without even needing to say a word. 

The mug is burning his fingers but he can’t bring himself to care. His gaze is locked, mind focused elsewhere. He hasn’t moved in so long his joints are aching, but he can’t find it in himself to even shift his position.

“Drinking it black?” His fingers twitch as Kyle takes the seat next to him, his own mug of tea in his hands. It clunks as he sets it on the table before he lowers himself into the chair with a sigh. “That’s low even for you.” 

Simon lets out a grunt, eyes still focused out the sliding glass door. 

“She’s fine.” Kyle says, pulling out his phone. “The Doc won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“Don’t like that she’s out there alone.” Simon says, finally releasing the mug, squeezing his burning fingers into his palm. 

“Technically she’s not alone,” Kyle says, giving him a sideways glance. “We’ve been over this. We’re perfectly safe here.” 

“For now.” Simon lifts his mug to his lips, ignoring the burn of the tea on his tongue. He’s long become numb to that sort of pain.

“No one knows we’re here except Kate and my sister. Neither of them would say anything, no matter what.” Kyle turns his gaze back to the sliding glass door, to your figure huddled in the chair outside. “She’s where she needs to be right now.” 

Footsteps thud down the stairs, John letting out a groan as he reaches the bottom. He takes a moment to stretch before heading for the kettle in the kitchen. 

“Rough night, sir?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea. 

“I’ve slept worse.” John grunts, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. 

Both of them had tossed and turned last night. Simon had listened to the occasional creak of the bed frame as they turned. He knows that’s what it was. They’re not ready yet. None of them are. Things are too fragile, too frayed. 

“Anyone thought about breakfast?” John asks. 

“Still some eggs left, and some bread. We need to make a store run soon.” Kyle says. 

“Today.” John says, pouring water into the mug. “A lot of things we need to pick up.” He turns to face Simon and Kyle, leaning against the cupboard. “Simon and I will go.” 

Simon shifts in his seat, his hand tightening around his mug again. “That’s not a good idea.” 

“What, you’re doubting our ability to watch the house?” Kyle says, turning to Simon. 

Simon glances at him, his eyes hard. “No, There should just be an alpha here at all times.” 

“Really? Because that sounds a lot like you don’t trust Johnny and I.” Kyle says, getting angry. 

“Enough.” John says, setting his mug down on the table. “We keep fighting amongst ourselves, nothing is going to get better. Tensions are high, but none of this is about us. We have to keep our heads on straight for the sake of our pack, and our omega. Simon and I will go to town today. That’s final.” 

Kyle and Simon both lower their eyes to their mugs of tea as John takes a seat at the table. He is right. Fighting amongst themselves will only make things worse for you. You’re already struggling, and the bonds fraying further will only cause more damage, more stress for you. Their bonds with you are delicate enough. They can’t risk the bonds between themselves getting any thinner. They have to be strong for you. They have to be strong for each other. They have to be strong for the pack. The whole pack. 

It falls silent between the three of them as they sit there, sipping their tea. Johnny is the only one still in bed. He cried most of the night last night. He’s cried most of the night the last three nights. He’s probably shed more tears than you have. 

Simon feels stuck in the middle, like he’s being torn in two separate directions. He got up in the night to free himself from the sounds of Johnny crying just to hear your own quiet sobs through your closed door. Each broken sob had his heart splitting in half, the ache in his chest getting worse and worse. He was sure he was having a heart attack that first night, his chest compressing and squeezing, his hands going numb from how tense his body was. 

He wants to reach out and make it better, but he can’t bring himself to. Johnny will just shrug him off, and you won’t even look at him. Even John and Kyle are distant, gravitating further and further away. The gravitational field in the center of their pack continues to get bigger and bigger, forcing them further and further away from each other, and none of them know how to stop it. They’ve lost their point of equilibrium. They’re all spiraling further and further away. Eventually that gravitational field will dissipate and they’ll be left free-floating through space and time. 

They all turn to look as the sliding glass door opens and you crutch your way in. Dr. Keller is right behind you, closing the back door before guiding you back to your room, the blanket you had been draped in folded neatly over her arm. You’re moving better, even just in two days since their arrival. Steadier on your feet, walking better with the crutch. You even look a little better, more alive than you were when you arrived here. 

They all watch you walk to your room, but you don’t spare a glance their way. You haven’t looked at any of them in two days. You haven’t spoken a word to them, to anyone, in two days. 

