#did miles ask to be bitten?? NO!!

[massiveladycat]

im breaking my silence hes ugly asf on the inside and the outside goodnight

[florencemtrash]

Club Rats and Cigarettes: Part I

Azriel x Modern Reader

Summary: When Azriel stumbles into a new world with his brothers, the last thing he expects to find is a mate. But she has a hell of a way of making a first impression, and Azriel can't help but fall in love with someone who feels familiar in a strange world.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of drug use

Masterlist of Masterlists

Author's note: I had a thought. I wrote it. Here ya go!

Y/n leaned back against the motley wall covered in indie movie and band posters 10-layers deep. Humidity caused the paper to lift away from the brick, curling like steam off coffee before being frozen in place by the next slather of paste. Y/n felt the sharp, glue-soaked edges poke through the mesh of her shirt. 

Looking left and right she saw a few stragglers heading towards the club — three girls huddled in fake-fur coats with freshly-shaved legs trembling in the October air, and a group of college boys dressed in the same jeans, sneakers, and pale collared shirts. They flickered in and out of the darkness as the streetlights hummed with the effort of keeping their failing bulbs alight. A handful of skeletal cars sat beside busted parking meters or half-hidden in the employee parking lots of the closed down street. During the day when the restaurants were open, inoffensive jazz battled it out with the reggaeton blaring from the trendy taco joint at the end of the block, and Kpop dancers pressed themselves against the screens posted by the corn dog restaurant’s windows, neon lights announcing that they were “OPEN!” But right now the neon was just another sad shade of grey. Even the sky’s colors were muted by packed clouds threatening rain. 

Music shook the pavement, but it came up from the sub-basement club deep and muffled. Y/n felt its vibrations pass through the soles of her boots, up her stocking-clad legs, and into her chest where her heart rumbled like a car without a muffler. 

A flash of flame revealed her glitter-coated cheeks and cobalt-blue eyeshadow. The color slipped and slid across her skin still tacky from club sweat until it was a pale wash of blue extending up to her temples and down to her cheekbones. A cloud of smoke covered her soon after as she lit her cigarette between nail-bitten fingers. A fresh coat of black polish glittered like stones, already chipping towards the tips. Menthol crisp bled into her lungs along with a breath of cold air perfumed with car exhaust and day old restaurant grease. She licked her lips and found that she did not mind the taste of lip gloss, mint, and char. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a boy with salt-white hair and shy, bent shoulders slink over to her trying to make himself as small as possible. “Can I bum a cigarette?” He asked, shockingly polite despite the black band t-shirt that read “Anarchy now!” and the careful spikes gelled into his hair and tipped green and black. 

Y/n wordlessly held out her pack and he plucked one out before hesitantly reaching for a second. She held out her lighter next and soon there were two plumes of smoke wafting into the air as music faded in and out with each body that passed through the rusted paint doors. Drunk giggles followed voices hoarse with drink and screaming. Heels clicked down the street, some heavy as a bass drum and others high and piercing like castanets. 

A quick flash of lightning splintered over the sky, followed seconds later by a dull crash like furniture toppling over. 

“One mile,” The boy said, leaning over. He smelled like bleach, aftershave, and surprisingly, cherries. The overly sweet ones that came out of a jar and decorated the tops of ice cream sundaes. 

“What?”

“You can count how far away lightning is from the thunder. Every five seconds between lightning and thunder is one mile.” 

Another flash painted the sky purple followed shortly by crumbled eruptions of noise. 

“That one was close by.” 

Y/n took one last drag before putting out her cigarette on the wall. The paper smoldered and was scarred black, but never burned. “Guess that’s my cue to go back inside then.” 

The boy nodded, smiling and looking her up and down a little too closely. Then his eyes sharpened, red-rimmed and squinting, as he glared into the street beyond her. 

“Do you see that?”  

Y/n twirled around on her heels, staring down the street to where it ended in shadow. It looked… darker than it should, although she couldn’t explain why. Like she stood before the throat of an animal. The darkness seemed to pulse and writhe, muscles clenching down on invisible meat. Then she felt stupid for having listened to him at all. 

“Don’t fuck with me,” she growled, pushing the salt-haired boy aside and slipping back inside the club. 

The music and heady scent of perfumes, cologne, and sweat punched her in the face, and she remembered why she’d chosen to stumble outside to begin with.

She moved in between bodies sparkling like disco balls, stealing body glitter as she went. She felt the tiny particles stick to her skin, tacky with sweat. Someone’s hand brushed against her wrist, but she swatted them off, pressing forward in search of her friends. She didn’t trust them to stay still, not in a place like this, nor did she trust them to check their phones, so she just kept searching the packed dance floor. Raised platforms crowded with plastic couches and spray painted tables hit her at eye level, but none of the platform heels and combat boots looked familiar. She thought a head of red corkscrews might have belonged to Cecelia, but it was only the changing lights reflecting off bleach blond hair. 

She dipped into the corner where a line of scantily clad girls with lanky legs waited for the bathroom. Ducking beneath the overhead speakers helped dull the noise, and if she climbed up two rungs of the barrier surrounding the DJ’s booth like a fighting ring, she could make out more of the crowd. Four stationary spotlights lit up the corners of the club pulsing red, blue, pink, and purple. A man in leopard print briefs was climbing onto one of the poles there, shredding his policeman’s shirt down the center as a woman in a zebra-print coat eagerly shoved a handful of dollar bills into his underwear. A drag king had his hot pink fedora knocked off by a drunk college student stumbling towards the bathrooms with a hand over his mouth. All over there were faint pinpricks of light followed by subtle releases of vape pen air, adding hints of watermelon and strawberry to the air. 

It was because she stood half-hanging off the DJ’s booth that she caught sight of the three men that entered one after another like the mob. Dressed in all black, they were better suited for a funeral than a club, save for one thing… their wings. 

Y/n blinked in confusion. There had been flyers hung up around the library and grocery stores about some anime convention being held in the city, but this place was a little out of the way for hardcore cosplayers. The most severe looking of the three lifted his nose to the air, then stumbled back in shock. As the strobe lights passed over his awe-struck expression, Y/n caught the glint of knives sheathed across his chest and at his side. 

Fuck. She looked up to the booth, but the DJ and the guys in ripped t-shirts bobbing their heads around him didn’t seem to notice. 

“Hey!” She dropped back onto the floor and tapped the shoulder of a barrel-chested man with the word “security” printed over his shirt in all caps. “I think those three guys brought knives in here.” She pointed in their general direction with one chipped, black fingernail. 

“The fuck?!” He gently pushed her aside, shouting something into his earpiece as he shoved his way into the crowd. People took a second to read the sign on his shirt before parting to make way for him. One guy with bright pink hair and studded lips even tried to kiss him on the cheek as he passed. 

Suddenly, this corner of the club didn’t seem so safe anymore. There was a splash of pale light on the floor as a bottle girl in a black leather catsuit slipped out of the kitchens. She swayed her hips back and forth, a bottle of tequila swishing in its frost-rimmed bottle against her hip. She moved up the stairs to the platform where a private bachelor party was going on, heels clicking like beetle wings rubbing together. Y/n slipped into the shadows closer to the kitchens and waited for someone — anyone — to answer the text she’d typed out with shaky fingers. 

Azriel had never heard music like this before. He didn’t even know such a sound could exist. Someone had weaponized the bass tones so it felt like a punch to the gut. A male’s deep voice, grainy and harsh, was indistinguishable from the crashing of cymbals and a strange, high clang that skittered over steady drums like a stone over water. Through layers of sound he could just make out the soft sighs of a female as she tried to tie the chaos together with her voice. 

All around him were sweaty humans decorated in shiny, colorful clothes that sparkled as they spun and jerked about. He stood a head above most, although every so often a male or female in eight-inch heels would pass by at eye level, looking him up and down like he was a meal and they were starving. 

“Hey there handsome.” Someone had found the courage to slink up to Cassian’s side — a male with pupils blown open wide enough to swallow his pale blue irises. There was alcohol on his breath and something else, something sweet and bitter at the same time. The human male smiled, teeth white and straight. Azriel had never seen a human with teeth so perfect. He was handsome — wiry and slim with a flush to his cheeks that accentuated the smattering of freckles across his tan skin. “Did you come here alone?” Rhysand and Azriel’s presence did not seem to deter him. “Did you want to leave here alone?”

Cassian sputtered in surprise. He’d never been propositioned by a male, let alone a human one. 

“I’m-I’m a mated male.” 

The male raised his brow, taking full stock of the skin-tight leathers Cassian wore. He took a deep drag of an oddly shaped pipe that lit up in the dark. “Ok. If that’s what you’re into.” A cloud of smoke spilled from his mouth — the source of the sweet and bitter smell on his lips. His eyes slid over to Rhysand, who only smirked and stuck a hand into his pocket. “And you? It doesn’t look like you’re into the leather stuff.” Then he seemed to reconsider what he’d said, looking between Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel like he’d figured out the final piece of the puzzle. He blinked in surprise, tipped back his head, and laughed. He was still laughing as he turned and walked away into the crowd. 

“What the hell was that?” Cassian asked. Azriel shrugged, shaking his head. 

“It’s a strange place we’ve landed in,” Rhysand remarked, although the comment was unnecessary. “I expect the strangeness touches everything here. Even the people.” He marveled at the scene before him. The only comparable place in Prythian was Rita’s, but even that paled in comparison to the sight before him. 

Rita’s was a pleasure house with music and drinks to spare, but everything here was… more. The music was louder, the smells an assault to the senses, and the lights changed every second and made the dancers flicker in and out of existence. Even the people seemed to have more substance to them, more color. 

Azriel loved it.

He loved the uneven floors that sucked at the bottoms of his shoes, the pulsing lights that made his eyes swim, and the sound blaring in his ears that drowned out all other thoughts. And something in the air smelled crisp and sweet to him, despite all the other competing scents that had Cassian and Rhysand wrinkling their nose in distaste. 