Kyle gets up to make breakfast as soon as you’ve passed, broken from the spell as Dr. Keller gets you settled in your room. You’re almost hypnotic now, all of their gazes drawn to you as soon as you enter the room. They’re all thinking the same thing every time you pass. Maybe this will be the time you finally look at them, when you finally glance their way. What he wouldn’t give to have you smile at him, give him that cheeky little grin after sassing him. 

Little shit. 

His hand tightens around his mug again as guilt floods him. You’ve sunken into an empty shell because of them. They sucked the life right out of you. They dragged you into this and failed to do what they were supposed to do. Anger bubbles in him as he thinks back to that moment. He should have fought back. He should have used his position to change John’s mind, or forced him to change it. He should have stepped up for you. 

He’s not your alpha. 

He almost wishes he was. 

He stares down at the scabbed imprint of your teeth on his skin. He should pick up a bottle of ink in town, tattoo that mark on his skin forever as a reminder of both you and what he did to you. 

“How is she?” John asks when Dr. Keller enters the kitchen. Simon’s shoulders square as she passes him, having been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed her enter. 

Bloody hell, he’s as bad as you.

“As good as she can be.” She sighs, grabbing a can of soup out of the cupboard. You won’t get the eggs and toast Kyle is making. Your diet consists of soup and only soup. 

“Hasn’t said anything still?” John asks, turning to look at her. 

“Not a word.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “I’d be worried, if it wasn’t expected.” She pulls out a pot, opening the can before dumping the contents in. Chicken noodle. The staple soup in your diet. “Strangulation can be a hard thing to recover from.”

“I know.” Simon winces, taking a sip of his tea. 

The doctor gives him a sympathetic look. He doesn’t want it. “She had some mild damage done from it, which will take time to heal. And, everyone deals with trauma differently. Silence isn’t that unusual of a response.” She puts the pan on the hob, turning the heat on. “If I was worried, you would know.” 

“Thank you for looking after her.” John says, nodding at the doctor. “You didn't have to stay.”

“I made a promise.” She says, stirring the soup. “She's still my patient, even if the initiative was bogus. I still have a duty to perform as her doctor. Kate wouldn't have chosen me from the start if I was the type to just up and leave as soon as I found out my job wasn't actually real. I care about her a lot, and I want to help her get through this.”

“We all owe a lot to you.” John says. “We wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

“No,” The corner of her mouth twitches. “You probably wouldn't have.”

Christine lets out a quiet sigh as she steps into your room. You're in the chair by the window, your usual spot when it's too damp and cold to sit outside. 

It's dark in the room aside from the light coming through the window. It’s always dark in the room, except at night when you sleep with the bedside lamp on. She flips that lamp on, not wanting to blind you suddenly with the overhead light. You’ve been blinded by enough bright lights over the last week. Nearly a week and a half. It feels like so much time has passed, yet it still feels like yesterday when she was coming to in her office after being attacked and drugged. The terror she’d felt upon finding you missing still fills her stomach, and she finds herself getting up in the middle of the night to check and make sure you’re really there. 

She’s not the only one that does it. 

The paper bags in her arms crinkle as she carries them over to you, setting them on the other chair. Your gaze is far away, staring off at the grey, stormy sea in the distance. How fitting the weather is, both for you and the members of the pack. The tension between them is still palpable, all of them moving stiffly around each other. They’ve lost the natural fluidity of a pack comfortable in their bonds. They’re stuck, and they can’t, they won’t, heal until you do. They won’t allow themselves to until they know you’re willing to at least try. 

“John and Simon went to town and did some shopping. They picked up some things for you.” She says softly, breaking the heavy silence in the room. 

You don’t even turn to look at her. 

“More warm clothes.” She continues, looking in one bag. “As well as some boots.” She pulls a box out of another bag. “A nightlight, so you don’t have to keep using the lamp.” She looks in the third bag, the heaviest one of the three. “Another stuffed animal.” She says, pulling out a stuffed bear. It’s a nice thought, but she’s not sure you’ll even want to touch it. “And some books.” She says, pulling the stack out of the bottom of the bag. 

There’s three of them, ones not in the collection on the shelves in the living area. Some of your favorites. They’re trying, putting in efforts to try and make you as comfortable as possible in the only ways they can right now. She sets the books on the side table next to you, taking a long look at you as you sit there. 

You haven’t picked up a book in the two days they’ve been at the cottage, though she’s not surprised. You’ve been in and out of it, sleeping off the pain medicine, or sitting in a haze, mind far away from the cabin. She wonders where you are, where your mind is going. Out on the water? Out on the beach? Or maybe somewhere back in your memories where it’s safe. Receding back somewhere when life was easier and safer. 

Are you thinking of your mother? Are you imagining her here with you? 

Her heart hurts for you, being torn away from her at such a pivotal moment in your life. If she had the ability to find her she would. If she could track down your mother and bring her here for you she would. 

You begin to sniffle, almost as if you can somehow read her thoughts. The tears are falling, streaming down your cheeks again. She doesn't say anything, she doesn’t have to as she stands there beside you, gently stroking your hair. She’s seen many things in her time as an omega specialist. She’s had patients that have gone through things that would make even the most seasoned doctor’s stomach churn. She’s helped omegas that have been pushed to the brink of insanity, omegas pushed to the brink of death. Yet none of them have affected her the way you have. Maybe it’s because she’s never been quite so invested in an omega’s life before, never been quite so inserted into an omega’s reality. 

If she was a better doctor, she might have refused to stay here, keeping distance between herself and your pack. She’s gotten too close, pushed past the barrier of professionalism. If she was a better doctor, she’d distance herself, stick to the decorum and expectation of doctor/patient relationships. She knows omega specialists can get too close. She’d been warned over and over about how easy it is to invest too much into the lives and well beings of omegas. There’s a boundary that must be kept, both for the professional and for the sake of the omega. She won’t be around you forever. 

Eventually she’ll have to distance herself. She’ll have to go back to America, return to her practice. Now that the initiative is over, now that her job doesn’t even exist, she’s running on borrowed time. She’ll have to leave you at some point, close your case and move on. 

When is the question there. When will it be the right time? When will she decide you’ve healed enough to be graduated from her care? When will she be confident enough to break the bond that has formed between the two of you. 

Will she be able to? That’s the deeper question. 

Those are thoughts for a different day, she decides, pushing them aside. Instead she pulls you into her side, resting your head against her hip as she continues to stroke your hair. 

You look just about as happy to be at the table as they do. It's quiet in the room aside from the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and the occasional sizzle of food in a pan. Your gaze is in your lap, assuming your normal position of a drooping head and rounded shoulders. 

Your back and neck have to hurt from being in that position for so long. 

The only time you're not in those positions are when you're outside. Then your gaze is out at the sea in the distance. You sit there and stare, almost like a statue. You’d make for a good painting, seated still enough for long enough a skilled artist could make a masterpiece of it. 

He's surprised Johnny hasn't even sketched you like that yet. Perhaps if you can ever come to be more comfortable around them, you'll allow him to paint you. You’ll be taking up residence out there in that chair as often as you can. 

He’s not even sure rain or storm would deter you, if it wasn’t for Christine’s intervention. 

Kyle sets a plate of chicken on the table as Christine brings over your soup, setting it down in front of you. Always a bowl of steaming hot soup. How you’re existing off of mostly liquids is beyond him. Maybe that’s why you look so fragile and frail. 

“There you go,” Christine says as she sets a spoon down beside the bowl. Chicken and rice, a changeup from your normal chicken noodle. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to. You’re not going to feel better without food in your system.” 

You let out a quiet noise, just barely audible over the shuffling of bodies as they sit at the table. Simon is to your left, Kyle next to him, Christine and Johnny on the other side. He’s on the opposite end of the table, staring right at you. No wonder you don’t want to move from your hunched position. 

They keep their eyes off of you as they begin serving themselves. The food they’ve managed to make is decent with the help of their combined cooking skills. They’d had a long discussion about the intricacies of British food versus American food the first morning after their arrival. Christine advocated for more American-based dishes, with Johnny taking her side purely out of spite for the three Englishmen. 

John has caught Christine sneaking seasoning into the food every so often. He hasn’t said a word.

“Come on, eat up.” Christine says, gently nudging your hand where it rests over the spoon. 

Your face screws up in a grimace as you stare down at the steaming soup. It’s a breath before your fingers wrap around the spoon, lifting it to the bowl. Every movement feels practiced and calculated as he watches you sink the spoon into the bowl, just barely sinking below the surface to get just broth. He watches as you lift the spoon, holding it halfway to your mouth. There’s a subtle shake to your hand, not much but noticeable to him. You stare down at the spoon for a long moment before lifting it the rest of the way, quickly putting it in your mouth before your hand starts shaking too much. 

You grimace as you swallow, a quiet grunt leaving your lips. He can’t bring himself to look away as you sit there, taking in a couple deep breaths. He can’t bring himself to eat as you stare back down at the bowl, your fingers trembling around the spoon. 

Fuck. 