He strained his neck to catch better hold of the scent. His shadows clung to his body like children, hiding in the folds of his leathers. This world was not made for them, and they worried that if they strayed too far they would be left behind. 

Amren had warned them that this world was different, that its magic was different. But she hadn’t been here in thousands upon thousands of years. Who was to say what had changed in her absence and what had stayed the same?

Get in. Find what you need. Get out. Had been Nesta’s command before strumming The Harp. That’s how the three brothers had found themselves at the end of a narrow lane with boxes of metal and brick on either side. The club had been a logical next step — it was the only establishment that still whispered of life in the otherwise dead neighborhood. 

One shadow dared to explore the club, slipping past a broad-shouldered man with a scowling face and sniffing at half-full glasses of liquor with bright umbrellas laying against their salt-coated rims. Then it had caught sight of something that had it scurrying back to its master. 

Mate. The lone shadow hissed into Azriel’s ear. Mate. 

Azriel’s fluttering bird heart dove into his stomach, carrying with it all reason and restraint. There was no possible way… no. No? Right? 

Az? Rhysand steadied his brother as he stumbled back. 

She’s here? Azriel breathed. If it weren’t for his powers, Rhysand would never have heard the soft sigh escape Azriel’s lips as he searched the crowd desperately. Azriel tipped his head back, breathing in the comforting scent that held new meaning. My mate. She’s here.

What?!

Azriel ignored Rhys and dove into the crowd, head swiveling this way and that as he tried to find a familiar face he’d never seen before.

Az! Wait! But his brother was gone, and the crowd closed over the empty space he’d left behind like a healing wound. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Rhysand cursed. 

“Hey man! Where did you get your wings? They’re fucking awesome!” A plump male with cornflower blue hair and matching eyeliner piped up from behind Cassian’s back. Cassian whirled around in anger, feeling the ghost of a finger slide down his spine. No one touched his wings without his say. No one. 

The male startled back in fear. Upon seeing Cassian at his full height, he cowered against the wall, clutching a crinkled red cup against his chest. Cassian blinked in surprise. The male was wearing a black and white dress, the starched apron and collar crisp and clean. 

“Someone call the police. Now!” Someone hissed behind him.

“What seems to be the problem?” Rhysand spoke coolly. At the moment Cassian turned back to Rhysand, the maiden-male scuttled away and upstairs into the cold night. Rhysand examined his fingernails, an action that had the guard’s ruddy face turning white as he saw they were armed to the teeth.

The male’s arms hung loose and ready at his sides like two boulders, fists opening and closing slowly. “You guys need to leave. And before you say anything — I don’t give a shit if those weapons are fake or part of some Halloween costume, you can not bring them here.” 

“What fool would carry fake weapons?” Cassian asked seriously. 

The male’s face lost even more color. “Out. Now.” 

“There’s no need for—” Rhysand’s brows shot towards his hairline, violet eyes flickering up like a cat’s. Cassian, I can’t control him. 

His brother’s eyes widened. What do you mean? 

His mind — I can’t get into it. 

He’s only human!

Clearly.

The male moved forward then to grab at the knife hanging from Cassian’s side and on instinct, Cassian swung. His fist met the corner of the male’s jaw cleanly and he sank like a stone, crumbling to the floor. 

A female with glowing white lips nearby let out a strangled shriek, twisting her ankle as she grabbed her friend and sprinted towards the glowing red exit sign. All around her people began taking notice of the guard’s dark shape on the black floor and the two males that hovered over him, knives sparkling in the ever changing lights. 

I had hoped that the humans would not notice, Cassian explained. More alarmed cries erupted around them. He leaned down, carefully checking the male’s pulse. He was still alive, just knocked out cold. 

The music dimmed and then went out completely leaving an empty hole in the air that blew against the back of Cassian’s neck. Overhead lights turned on shortly after, burning with a fluorescence that had everyone hissing in pain. 

Things looked much better in the dark. In the dark no one noticed the sticky stains littering the floor, or the gum wrappers, and plastic straws, and crushed cups; the dusty strobe lights and haphazard paint jobs that left the walls bubbling with air pockets. They were also less likely to notice the three fae in their midst — 6-foot-everything and looking like they stepped out of the world’s most expensive LARPing tournament. It didn’t help that Cassian was kneeling over the man he just rendered unconscious. 

Confusion led to confused panicking, and then plain panic as people began pushing towards the exits in droves. 

I think they noticed. Rhysand looked over the crowd as they fluttered around him, but try as he might, he couldn’t enter anyone’s minds. Not even one. He didn’t like the oily vulnerability that followed, naked and unnerving. 

Cassian slung the unconscious male over his shoulder before he could be trampled beneath pairs of dusty white sneakers and stripper heels. Then it would seem it’s time for us to leave.

Where are you? Azriel cursed at no god in particular. He didn’t know which of them existed in this realm, if any did at all. 

This way. His shadows whispered, urging him towards the back corner of the club.

A battered door swung open and shut to the rhythms of females in skintight leather carrying chilled bottles in their hands. Thousands of signatures had been scrawled against the door in neon paint, and Azriel watched one of the females sign her name — Ava — in bright orange before kissing the door and slipping inside to grab another bottle. 

Just to the right of the door stood another female in ripped stockings. Bright blue glitter painted her eyes and cheeks. She bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet, playing with a hole in her sleeve as she held a shiny black box up to her ear. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU ALREADY LEFT?! I’M THE DESIGNATED DRIVER!” She yelled into the box. Her eyes kept shifting over the club. Her lipstick, already blurred from time and dancing, smeared further as she bit her lip. A swipe of her sleeve on her cheek left a faint trail of plum-colored lipstick. She slammed her finger down on the box and for one moment, the glow it let off shot across her eyes. She looked close to tears. 

Azriel froze, feeling a pressure in his chest tighten and then burst apart. He felt her fear — her anger at being abandoned by her so-called friends. It was more overwhelming than the music. If it weren’t for the thin crowd of strangers in front of him blocking his path, he might have dropped to his knees and crawled to her. 

Mate. The bond sang in his chest. Mate. 

Screams broke through the music, high and panicked, and the magic of the moment crashed all around him. The darkness broke, harsh white light colliding with them and rendering the glitters and colors the humans adorned pale and lifeless. But not his mate. She sparkled brighter in the resulting chaos, eyes narrowing in a dare as she caught Azriel staring. She was a prey animal ready to bolt. A worm preparing to turn and reveal its teeth. 

Sharp cracks of plastic on linoleum rattled the ground as leather-clad women sprinted for the kitchen door brandishing empty bottles like weapons. Y/n raced after them. 

The door flapped shut behind her before Azriel had the sense to move his feet and follow, calling out, “Wait! Please!” 

He was doing this very poorly. He knew better than to chase a female like this. Sickness twisted in his stomach as he slammed into metal doors and ran through hallways crowded with glass bottles, aluminum cans, and wrinkly lemons stacked precariously in wooden crates. 

To your right. A shadow whispered in his ear.

Azriel slid to a stop in front of a heavy metal door, its edges frosted over with cold. 

It locks from the outside.

Azriel ripped the door off its hinges and was blasted in the face by a wave of cold. Frigid air curled out of the edges of the room and slithered over the floor like smoke. A young female in a pink tutu yelped in surprise and dove for the corner of the room, hiding behind racks of beer bottles. It wasn’t his mate. 

She was just a frightened female who’d hidden in the fridge, not knowing she was trapping herself in the process. 

“Here.” Azriel said, quickly ripping a coat off the wall hook and tossing it towards her. She reached for it with shaking hands and lips, mumbling out a confused “Thank you?” as Azriel turned and hurried away. The door was no more. She could walk out of the freezer whenever she pleased now. 

Azriel chased after his mate’s scent, stumbling through grey, blank hallways that belonged to the insurance company next door. He strained his ears to hear the tell-tale pounding of her boots, but came up empty. A dull red light told Azriel to “EXIT” as he pushed against a door groaning from rust and disuse. 

He was outside once again, breathing in car exhaust and restaurant refuse.

And something sweet. 

He heard the rush of air a second too late. 

A bottle slammed into the side of his face, cracking and cutting his skin. Tequila washed over the wounds. It burned like a bitch. 

Azriel didn’t let out a groan of pain, but he did stumble, landing on his right knee with a twinge of soreness.

The female — his mate — stared at him in horror as blood began to pool at his temple and drip down the line of his jaw. She held the shattered neck of the bottle in her hands. Her shoes were gone, toes curling against the pavement with cold. 

Gods, she was beautiful. 

Cassian was a blur of movement, knocking the bottle out of her hand and wrapping his arms around her arms. She screamed, squatting down before shooting back up and locking her knees. The top of her head slammed into Cassian’s nose. A brutal, bloody crack had Cassian stumbling back, gripping his nose.

“FUCK!” He swore. 

She whipped around and sprayed a mist in his eyes that had him cursing like a madman and slapping the palms of his hands over his eyes. 

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” 

Rhysand stepped forward and cornered her against the wall. Violet eyes glittered with something bordering fury and amusement. 

“No.” Azriel moved between Rhys and his mate before she could spray him too. “No one touches her.” 

Rhys backed up immediately. This is her?

It’s her. 

He could hear her heartbeat quicker than a rabbit as she flattened herself against the wall, holding her spray out in warning. Cassian moaned in annoyance, wiping the tears that kept leaking out of his eyes.

I do not like the humans in this world. Cassian complained, sniffling. Even his nose burned.

As if Nesta wouldn’t have done this given the chance. Rhysand said. 

…I see your point. Cassian muttered. 

Be careful around this one. 

Because she’s a menace?

Rhysand smirked, flicking dust off the sleeve of his jacket. Because she’s Azriel’s mate.

Cassian straightened. His eyes darted back and forth between Rhysand, the blood dripping from Azriel’s head, and the human female. 

Oh. Cassian thought, suddenly embarrassed. We have… not made a good first impression. 

You think?! Azriel all but growled. 

Her fight or flight response was running out — her energy draining. She could feel it in her leaden limbs and the faint slowing of her heartbeat as the three men kept looking around like they were seeing each other for the first time. 

And they kept looking at her in mixtures of shock, concern, and — surprisingly — affection. 

What sick fuckery is this? She dug her fingernails into the brick, searching for cracks like she might be able to pull out a piece and throw it at them, or find some hidden portal through the wall and back into the safety of the inside. 

Were they going to kidnap her? Was she about to be shoved into a bag and tossed into some dingy trunk? But then why the wings? It was too dark to see them in their entirety, but they looked meticulous and expensive and very memorable — not ideal for kidnapping. Was this a LARPING thing? Were they Satanists? Was that how this worked?

The one in front turned. The one she’d attacked with a bargain bottle of tequila. The blood had stopped flowing and darkened against his tan skin. Hazel eyes, bright and piercing as a copper penny, looked out from a face made of elegant, serious lines. His was not a face that smiled often, beautiful as it was. The burly, rugged one looked like he was made for laughing. Smile lines gently graced his cheeks and temples. But maybe those were scars. He sported many of them, like pale whiskers over his skin. The third was the most put together of the three. Instead of strange, leather armor, he wore a suit of velvet over something stiff and protective that hugged his trim waist and broad shoulders, and his eyes were violet, not hazel. 

The elegant, unsmiling one coughed awkwardly, shifting to hide his wings. Shockingly, they slid closed behind his back, the movement so smooth it looked real. 

“I am…” His voice was a deep, gentle caress. “I am so very sorry. I did not mean to frighten you as I did. Please, forgive me.” He was… alarmingly polite, and his accent was… pleasant, although impossible to place — all soft rolls of the tongue complimented by the rich timbre of his voice. “ Please.” He spoke the last word quietly, urgently. 

Y/n said nothing. Her arm was beginning to get sore from holding out the bottle of pepper spray. Although, it can’t have been that effective if the rugged one was already recovered. Maybe it had expired without her realizing? 

“My name is Azriel,” the man spoke again quickly and gently. Even his name sounded odd. “And this is Cassian—” He pointed to the burly one,“And Rhysand.” The last of the men tilted his head in a mock bow. 

“A pleasure.” The violet-eyed one said. Rhysand’s voice was weighed down with sultry charm. He purred the words more than spoke them. 

“Pleasure,” Cassian copied, gruff but kind. 

Y/n remained silent. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. The pretty one — Azriel — stepped forward and pulled out a sleek, small blade from the belt about his waist. Y/n was about to spray him in the face when he twisted the blade so that the handle faced her.

“This will do more damage than the little bottle you carry,” he promised. “I hope this will make you more trusting of me. I swear to do you no harm. I’ll even make a bargain, if it would make you trust me long enough to explain.” His wings twitched nervously and Y/n found she couldn’t draw her eyes away from them and how real they looked. 

The three men kept looking at each other furtively. Conversations, complex and unknowable, hide in every twitch of their eyes.

“Speak out loud,” Azriel snarled at them finally. “You’re frightening her.” 

Rhysand smiled apologetically at the female. “We need to leave. Now. You can hear the humans coming as well as I can.” 

Y/n bristled at that, and a detached feeling of horror came over her. “Are you not… are you not human?” 

Cassian gawked at her, speaking his wings out far and wide. “Do the humans of this world have wings?” 

She sputtered to answer, fear giving way to curiosity. Azriel took advantage of that, moving close enough that he slid the blade into her hand. It was a cool, welcome weight against her hot, sweaty skin. Up close she saw he had freckles dotting the high corners of his cheeks and that his hair came alive with dark tendrils of smoke that wafted off his skin like steam. They wrapped around her and she heard their strange whispers in her ears like white noise. 

“We’re not human. We’re not even from this world.” The sirens were only a block away now and Azriel swore beneath his breath. More of those dark tendrils shot out like shadows and dulled the noises of incoming fire trucks, cop cars, and EMTs. “I swear to you that I will explain more, but we must go. Please.” He took hold of her wrist, angling the blade he’d given her right beneath his last rib. 

It was a dramatic declaration — if she wanted to kill him and run away, he would let her. 

Y/n swallowed thickly, her mind thick with fog and the dying embers of adrenaline. “I—I parked a few blocks down that way. I can take us somewhere else.” 

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief and she pulled away from him, taking with her any shred of comfort he’d felt since coming to this world. 

Somehow they managed to walk the quarter of a mile to her car without being stopped once by another living soul. She suspected it had to do with the shadows that now poured off of Azriel’s skin and trailed after her. She could feel them licking at her heels like curious dogs… or blood thirsty wolves. 

She gripped the knife tightly in her hand, stretching her fingers to wrap around the steering wheel as she drove through familiar roads on autopilot. Azriel watched her curiously as she stopped at a red light and clicked her blinker on. 

None of the men looked comfortable squished into her tiny sedan, wings tucked in so tight they cramped. Cassian’s boot was stretched out on the center console, almost reaching the gear shift. Rhysand was hunched over in the back seat, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the headrest in front of him to keep from getting sick. 

“What is this cursed thing?” He grumbled, then promptly shut up when Y/n took them down a local road with craters that had them jolting and jerking for a mile. “This metal box… I do not like it.” 

Azriel and Cassian ignored their brother. Az was too busy paying attention to his mate and politely explaining the complexity of their situation, and Cassian was too busy looking out the window at the houses that passed by. He could hear the unfamiliar hum of electricity like a dragonfly's wings. 

By the time she pulled the sedan down a beaten road to a quiet, homely one-bedroom house, her mind was swimming with words and phrases she could barely string together — Koschei, fae, Illyrians, seers. It was worse than when she’d spent two all-nighters cramming for an exam in college fueled by nothing but Red Bull and desperation. 

Before the keys were even out of the ignition, Rhysand was spilling out of the car and breathing in gasps of clean, woodsy air. Gravel crunched under his feet. Once this road had been paved, but time and weather had broken up the asphalt until only chunky black rocks remained. Green grass, not yet killed off by Autumn frost, grew in uneven tufts up to Y/n’s squat, brown-sided house, skirting around the makeshift garden in the backyard before disappearing into the woods beyond. Neighboring homes inched as close as they could to the main road, half-submerged in golden brown trees that trembled in the wind. 

The porch steps creaked, flexing in the center like backs ready to break, but they’d recently been cleaned and painted over with a fresh coat of white. The front door had been given similar treatment, although it was painted green. A small Autumn wreath hung from a nail. 

Y/n fumbled with the keys, fingers shaking and numb from the cold. 

“Here,” Azriel murmured, gently taking them from her. His shadows could have unlocked the front door in less than a second, but he was in no mood to test his mate’s patience and understanding. The fact that she’d driven them to her home in the dead of night was testament to the uneasy trust she’d placed in them. 

A disgruntled meow greeted them as they filed into the short and narrow entryway. Cassian bumped into the entry dresser with his wings and nearly jumped out of his skin when the dark monstrosity that sat by a ceramic dish full of rings hissed. 

It was the fattest cat Cassian had ever seen. 

Acidic yellow-green eyes narrowed at him, as if sensing his judgment, and the cat’s whiskers twitched along with its pink button nose. 

“Jefferson, be nice.” Y/n reprimanded the cat, scooping up its rotund body into her arms. The cat swatted her shoulder once, then consented to being held. He did not like strangers in his house, even if they were Y/n’s guests. “This is Jefferson.” She looked behind her back to the rest of the house. “And this is my home.” 

She busied herself preparing for her unexpected guests. She scoured the bathroom closet for spare toothbrushes, towels, and lotions, and pulled out the thickest blankets she could find. One person could sleep on the pull out couch, the other two would have to fight for the best spot on the floor. 

Azriel watched her as she moved. It was not a large house — it was barely even a cottage — and it took his shadows a short time to familiarize themselves with your home. 

A lumpy couch, wicker armchair, and coffee table made up the living room, tied together by a retro rug that may have once been white, but was now a respectable beige. Four mismatched chairs huddled around a scratched wooden table near the kitchen, one of which carried a stuffy cushion that held the imprint of Jefferson’s soft body. 

The cat watched them from the kitchen counter with its piercing eyes, and did not seem at all concerned when a stray shadow wound around its tail. 

Pathetic. All of them! Were the cat’s thoughts. Master will not like this.

His eyes did soften when Y/n returned from her bedroom, arms heavy with blankets and sheets and pillows. Azriel quickly relieved her of her burden, promising that they’d spent nights in worse conditions than a heated house with bedding and clean floors. 

She seemed charmed by that and almost smiled. Almost.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, and the bathroom’s by the front door. I’ve already put some toothbrushes and towels in there if you need them.”

“Thank you,” Azriel said softly, tilting his head in a faint bow. His brothers followed suit before busying themselves laying out blankets and pillows like they’d done this a thousand times before — which they had. 

Y/n nodded curtly and swept a judgmental Jefferson into her arms before disappearing into her room. Azriel heard the lock click into place and the rummaging of drawers as she pulled out an extra can of pepper spray, a pair of scissors, and the three knives she’d taken from the kitchen. She bolted her windows and drew the curtains closed and even stuffed a towel into the space beneath her doors just in case.  

She was meticulous and careful despite her generosity, and Azriel found himself smitten at her resourcefulness. 

Stop thinking about her and go the fuck to sleep, Az. Cassian grumbled. He could feel the longing dripping off of Azriel’s shoulders. She’ll feel more comfortable if she knows we’re asleep. 

How much would you like to bet she kills us in the night? Rhysand asked, and then seemed amused by the prospect of it. 

I’d worry more about the cat. Cassian chuckled. Then he turned over onto his stomach and was out like a light. Centuries spent in war camp barracks and makeshift battlefield tents had taught him to steal sleep wherever and whenever he could. 