You sniffle as you sink the spoon into the bowl once more, the spoon shaking more now as you bring the second spoonful to your mouth. It’s like watching some kind of sick, twisted children’s windup toy as you feed yourself, following the pattern of spoon in soup, soup to mouth, pained grimace, quiet sob. It gets worse and worse with every bite, John barely able to stomach his own food as he watches you with every bite.

You stare down at a chunk of chicken on your spoon, a fearful look on your face. Your hand is shaking enough that soup is dripping off the bottom back into the bowl. Christine had cut the chunks up smaller, yet you stare down at it like it might jump off the spoon and bite you. 

Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you bring the spoon up to your lips, forcing it into your mouth. You chew and chew and chew, delaying the inevitable. The face you make as you swallow nearly breaks him. He lowers his gaze to his own plate, barely touched despite the fact he feels like they’ve been eating for a lifetime. 

“Take a break.” Christine says quietly, lowering your hand with the spoon back onto the table. 

None of them can bear to look at you. Johnny and Kyle are busy staring at their plates as they eat while Simon glares holes into his water glass. He’s watching you just as closely, he’s just not brave enough to stare at you so openly. 

The tears continue to fall as you start feeding yourself again, Christine watching you as your hand begins to shake more and more, the pain starting to get to you. John wants to reach out, to take the spoon and feed you himself, but he can’t. It’s destroying him inside, seeing you struggle so openly. Christine won’t intervene, she won’t do anything as she sits there. Rationally he knows why. You need to get used to feeding yourself again, you need to work past the pain and exhaustion to keep yourself going. 

His alpha is screaming. 

Your hand is nearly vibrating as you hold another spoonful up, this one full of rice and chicken. You let out a quiet sob as you stare at it. That’s going to hurt. He can nearly sense your pain, the agony you’re feeling. Your scent is like a cloud fogging up the air, sour with fear and pain. It’s sinking right into his brain, his alpha clawing at him to do something. You’re in such open distress in front of him but he can’t move. He’s frozen, staring at you in shock, unable to look away. 

It’s Simon’s quick reflexes that save you, his hand darting out to flip the spoon onto the table before you drop it on yourself. It lands with a clang, startling all of them out of their ruminations as it hits the bowl of peas, splattering rice and chicken and broth across the tablecloth. Christine is on her feet almost immediately, checking you over for burns from any of it that might have landed on you. 

“You're okay.” Christine says, wiping your face with a napkin as you sob loudly, openly crying now. “It was a good try. Come on.” 

She helps you to your feet, grabbing your crutch before leading you back to your room. 

All four of them sit there in silence, still as statues as they process what they had just witnessed. 

“Fuck,” Kyle breaths, his eyes glued to the half-eaten chicken on his plate. 

Johnny starts to sniffle himself, his gaze locked on his own plate. Simon's eyes are on the spoon he'd flipped where it lays on the table. 

He had no idea just how bad things really were. He knew they were bad. 

He just didn't think they were this bad.

You’re sitting outside in that chair again. It’s a lovely morning, cold but the sun is rising up over the hills, casting a pink and orange glow across the sky. You look almost ethereal out there, even if he can only see the back of your head. Your eyes are cast out at the sea in the distance, where your gaze always seems to lie. 

His fingers itch in a desire to draw you, the art supplies Simon had picked up for him sitting unopened upstairs. It’s the first time he’s felt the desire to draw in weeks. Not since your heat when he’d sat there by your side, drawing to keep the thoughts away. The pictures are probably still up on his wall, the pieces he’d done to keep his own distress away. Had you laid there and stared at them after they left you? He can picture you laying there numbly, eyes glazed as you stare at them, picturing yourself far away. 

You don’t need his drawings now to imagine yourself far away. 

You’re still as a statue as you sit there, the thick blanket he’d picked up in Texas tucked around you. It warms his heart, even if he knows it was Christine who wrapped you up in it. The mug of tea beside you is still steaming in the cool air, untouched as it will remain until Christine eventually brings you back inside where you’ll recede to your room to sit in front of the large bay window to stare out at the sea. 

He wants to take you. 

He wants to load you up in the car and take you the short drive down the road to the beach. He wants to let you stand there in the sand, see the waves as they crash onto the shore. Hell, he’d let you walk into the water, let it soak your shoes and pants. Whatever you need to do, he’d let you do it. 

John would have his hide if he left with you like that. 

Simon would eat him alive. 

He won’t do that, though, mostly because he knows you wouldn’t be strong enough to make it down to the beach, nor stand there for a long period of time. Carrying you would be out of the question. You’d never let him that close. 