Rhysand was quick to follow suit, although centuries as a High Lord had pampered him just a little. 

Azriel stayed awake, waiting to hear your heartbeat and breathing slow to a comfortable pace. But it never happened. Not even as the sunlight trickled in and touched the light-bleached floors. 

[urfavouritegirlie]

Hobie HC's

Is of Jamaican descendant. His grandparents moved to England from Jamaica because of the job opportunities.

Has 5 older sisters and he's the youngest. (Knows how to treat women)

Is his dads favourite child.

Knows how to cook Jamaican dishes and does it passionately.

He loves jerk chicken. (Who doesn't?)

Has a big family. Uncles and aunties and a whole bunch of cousins ranging from 30s to babies.

Very family orientated before he was bitten.

Is distant to them now so they won't be in danger. Only close to his immediate family but only see them a few times.

His extended family think he's a rebel and a disappointment but they don't know him like his family do.

Excelled at school even though he thinks the school system is fraud.

Got his first piercing when he was 14. Asked his 5th born sister to go with him.

Had a hard time hiding the fact he is Spiderman until he found a place of his own. Small cheap apartment.

Hates politicians.

If some of them were campaigning to be Prime Minister he would would play his guitar on multiple speakers on high volume to disturb.

Has a good amount of money from when he modelled. Designers were begging him to model their latest outfits because they loved his look. Tall and slim. Immediately quit after big brands were after him. Did not want that kind of attention.

Prefers to do small shows with his band.

Was given so many numbers on pieces of paper from girls backstage.

Does not call any of them.

When he met Miles, got the need to protect him like an older brother. Was a nice change for him.

Has been suspicious of Miguel but doesn't show it. Waited till something happened aka Miles.

Can sip Wray and Nephews and not feel a thing. He has a limit tho.

Has a folder of drawings from kids that draw him.

Is an uncle to a nephew and two nieces. Sends them gifts 'from uncle Hobs'.

Check out the Miles 1610 HC’s right here

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Love Sea Novel Excerpt: A BJ, Face-Riding, and the First Bareback

** From Chapters 20 "A Body as a Thank You" and 21 "8 out of 10 (?)"

He wanted to rely on this man.

For someone like him who never trusted or depended on anyone and didn't want anyone's insincere goodwill, the moment he heard those words, Tongrak wanted to bury his face in Mahasamut's broad shoulders. He wanted to be held tightly and be assured that his father would never return to harm his family again. But what should he do?

How should Tongrak express it so that Mahasamut would understand how desperately he needed this embrace?

Once again, Mahasamut's boldness came to his aid as the large hand slipped around his waist, pulling him close against his broad chest, the other hand slowly stroking his slender back.

"It's okay, you have me."

Normally, Tongrak would've retorted... What good does having you do?

But what Tongrak did was... grasp the back of Mahasamut's shirt.

Everything inside Tongrak calmed down instantly.

His cheek was warm as it was pressed against a shoulder. His back was warm from the caressing hand. His heart fluttered from the close embrace, and this man made him feel at peace.

It was enough for Tongrak to utter these words.

"Thank you, Mahasamut. Thank you."

Thank you for being here and for standing by me.

While the listener was momentarily stunned, a smile soon returned to grace his handsome face, Mahasamut's eyes shining with affection.

Looks like it's time to tease and change the mood a bit.

"What's that? I didn't hear you."

Mahasamut waited to see the frowning face looking up at him, the sexy, deep voice that would curse him for wanting a mile when given an inch. Not... the fair arms that rose to wrap around his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss like this.

It wasn't just lips touching lips.

Bright red lips pressed firmly, a warm tongue slid into his mouth, entwining with his in a hungry dance, turning the initial surprise into a familiar response. Mahasamut's hands wrapped tightly around the slender waist, allowing the person in his arms to kiss him to his heart's content.

But Tongrak seemed insatiable.

His slender body demanded more with a flick of his tongue. Hands that once embraced his neck now cradled Mahasamut's jaw, urging him to accept an increasingly fierce kiss. The sound of saliva mingling with the lapping tongues was loud in their ears.

As Mahasamut responded, Tongrak demanded more.

They didn't know how long they kissed, but neither wanted to be the first to stop, as if wishing it could go on forever.

It was a sweet and wet kiss.

"Mmn."

Moans and heavy breaths resonated, vibrating through their mouths, shaking them both.

It had been an eternity before the slender figure finally pulled away, gasping for breath. His face was flushed, his lips bruised red, and their breaths were so close they mingled against each other's skin. The scorching breath fanned across Mahasamut's cheek as the most handsome man he'd ever seen pressed close to him, the man who'd bitten his lip, prompting Mahasamut to reach up and stroke his cheek.

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" Mahasamut asked in a low voice, looking into the eyes that reflected his own image.

And then...

"What are you doing?"

Even Mahasamut was caught off guard when Tongrak pulled away from him. The writer didn't go far. Instead, he kneeled on the floor in front of the sofa, reaching to undo Mahasamut's pants. This prompted a stern question from Mahasamut, who looked down at the man gazing up at him and then back down at the crotch of his pants.

"Can I?"

Mahasamut was nearly driven crazy as the proud face descended upon his manhood, cheeks rubbing against it before speaking in a pleading tone.

Even if Tongrak hadn't asked, he'd have given permission anyway, but this was...

The southern man, his skin tanned by the sun, could only stare at the person who was pulling his engorged member out with a look of rapturous fascination. Fair hands cradled it gently, eyes filled with desire, yet still waiting for his consent.

Then, Mahasamut said, his voice dropping even lower, fingertips brushing against Tongrak's cheek.

"Do whatever you want. I'm already yours."

The look in Mahasamut's eyes, the response in his voice, and the light touch that felt scalding against Tongrak's skin...

Tongrak wanted Mahasamut.

Tongrak's handsome face was a clear display of desire, stirring Mahasamut's primal instincts. All he could do was watch as Tongrak stroked him. Tongrak's bright tongue circled his lips before the soft, pliant mouth Mahasamut knew to be so sweetly intoxicating enveloped his core.

"Ah," Mahasamut exhaled in contentment, his emotions so intense he had to tense his thighs.

Tongrak seemed to enjoy this reaction, his warm mouth nibbling and sucking along the length, his hand's touch gliding it, his moist tongue creating a tantalizing sensation for the recipient. Mahasamut's eyes shone with unbridled desire, his blood boiling to the point where veins bulged on his strong neck.

But Tongrak wanted more.

The man stroked, sucked, and licked, the heat like embers but slick in the way that he wanted to take it fully into his mouth. Yet Tongrak refrained, deliberately circling the taut head with his tongue. He felt tenseness from the one placing his hands on his shoulders before licking the tiny hole on the tip, tasting his precum until Mahasamut growled in his throat.

"You're wicked," Mahasamut whispered hoarsely by his ear, and then...

With no hesitation, Tongrak took his erection into his mouth, his soft tongue licking along the length, lips tightly wrapped to pull and suck on the substantial size that pushed deep into his throat.

He wanted more, so much more.

The thought made the writer move faster, sucking hard, feeling the man sitting with his legs spread tense up. Mahsamut's heavy breathing fueled his own arousal.

Now, it wasn't just Mahasamut who was overwhelmed with emotion; the heat also centered in the core of Tongrak. His legs were inadvertently squeezed together, rubbing to relieve the intense craving, but he didn't want to stop his mouth either.

The sound of flesh against a soft tongue mingled with the sound of clear liquid spilling over the edge of the mouth, but Tongrak still wasn't satisfied.

"You'll hurt yourself!" Mahasamut's dark eyes blazed, and a deep voice half-growled in warning. Large hands firmly grasped Tongrak's slender shoulders because Tongrak was going to hurt himself in pain.

But instead of stopping, the man being pushed away simply pressed his cheek against the substantial size, using his tongue to lick along it. His beautiful, tear-filled eyes locked onto Mahasamut, signaling a frenzy of emotion, and his hoarse voice whispered, "Do it."

And as if afraid Mahasamut wouldn't understand, he added...

"Fuck my mouth, will you?"

Mahasamut clenched his jaw nearly to the point of breaking.

Normally, just a command would nearly kill Mahasamut, but this... with that look on Tongrak's face, begging like that...

Why wouldn't Mahasamut notice how Tongrak moved his hips and the adorable part that bulged provocatively in his pants, signaling a desperate need for release? Yet, he still insisted on satisfying him until Mahasamut abandoned any sense of responsibility.

His large hand yanked Tongrak's arm, pulling him back up on the sofa. He looked at Tongrak, who was resisting because he still wanted to play with Mahasamut's cock in his mouth. Mahasamut had to lock his wrists above his head. His legs straddled over the pretty face, just like the hot, taut member that was pressed against Tongrak's lips.

"Here it is," Mahasamut said with a hoarse voice, his large hand guiding his member to rub against the pretty lips, watching his precum smear on the soft flesh in a lascivious display.

While Tongrak's lips... parted.

Damn it!

As if he'd forgotten how to think, Mahasamut thrust his rigid part into the scorching cavity in one swift motion.

He hadn't gone all the way in, but...

"Ah!" It was the man underneath who pushed his own face forward, taking it deep into the throat!

Mahsamut's sharp eyes narrowed, trying to control himself from thrusting into such a pretty throat that felt so good it was maddening. Seeing Tongrak's pained expression, as if he couldn't breathe, Mahasamut knew that taking it all in wasn't something just anyone could do. Therefore, he tensed up to restrain himself, even as sweat dripped down his face, his hands clenched, his teeth grinding so hard that the veins in his neck bulged.

He really wanted to thrust to the very end.

"Fuck," the younger man roared, using his hands to brace against the sofa, panting heavily. His sun-kissed skin flushed a sexy red, while his fierce face still looked down at the man underneath who insisted on playing with his cock incessantly.

Tongrak still moved his head, sucking and pulling as if it were the most delicious thing in the world, and this image was about to make Mahasamut lose all patience.

"I'm sorry."

"Ughhhh!"

Mahsamut grabbed the back of Tongrak's head and pushed himself in, looking into the honey-colored eyes that shed tears in pain, but still insistently sucked and licked him. And that made the man who had been trying to hold back comply with what Tongrak wanted.

He wanted to 'fuck' this man.

"Ughhh, ah, ha!!"

The man underneath moaned through tears, but then placed his hands on the larger ones again, forcing Mahasamut to be even more aggressive. Mahasamut, who'd been restraining himself since arriving in Bangkok, lost all patience.

The sound of heavy breathing mingled with the sound of flesh thrusting deep into the narrow throat, the sound of saliva mixing with desire, becoming a rough rhythm.

"I... want to come inside."

And with that, the lewd thoughts escaped from Mahasamut's mouth.

He wanted to bury himself in the scorching walls that clenched him, to thrust to the very end and release everything, to let everyone know whom Tongrak belonged to.

And it wasn't just a desire.

"Ah, ugh."

Mahasamut thrust into Tongrak's throat all the way, then pulled out, letting Tongrak cough forcefully. He quickly moved aside, pulling down the writer's pants and boxers and tossing them down beside the sofa. Mahasamut's hands parted the slender legs, spreading them wide before spitting on his palm to use as lubricant. THen, he slid his finger deep into the tight entrance.

Fuck.

Again, Mahasamut cursed to himself as the tight, clenching entrance nearly drove him mad, not to mention the fair hips that arched up to meet his penetrating touch.

Huh, ah," Tongrak moaned incoherently.

At this moment, the burning sensation of the fingers that were prepping Tongrak was nothing compared to the immediate lust that arose as soon as the fingers penetrated the tight hole. Tongrak wanted the larger part to penetrate, to feel the burning pain that made his insides tingle and the heat flare up in his lower stomach.

"Just fuck me now," Tongrak cried out, his legs spreading even wider.

He wanted it right now!

"Ahhh!!! Huh, ah, ah," Tongrak screamed out loud as the intense heat pressed against the entrance instead of fingers. It quickly thrust deep inside, sending shivers through him, his back arching like a bow.

The tension and sting were nothing compared to the tingling thrill that spread throughout Tongrak's body, bringing tears to his eyes. His hips twitched, his hands grasping at Mahasamut's neck as he took the large shaft that was slowly but deeply thrusting into him. His flushed face tilted back, tears brimming in his eyes.

Mahsamut saw that expression clearly and pulled the slender body up to sit astride his waist. His large hands shifted to cup the fair thighs, squeezing the soft buttocks, parking them to make way, and then...

"Uh!"

Tongrak thought it was as deep as it could go, but this position drove it even deeper, making his hands claw onto the broad shoulders. His tear-streaked face buried into Mahasamut's shoulder as he moaned.

As the hips continued to move, Tongrak whimpered, his voice caught in his throat as Mahasamut forced him to ride the large core beneath him.

Each time the hot shaft penetrated his inside deeply, a hoarse moan echoed. Tongrak felt both pain and tightness but, above all, a deep satisfaction.

He liked how wild Mahasamut was with him, how fierce, but... without causing real pain.

"I can't hold back anymore."

"Ah!"

As Mahasamut finished speaking, he didn't hesitate to thrust himself more forcefully into the tight space, his large hands kneading the soft buttocks relentlessly. His thrusting hips became more violent, his lips seeking the sweet spot on Tongrak's neck, his hot tongue licking the throat, his sharp teeth biting the Adam's apple, then nibbling down on it hard.

Each bite made the one in Mahasamut's arms flinch. Tongrak dug his feet into the sofa and rubbed his midsection on the firm abdomen.

Their intensity was such that even the high-quality sofa creaked. The other thing keeping it moving was probably the carpet underneath.

They were so intense that the sounds of their bodies colliding, the exchange of saliva, and the noise of thick fluids splashing around filled the air, and then...

"Do it again, harder," the beauty in his arms teased Mahasamut relentlessly.

Mahasamut pushed the fair body down again to lie flat, to... control the rhythm himself.

Tongrak's fair skin turned a flushed red, tears streaming down his cheeks, his body writhing in intense pleasure. All of this was in Mahasamut's view as he lifted the fair leg over his shoulders, pushing into the searing heat with even more force.

"Ah, yes, good, ugh, Mahasamut."

"Damn it!"

Mahasamut thrust again, and moans filled the living room. The body beneath him shuddered, twitching violently, releasing a milky fluid across his abdomen, which only spurred Mahasamut to follow suit.

"Cum inside, uh, me, ah."

Mahasamut thought to ease up, but the pleading cries of the one beneath him, whose body was twitching, made his body defy his thoughts. It was like a command that drove him mad. He thrust to the base, feeling the tight embrace that almost shattered his jaw. He released thick fluid, flooding the soft hole until it overflowed.

Who taught Tongrak to be such a tease!?

Tongrak lay spent, panting, but the beauty had awakened his primal instincts. As soon as Mahasamut pulled out, his large hand spread the pale thighs apart, his sharp eyes observing the pretty hole that clenched tightly with milky fluid leaking out. Mahasamut licked his lips.

This time, it's all on you, Tongrak.

"Ah, what are you... doing? Ah, Mahasamut don't... don't lick it, ugh, it's dirty," the one beneath him pushed against his broad shoulders, the fair hips jerking up, the waistline trembling with pleasure.

But do you realize that your tight part was eagerly twitching with pleasure from my licking?

And yes, what Mahasamut was doing.... was sliding his tongue into the burning hole.

The action made Tongrak's eyes widen, clear tears streaming from his eyes.

"Don't..."

That command made Mahasamut's sharp eyes look up.

Tongrak was the one seducing him.

"You like it."

Mahasamut ran his tongue along the narrow crevice in one go, making Tongrak gasp. Then, he added, "So much."

With just two words, they conveyed Tongrak's thoughts completely.

Mahasamut had already mentioned that he wanted to do several things with Tongrak. If both parties consented, it'd transform from being considered perverse to a delightful sexual pleasure.

Tongrak lay down on the soft sofa, raised a hand to cover his eyes, and then whispered, "Don't stop, keep going."

And that made Mahasamut's eyes sparkle with excitement.

The tall one didn't hesitate to bury his face into the enticingly private area, his wicked tongue probing deeply into the moist crevice, feeling the twitching and tensing of the person who moaned softly, a sign of how much Tongrak enjoyed it. Meanwhile, the once weakened part was becoming hard again.

"Mahasamut, more, do it again."

Mahasamut could say for sure that this was just the beginning.

And the person who'd brought out a hidden side of him was none other than the one in his embrace, the very person who was now making seductive sounds.

It seemed that Tongrak had indeed awakened a fierce demon within.

---

---

Beneath the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp, a sun-kissed man stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair. His sharp eyes fixed on the faint silhouette of a rounded form nestled under the thick blanket. A smile curled at the corner of his mouth, fondness evident for the one who'd escaped to bed before him.

Mahasamut tossed the towel into the laundry basket, not hesitating to slip under the same blanket.

"Who said you could get in here?"

"Oh, no one, I'm just shameless," Mahasamut replied instantly, chuckling. His large hand slipped around a slender waist, pulling the warm body into his embrace. His gaze lingered on the one who verbally protested but willingly turned to rest against his chest.

Tongrak is so damn cute.

The guy was so adorable that Mahasamut couldn't help but...

"Where are you touching!?"

The moment his large hand ventured to squeeze the soft butt, the person in his arms jolted, letting out a surprised yelp. Tongrak looked up with a pout, prompting Mahasamut to plant a quick kiss on his lips, asking softly, "Does it still hurt?"

"Why would it not? Your thing isn't so tiny," Tongrak mumbled, but despite his words, the persistent hand continued to gently stroke his backside, as if knowing Tongrak still felt a deep-seated tenderness there.

Well, it feels strange after he took that thing out. With someone that size doing it that rough, not feeling anything would be crazy.

Tongrak grumbled and then rested his cheek against the warm chest.

After their heated activities in the living room, they continued in the bedroom, ending with Mahasamut carrying Tongrak to the bathroom for a thorough wash. The kind of cleaning that involved scooping out every last sticky remnant, forgetting the image of simply cuddling to sleep after climax. Tongrak said that was too messy!

So now, Tongrak laid freshly scented and content on a bed with newly changed sheets.

And it certainly wasn't Tongrak who changed them.

Mahasamut, the one who changed the sheets and bathed him, also being the last to shower, looked at the fair-skinned person with sparkling eyes. The desire to pinch those fair cheeks and kiss those pouting lips was overwhelming. Perhaps the thought was too intense, for the squeezing hand pressed a bit too firmly, prompting a punch on the chest by the one in his embrace.

"How long are you going to keep squeezing?"

"Well, can I tease you with a finger then?"

Mahasamut meant a tease involving a finger in that part.

At this moment, Mahasamut's fingers slipped into the unguarded crevice, gently smoothing the tender entrance, causing Tongrak to startle. The young writer knew full well that Mahasamut wasn't just playing. If he gave in even slightly, he'd end up having to shower again. So he spoke with a heavy, hoarse voice from too much moaning earlier, "Stop, it stings."

"Should I apply some ointment?"

Mahasamut paused, his initial playful intent giving way to a gentle touch on the sensitive area. He massaged softly until Tongrak had to object with a trembling voice.

"Stop touching there, or I'll get hard."

And it won't end with just applying ointment.

As the suggestive reply made the concerned man smile, the large hand shifted to soothingly stroking the soft butt cheeks, pleased to have a certain someone snuggled close. If asked whether Mahasamut preferred their passionate encounters or just cuddling, Mahasamut couldn't choose. He only knew he liked having Tongrak in his arms.