Instead he takes a gamble, getting as close as he dares as he slides open the door, stepping out into the cool morning. You don’t move, don’t even look up as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, the one Christine occupies when she’s out with you. He’d volunteered to watch you through the door to allow her some time to herself, something she hasn’t been getting much of. She’s been caring for you nearly 24/7, only getting breaks here and there while you sleep or nap, or on the rare occasion she trusts one of them to watch you. She never complains, but he knows she’s tired. Anyone would be after everything they’ve been through, after everything she’s had to see and experience over the last week and a half. 

It’s the least they can do, even if you won’t allow them to do more. They all wish they could. They wish they could ease some of your suffering, take some of the strain off of Christine’s shoulders. Kyle even went so far as to invite his sister to visit over for the weekend in hopes she might be able to lighten the load, and to see if you’ll allow her closer than you’re allowing them to get. 

He moves cautiously like he’s approaching a wild animal, not wanting to startle you and cause you more pain than you have been in. He can be a bull in a china shop, or he can be silent and deadly. He chooses something in the middle, making his footsteps just loud enough to be heard across the wooden planks of the porch, but he moves slowly enough he won’t startle you as he appears in your peripheral. 

Your gaze never leaves the horizon, focused and far away even as he takes a seat next to you. His mug of coffee is warm in his hands, fighting off the chill outside. It’s a natural response to the sudden temperature change after being inside in the warm house. He almost wishes he had his own blanket, but then again, he’s not sure he’ll be outside very long. 

He’s prepared for yelling, screaming, getting hit with your crutch as you tell him off, chasing him back inside. He’d almost prefer it over the eerie silence. He has to glance at you just to make sure you’re breathing, make sure the blanket is rising and falling over your chest. He follows your gaze out to the sea, sitting there silently as he gazes out at the dark blue water. Silence is hard for him. He can feel it throbbing in his ears, the ringing that fills his head when it’s quiet. He likes noise. He needs noise. 

He just wants to hear you speak again. 

He needs to hear you speak again. 

He wants to talk to you, he wants to say something, he wants to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. He wants to feel your touch again, even if it’s just a brush of fingers across his hand. He wants to get something out of you, some kind of reaction. You’re an empty shell, a ghost of what you were. 

Tears fill his eyes as he stares out at the blue water. The silence is deafening as he sits there with you, still and quiet. 

He might as well be sitting alone. 

It’s the dead of night. The stars are out, or they would be if the clouds weren’t blocking them. It makes the world seem so much darker without their light. The fire is out, the curtains drawn closed. The only light is from the porch and the lights on the patio out back. The house is quiet, not even the hum of appliances filling the silence. 

Kyle’s breaths are quiet and even, finally asleep after laying awake for far too long. Their backs are turned towards each other, yet the double bed forces them close enough they can feel the warmth radiating from the other. It’s the only position they can sleep in, even if they’ve woken up cuddling a few times in the night. It’s almost as if their brains are subconsciously trying to force the bonds back, to force the healing. It’s as if their instincts are laughing at them for trying to deny what they want deep down. 

John lays there in the silence, his mind racing. He can’t sleep again for the fifth night in a row. He hasn’t been able to sleep since they left weeks ago on their mission to track down the missiles. No, it’s been longer than that. Not since you revealed the cameras to them. How long ago that seems now. How inconsequential it feels. If he knew back then what was going to happen, he would have changed a lot of things. 

You can’t undo what was done. You can only change what happens going forward. 

Things happened the way they happened. Now he has to make up for it. Now he has to prove himself not just as a capable alpha, but as a trustworthy human being. Your omega is screaming. He knows it. He had sensed it at dinner with your quiet sobs, the pain flooding your scent. He can still smell it, the sourness permeating his nostrils and sinking right into his brain. His alpha is still clawing at him angrily for just sitting there, for just letting it happen. 

Simon intervened. Simon saved you once again. 

He had barely comprehended the quick movement of Simon’s hand as he knocked the spoon out of your grip. He’d gotten soup on his hand, the droplets visible, yet he hadn’t moved as he sat there, letting it burn his skin. Better his than yours. He could almost hear Simon’s thoughts at that moment. 

What a good alpha Simon is. 

What a failure of an alpha John is. 

Your omega must be screaming in your mind, clawing at her cage. It’s almost like he can hear it rattling in his ears, reminding him of the pain he’s caused you. The pain brought on by his failures. 

Something is rattling in his ears, piercing through the silence. 

It is a scream. 

It’s your scream. 

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