---

They talk about how Mahasamut can help deal with Tongrak's father and then---

---

"About my father... I know what he wants. I'll just give it to him. And if you want to help..." Tongrak met Mahasamut's gaze with seriousness. "Meena's important to me."

The listener smiled back, his voice even more earnest while saying, "Then she's important to me, too."

Because you are important to me.

Even though he didn't say it out loud, Mahasamut thought Tongrak understood as the pretty face turned away quickly, cheeks flushing amidst the soft light. Plus, Tongrak was trying to hide his shyness with a forced, stern voice, not realizing how incredibly sexy that husky tone was.

"Stop grabbing my butt already."

"Haha, I can't help it. It feels nice."

Mahasamut laughed heartily, unable to resist teasing the one pretending to fuss in his embrace. Then, he asked, "On a scale of one to ten, what do I get?"

"Huh?"

Mahasamut loved the wide-eyed look of confusion on Tongrak's face.

"My sex skills," Mahasamut said, bursting into laughter as the listener opened his mouth slightly as if wanting to curse but then stopped, unsure how to scold such a shameless person.

So, Mahasamut teased even more. "I'm pretty confident in my own skills. Actually, ten is too low. I think it should be a hundred..."

"Eight."

While the overconfident man continued to tease, the one wanting to curse interjected immediately, causing Mahasamut to stop mid-sentence and look at the one who repeated, "I give you an eight."

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER ONE: WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ A large machine stationed on both sides of the room, pointed ends meeting each other. A particle accelerator. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne wc: 2.1k

In every universe the Spider is a hero. Some go by different names, some can create their own organic webs, and some have their own cat burglar to wrestle with. One constant, for sure, is that they all are bitten by a spider. You are not the exception.

You were bit when you were 13, and for the last 5 years, you have been the “one and only” Spinnerette! It had been a rocky start, but things are looking okay now. You’ve got a family, a real, strong and fun family.

“You’ve been officially added to my hitlist, Tony, watch you’re motherfucking back.”

“Oh, goody. You might be the only person who hasn’t hired a sniper on me before.”

Loving family, of course.

There was an idea to put together a group of remarkable people to see if they could fight the battles humanity could not. It was called the “Avenger Initiative.” A billionaire, super soldier, scientist, Russian spy, master archer and a God walk into a Shawarma restaurant, wonder what it leads to. The Avengers currently all (mostly) live in the former Stark Tower.

You also currently live in the former Stark Tower. It’s a dream come true. Everyone is happy, everyone is healthy, and your relationships with each Avenger is thriving.

“When’s the last time you ate, kiddo?” asks Tony, stepping inside your personal lab he had gifted you for your 15th birthday. Your hands move deftly, fluid and familiar in fixing your web-shooters.

“A definitely normal time,” is your reply. “Hey, what did you do with the Iron Spider suit? I’ve been looking for it everywhere. I’m thinking about tweaking some of the web combinations.”

“It’s charging, where else would it be? Also, here.” He puts a bag of sandwiches from Delmar’s. You grin and reach out for it. “You know me so well.”

“I know you best,” he clicks, and reaches out to ruffle your hair, only because you let him. “Can you tell Nat I fixed her widow bites? And tell Sam I fixed that dent in his wings, too.” You take a bite of a sandwich. “I’m unna pakrol inna vit.”

He pinches your cheek. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s disgraceful.” Stay safe.

“[Name], it may be more efficient to patrol without music blasting in your ears,” says your ever so faithful AI, Karen.

You huff goodnaturedly. “ Ear , Karen. Singular. It’s never screwed me over before, I promise I am a responsible music listener.” The thwip of your webs shooting out has always been a comforting sound. It’s a reminder, of who you are, of what you stand for. All your accomplishments (failures too, but the pain is grounding.) “Also, please place an order for the new Batman comic, I forgot to do it earlier.”

“I find it contradicting how you say you are a casual enjoyer, yet own nearly every issue of any and all related Batman comics.”

“I don’t believe in consistency… or whatever Hobie would say.”

The discovery and confirmation of the multiverse was not as surprising as it should’ve been, but it was daunting all the same. You’ve never really been alone since your life at the Tower, but it was a whole new type of connection, finding out there were other Spiders, other you’s . Then, of course, there was that whole “Miles, you’re the original anomaly!” fiasco. Luckily, the situation ended up resolved, and there are (mostly) no hard feelings. You haven’t met another [Name] [L.Name] yet, but there are plenty of other Spider’s to learn from.

“Numerous suspicious activity reports have taken place downtown. I suggest checking it out.”

“You’re the boss, Karen.” You twist your body, changing your momentum and direction, heading downtown. You do flips and tricks, with all the grace of a ballerina. The nanotech is perfectly flexible enough for your dramatics. Tony had spontaneously made the suit for you, as the fabric of your old one didn’t provide as much armor as he needed for peace of mind.

“I am detecting a multiversal instability. Tread carefully.”

The eyes of your suit squint. “Get Miguel on this.”

It isn’t often a multiversal problem pops up in your universe. With people like Stephen Strange and Wanda Maximoff holding cosmic power in relation to interdimensional activity, and the Space Stone itself, your universe holds up well in defense to multiverse activity. But even so, space is unpredictable.

Miguel, despite all his grievances with you and the Peter Parker of Earth-199999, equipped you both with a Web-Watch (you and the other Spiderlings agreed Gizmo was lame). You don’t use it much unless it’s to go chill at the Spider HQ or visit the other ‘Lings in their universes. Whatever iota of guilt he felt after the whole Miles thing manifested itself as overprotectiveness, and he insists on dealing with all spatial related problems himself. You’ll indulge him, if only to bother him about the tech in his universe.

You’re met with a warehouse, abandoned, because of course it is. “No heat signature’s,” you mumble, the suit scanning for signs of life. You hop down through a hole in the roof silently, looking around. There’s random tech and machine parts scattered around, which is never a good sign. It’s easy to miss for the untrained eye, but you spot a hidden elevator mechanism and step inside it. If anything goes wrong, you trust your spider-sense to get you the hell out of dodge.

The way down is ominous, if not for the almost complete darkness, then for the red blinking lights. Your sense tingles, not sensing any immediate danger, but very uncomfortable down here.

d on’t feel good not safe for long leave quickly

Going en pointe (because going on your actual tippy toes to increase stealth is just way too good), you sneak carefully. Just because there are no living dangers doesn’t mean there are none at all. The room is as dark as the rest of the place, and while you can turn on night vision, it’s not as efficient in understanding what the hell you might be looking at.

“Karen, is there a light switch in here?” Your voice echoes in the large room.

“To your left, [Name].” Sure enough, there actually is a light switch that you find after groping the wall. “Huh,” you hum, pleasantly surprised. A flick of the switch activates the many overhead lights and reveals a daunting sight.

A large machine stationed on both sides of the room, pointed ends meeting each other.

A particle accelerator.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Ok- uh. Karen, contact Tony, and Bruce. Can you tell if it’s been active recently?”

“I am picking up a recent signal, yes. I theorize the recent earthquakes are because of test runs.”

Miles once told you his story. Finding the particle accelerator, his Spider-Man’s death. You remember placing a hand on his shoulder, and you remember him grasping it tightly. It was a complicated time in his life.

“How did he destroy it again…?” you murmur, looking around the machine. “A goober.. right. How did Peni make it, though?” Pulling up your wrist, you scan the machine. “Please contact Peni as well, K.”

Stilling your posture, you look up at the accelerator. You have no doubt nothing good will come from whoever is behind this. Those who try to manipulate powers greater than them always receive a rude awakening. Maybe, by the grace of some higher power, you can somehow rope the Space Stone into this. You know better than to think they don’t have some kind of sentience. Maybe you’re just getting ahead of yourself–

watch out! behind you!

When you turn around, there’s nothing behind you. You’re on high alert now. Your sense doesn’t make mistakes, so either a sniper is pointing his gun at you, or someone who can cloak themselves in around you, and neither of those are good. You breathe in, honing your senses, the situation is far too delicate for you to stumble.

“Show yourself,” you demand. “If you’re smart enough to build this then understand when I say I will find you.”

there! right there!

You turn and send a web to where your senses pointed. The person grunts, trapped in your solution. You pull them toward you. “Show yourself,” you repeat.

A sigh leaves the person's mouth. Then, slowly, their form reveals itself. It’s like Miles' ability to go invisible. Before you is someone your age, must be. And yet the way they carry themselves is reminiscent of somebody who has been through far too much for someone their age. So, basically every Spider you know.

Which is on brand apparently, because this person must be like you. There is no other possibility. The web patterns on their suit, the bug eyes of their mask, the invisibility thing.

“You’re…” you mutter.

“Like you,” they finish.

Your eyes narrow. “The hell are you doing, man? Surely a Spider knows this if some fuckshit,” you gesture to the massive machine. “What are you even doing here?”

Their suits eyes squint. “It’s a delicate matter.”

“Yeah. Obviously,” you roll your eyes. “Not like a bridge to different dimensions is any walk in the park.”

“It’s none of your business,” they huff.

“Hell yeah, it is. You’re me, basically. You’re building a particle accelerator in my universe. By the way, let’s talk about that. Why not just carry out your evil plans in your own home? Did Venom get you or something? We can like, do something about that. Probably–”

“Enough nonsense,” they spit.

“Oh, okay.”

The room lights up, and the particle accelerator whirls to life. The room shakes, no doubt another earthquake beginning to affect the city. A whirlwind of colors fill your vision. Your hand curls the cuff of their suit into your fist.

“What did you do.”

“I’m doing what I have to.”

It happens fast, far faster than your senses could have warned you. Your web restricting them snaps and their hands grab you.

“You’ll survive.” Their hands destroy your watch. “I’m not so cruel.”

And you’re thrown into the web of the universe.

Waking up in an unfamiliar environment has happened far more times than it should have. It’s instinct that pulls you up from the ground. Your body is sore, your head hurts, and the eyes of your suit are genuinely tweaking.

“Karen…” you groan.

“I am unable to connect to any Mr. Stark’s satellites. I detect multiple bruises all over your body, no broken bones. The suit is in functioning condition, 92% charge left.”

“Yeah, we are definitely not in New York anymore. My New York, anyway.” You look up. Your environment is gloomy, the skies are gray, and the buildings have seen better days.

“I’ve connected to the satellites I can detect that are currently in orbit.”

“I need out of this suit, K.” The nanites retract into your web-shooters, now disguised as regular bracelets. You pause and think. “Gimme some glasses, actually. I still need you.” A couple of nanites crawl up your body and form frames on your face. “I can always count on you, K.”

“I’ve created a route to a public library with computers for you.”

The walk to the library has you on edge. Your sense isn’t exactly reacting like it would when you’re in immediate danger, but it’s buzzing constantly. You sigh to yourself. There should’ve been a protocol made for this as soon as you found out about the multiverse. It would’ve definitely been called the “We’re Not In Kansas Anymore Protocol.”

“I’ll start making that protocol for you,” Karen says. You hadn’t realized you’d been talking outloud, sighing. “Thanks, K.”

People keep glancing at you when you walk by before ultimately minding their own business. You’re sure that you give them that uncanny valley feeling, even if you look like a regular human. Effects of being from another universe, you guess. 

Walking up the steps to the library, you think about your next move. You should worry about living your situation. You have no clue how long you’ll be here before someone finds you (or, god forbid, you build your own way back home). You know how to be sneaky and steal, hopefully it doesn’t have to come to that though. You look up, thinking, and pause when your eyes spot something.

Gotham City Public Library.

What. The. Fuck.

In hindsight, it shouldn’t be so surprising. Infinite universes, infinite possibilities, so on and so forth. It had never crossed your thoughts that the silly stories you like (read: obsess over) could be a real universe out there. You don’t like to think about it too hard.

“Karen. Where are we.”

“My map tells me we are currently located in Gotham City, New Jersey.” Big yikes.

“Okay. Change of plans. We are going anywhere but here. Let’s just make up a fake identity, first. And get a job. I deserve a couple of days to think.” No way in hell are you going anywhere near that library where goddamn Oracle works.

It’ll be best to avoid everyone all together.

notes: title is a lyric from "Saturn" by SZA.

[hamable]

I’m about to write an essay on the specific situation Miles is in as we set up for a third movie.

With great power comes great responsibility.

Not a single spiderman asked to be bit. No one planned to be spiderman. But, given the power to do so, they chose to become spiderman. Miles is bitten by a spider from a different dimension that was never meant for him. In that moment, two dimensions were doomed. One to lose it’s intended spiderman, and one to never have one at all.

But Miles’s New York isnt in a state of anarchy like Universe-42, where his spider came from. It’s relatively normal. It’s what we expect of Spider-Man’s New York. It’s not doomed.

Spiderman doesn’t choose to get powers. In any universe. But every spiderman looks at what he has and the world around him and does what he can do.

Miles is just as much a Spiderman as every other Peter out there. It could be anyone under the mask, should they chose to wear it.

He may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time but so was every other bite victim. This is not his fault. And it may take another watch or two for me to confirm, but I don’t think Miguel ever directly says something to blame miles as an actor in all this. Yes, miles is the linchpin. To keep to the canon web, miles should not have been bitten. The fault falls on happenstance, though it’s all too easy to pin on miles. But I don’t think Miguel ever says that. Miles shouldn’t exist. Miles is not spiderman, in Miguel’s eyes. But goddamnit he’s not at fault here.

I’m hoping Miles can take control of his own narrative. His entire character revolves around balancing the expectations of those around him while he tries to discover his own. His family, his school, living up to what spiderman is supposed to be. Even The Hole confronts him and demands he acknowledge they are nemeses, and upon being turned down, seeks vengeance and validation which is the catalyst for the movies major conflict. Ppl keep telling miles who to be. And in a universe where a kid got bit when he shouldn’t have, I hope he finds the strength to rewrite more shouldn’ts. Spiderman can do both. The captain doesn’t have to die. His relationship with Gwen Stacy does not end in tragedy.

EDIT: FUCKIN. IF THE CANON RULES ARE SO IMPORTANT. WHY’D JEFF DIE IN A UNIVERSE WITH NO SPIDERMAN? UNCLE AARON DIDNT HAVE TO DIE IN THAT ONE SO WHY DID THE CAPTAIN??? ANSWER ME THAT M I G U E L?????

[meanbossart]

You might’ve answered this before, if so my apologizes, but did Astarion approach Drow to ask if he could bite him during act 1, or was it a spur of the moment thing during sex when drow just decided that he wanted to be bitten during act 2? (I remember something about Astarion shot him down during the tiefling party originally, so I assume it was during act 2 they started getting intimate?)

Oh Astarion tried to bite him almost immediately after they started having sex, which was at the end of Act 1 while they were somewhere in the underdark, or the forge (I remember that because I recall having a laugh about how they supposedly had to go all the way back up to the surface to bang, since the animation just showed a normal forest LOL)

It seems that by now, they have patched the game so that if Astarion tells you about his vampirism during normal dialogue you will no longer get the bite scene to trigger, but back then that wasn't the case. He first told me he was a vampire and then tried to bite me at a later long-rest. The way I choose to interpret that, is that DU drow would have taken it a lot more amicably than the game implies through cutscene since 1) he was already aware of Astarion's condition and 2) He had already made the decision to humor Astarion's advances, which kind of encompasses this whole situation.

I got to thinking about how that scene went and ended up writing a short thing for it 🤷enjoy!

-

You jolt from a light sleep like you’ve fallen down from an immeasurable height, feeling the thumping of your heart in the drums of your ears first thing before the distant, wailing choirs that resonate through the Underdark drown out the beating. You can’t immediately recall your dreams, going from complete silence and blackness back to this. You hear the scraping of rocks miles away with the same clarity with which you hear the wet slap of lips closing, Astarion looms over you like a hunched gargoyle, close enough that you can make out every dry pore and blue vessel scrawling away from his under eyes with the utmost clarity - he looks specially sickly, with the icy glow of the fauna around you reflecting off his pale complexion.

“What are you doing?” And as soon as you ask, he pulls away like a house-pet on the other end of reprimand.

He falters for a moment and no longer, there’s a glimmer of fear crossing his rounding eyes - before they relax back into sultry slits. The expression is not befitting of his posture, spine curves like a creature in the prowl. “Just looking for some comfort.” He reassures you. “I had a terribly scary dream.”

You saw the flash of his canines before his jaw clamped shut. He’s lying, and he knows that you know. “Were you about to bite me?”

You are curious more than you are chiding. Your heart rate has dropped, you feel it quieting down underneath your palms as they rest over your chest - still lying flat on your bedroll, looking up at the waxy elf with your neck crooked to one side. You see no reason to stand.

There’s a hesitance before he crawls a little closer, fingers brushing through the moss as his voice drops to an alluring whisper, the control he has over his voice is absent in the rest of his presentation. “Would you like that?”

A laughable assumption to make of most, but he had seen sides of you that have made him wonder. Even if he’s mistaken, it’s worth trying to convince you that it was your idea all along.

You had toyed with the thought, but you like toying with him more. “Why would I?”

Astarion scoffs over his shoulder, coming to cozy up by your hip with a practiced posture much more dignified than his awkward lurch - the cold leather of his trousers press into your naked side, his hand hovers over you and plants itself down by your ear - head hanging uncomfortably close. He can’t see into mirrors, he doesn’t know how bad he looks. “Because you can’t get enough of me.” half assertion, half plead. “This might be the closest we get to a little salacious fun, given our circumstances.”

“Is that all?”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m also hungry.” He playfully dabs a fingertip to your chin. “But I’m hungry for you, in particular.”

“Sick of taste of pig’s blood?”

“To death.” hisses, his smile tenses  into a snarl “I’ve seen you fight. You leak like you’re never going to run out.”

“If I let you, iIs that going to wipe that demented look off your face?”

He harps out a laugh, a little too loud - you hear one of your companions take in a sharp inhale before settling. Both your glances stray off to your sides before locking onto one another again, Astarion’s pupils swallowing the reds of his irises.. “Yes.”

“What a shame.”

A forced grin, more like a grimace. He’s almost too weak to keep up his own ruse. “Just say no and I’ll be off.” He’s telling you to stop wasting his time. You pull yourself up onto your elbows and he retracts away an appropriate amount, though hands remain nailed to the sides of you, imprisoning you between his arms.

He could jump your throat so easily from there, clamp down and refuse to let go until you’re splashing around red puddles like a dying fish in an oil spill. You fantasise about jamming your thumbs into his eyes and trying to pry him off by the sockets of the skull, feeling a fawn as it kicks and flails helplessly at the ribs of a cougar. How would you sound, whimpering with a crushed windpipe?

The thought arouses you, but it's different from that rising singe in your pelvis whenever burying a blade into the livers of screaming men - it’s a comforting warmth in your stomach that makes you loose, makes you malleable. He reads your silence as reluctance, not just the wanderings of a mad-man. He grows desperate.

“All I need is a little blood.”

You immediately feel him recoil.

“Please.”

A high contrast to your reveries, you realise that you don’t like him like this: begging. “Take it, then.”

He stiffens. Waiting for you to quality, recant, regret. But all you do is stare on unblinking while a chill travels up your back. His face tightens and a hand reaches up to bury itself in the limp locks of your hair, shoulders leaning forward before his face latches itself onto your neck with a crunch and a snap. You slam back down onto the floor as Astarion wraps around you like a snake.

-

[shortestcake]

SUCCUMB

Pairing: Pirate!Ellie Williams x Mermaid!reader

Pronouns used: none

Gendered terms: mermaid

Genre: (eventual) fluff+angst+smut

Summary: An infamous pirate seems to have finally bitten off more than she can chew.

// blood/wounds/alcohol mentioned, I don't know anything about ships, or sailing, or even pirates really, ellie is a bit dumb sometimes

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Silver scales glistened from underneath the water, or were they blue? Maybe pink, or green. She couldn't really tell, it was like they'd shift colors at every new angle of reflected light. But that didn't matter all too much. What did matter was that Ellie was about to grasp the biggest catch of her life.

"Fucking Christ— Hey!" Her voice bellowed throughout the ship, yet not loudly enough to garner the attention of her— probably asleep— crewmates. Of course, she could usually manage this on her own; though, in the moment, a helping hand would've been ideal, given the whiskey she enjoyed earlier.

But, not willing to let this gem slip away, she rushes to get the fishing net herself, nearly tumbling due to her drunken state. She practically sprints back once it's in her hold. And, with as much precision as she can muster, Ellie tosses the net. Reeling it back in when it's clear her target was tangled in well enough.

'This was it, this was what you finally got after years of dancing around death', you thought. You were just so curious, the group of young adults, laughing, drinking, dancing, effortlessly caught your eye. They were so muddled after all that liquor, that you assumed surely it'd be harmless to have a closer look. Especially once everyone went inside except for one woman. One mesmerizing woman.

She continues to lug the net upwards, slamming you against the ship's walls occasionally. 'This should last us weeks', she thought to herself, the weight of the fish taking her by surprise. It certainly wasn't the heaviest thing she's carried, but definitely not as light as fish usually are, and also definitely squirmier than fish typically are. Ellie could've sworn she felt a tugging of some sort.

Once over the edge, she choked on her own spit at the sight. Instead of a bug-eyed, all fin and scales— the pirate finds staring back at her a very human-looking pair of eyes. Naturally, her grip falters from the shock, and the net slips back to where she struggled so much to take it from.

Only your yelp snaps her back to reality, just in time to snatch the rope again. She caught it and dragged you back up without thinking, instinctively 'helping' you, now that her brain recognized you as a person and not just a meal.

The two of you just stared at each other, you wanted to curse at her, scream in her face and tackle her— your fucking arms and back hurt so much from how she knocked you into the ship. But you did nothing, after all, you weren't underwater, she clearly had the upper hand. And, as every second passed, you became more unsure of her motives. You initially thought she was one of those people who'd hunt inhuman creatures just for some extra coin. Sell elf teeth by gram, or mermaid scales by the piece. Instead, she looked more lost than you, eyeing you up and down, but not menacingly— it was shocked, curious even.

Finally, she pushed out of her frozen state, rubbing her eyes with her palms. "I'm way too fuckin' drunk for this." She slurred, it would've made you chuckle under other circumstances.

Ellie's mind was running a hundred miles a minute, did she really just accidentally catch a mermaid, how does that even happen?

Maybe this was your chance to slip away, retreat into the ocean, and play it safe. You swore to whatever divinity would listen, you'd never step out of line again if they spared you this once.

A firm grip on your arm stopped you from withdrawing any farther.

Jade eyes bore into yours, fixated on your features as her lips gaped. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, unable to formulate a proper sentence. "You— what—" Asking what you were would've been foolish, so she stopped herself; "What were you doing so close to a ship?".

"Just... curious." You answered carefully, still unable to decipher her character.

The thief hums, not very convinced. Mermaids were supposed to be dangerous to humans. What if you weren't alone? What if she and her friends were in danger? What if—

Before she could think of what to do, a familiar voice rang through the air. "Ellie? Are ya' still out here?" Joel. Suddenly all rational thinking was lost, and Ellie turned back into a teenager trying to avoid a scolding. She pulled you out of the net and hoisted you into her arms, practically throwing you over your shoulder and running to her room.

You instantly started thrashing around, panicked. "Put me down." You hissed, slamming your fists into her back.

"Shut up. Shut up. You'll get us caught!" Now, realistically, she knew she had no reason to be this worried. She was a grown woman, after all, her dad couldn't ground her.

Honestly, it probably would've been easier to let Joel find you, he knew what to do in these situations better anyway. But she was beyond tipsy, and all she could think was 'Potential killing machine on ship, my fault.' over and over.

That's why she locked the door behind her when she reached her cabin, and why she was now pacing.

Ellie finally slowed and glanced back at you. "Doesn't that hurt?" Her finger switched between pointing at your arm and then your tail.

Confused, you follow her index finger, to find two wounds, one worse than the other. It was like the adrenaline numbed you, and now, looking at the damage brought that pain rushing in. "Fuck— must've happened while you dragged me against your ship."

Ellie winced at your comment. She took a deep breath, trying to clear the fog of alcohol from her mind. "Look, I didn't mean to hurt you," she said, a bit more gently. "I just thought you were a really big fish." She admits, quietly and embarrassed. At that, you let yourself giggle. But your amusement didn't last long when your body decided to remind you of the excruciating pain you were in. You flinched and sucked in a sharp breath.

Now it was her turn to chuckle, just barely, though. "Can you go back out like that?" She asks, and it seems genuine— maybe she's sobered up a bit, you think. "I don't know." You answer honestly, fidgeting your fingers.

"I"m not— Hey, listen!" Poor Jesse, desperately defending himself from his own best friend and girlfriend. "I'm not saying we should just invite mermaids onboard. I'm just saying, hypothetically, if we somehow befriended a mermaid, it'd help us a lot."

"Yeah, or get us killed." Ellie scoffed.

"You know what I mean, dick." He rolled his eyes. "Like, with navigating and—" hiccup "shit."

"Okay, you're drunk." Dina put her hand on his shoulder. "But, I guess, hypothetically, you're right."

Jesse made an 'I told you so' motion with his hands while nodding at the other girl.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Ellie recollected the conversation with her crew mates, chewing on her lip in contemplation.

"Then, you can stay here." She blurted out. This made you look at her like she was the mermaid, and you the pirate.

After a moment of silently blinking up at her, you asked "Why?", a reasonable question, who wouldn't be suspicious under these circumstances.

"We could help each other. I let you stay here, give you food, bandages, and you help us navigate." The offer was tempting, aside from the fact that getting back home in your state would've been a pain, you've also always had a curiosity about humans.

"I just tell you where you to go? Is there some catch?" You ask, still slightly skeptical.

"Nope, these waters are dangerous, and you know them better than anyone else on this ship." She remarks, matter-of-factly.

"Makes sense." You mumble.

"So?"

"So, I'll help."

[lazycats-stuff]

Can you do a teen reader (younger than Damian by 1 or 2 years) x batfam, where he is spider man? (I mean kinda like miles morales, he has electricity powers but his webs are organic too and doesn’t need a web shooters.) he is Bruce’s biological child and his mother died, yk his canon event and what not. So he has to move to Gotham and isn’t happy about. Just distant and all. One night He sneaked out and bought a train ticket and went to New York, and was only spider man and just slept in somewhere. So the batfamily tracked him to New York, and while looking for him, they bump into him as spider man. They have to team up to find a villian but reafer gets hurt in the end and his mask fell off and they see it’s reader? They bring him and just have a talk when he wakes up and they come to conclusion for him to join the family in their fighting in Gotham?

Oh, that sounds good. Yes... Also, 2.7k words and so sorry for taking so long to write this... Hope you enjoy. I changed it a little bit, so my apologies, but I got into my writing spirit lol.

Summary: (Y/N) is Spiderman. The fam doesn't know that.

Warnings: (Y/N)'s mom passes away, funeral, sad (Y/N), he loves his city, angst, running away, fighting with Green Goblin.

(Y/N) had a great life in New York. He was very happy in his city. He lived with his mom and everything was fine. Okay, he did get bitten by a radioactive spider and got cool powers with it. Did it cause some troubles? Oh yeah. Electricity was a bit problematic to control, but he managed.

Did he get grounded because of it? His mom sure thought so. His dad visited with the rest of his brothers every month. (Y/N) understood why he couldn't come more. Being a CEO and all that stuff, (Y/N) really understood. He didn't love Bruce any less. Bruce was involved in his life, which was nice.

He loved his brothers and father, more than anything in this world. Alfred was the best though. Whenever he came, he would bring his food and (Y/N) and his mom would enjoy it too, often asking for recipes. Or they would exchange recipes.

All of those were very fun times. And his time as Spiderman. He really loved it. He loved patrolling and helping the people and maybe get a hot dog from the stands that worked through the night. He loved it all. It was nice that his webs were natural and they, like mentioned before, they also came with electricity.

His enemies hated him, but (Y/N) loved being Spiderman. He loved what he represented in New York and he wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He is a New Yorker through and through.

But life decided to be a bitch and strike that luck and happiness.

(Y/N)'s mom passed away. She was hit by a drunk driver. The worst thing is, the driver survived. When Bruce got the news, he got into the car and drove to New York. (Y/N) was told just before Bruce came and (Y/N) felt his soul shatter.

He broke down in Bruce's arms, crying and screaming. It took him a while to calm down, but he couldn't stay alone. Bruce knew that and he knew that going back to Gotham was not an option now. At all. Bruce called Alfred and explained everything and told him that he would stay to arrange the funeral.

Alfred understood and the brother called (Y/N), wishing that they could be there. (Y/N) thanked them for it and then sat up all night, unable to sleep. Bruce tried to comfort him in the best way possible, but it was difficult. Bruce's former fling, (Y/N)'s mom, was the most important person to (Y/N). Without a doubt.

Bruce knew that he would have to bury her in New York, otherwise his son would have raised hell. Without a doubt. After funeral, (Y/N) would have to move to Gotham. Which is another problem on its own. Bruce didn't know that (Y/N) was Spiderman and (Y/N) didn't know that Bruce was Batman.

Match made in hell, so to say.

The funeral was held a few days after the incident and (Y/N) thought that New York cried with him. The sky was dark and the rain was falling. (Y/N) was torn. There were way to many people who were saying sorry and while he appreciated the care and worry, he just wanted to say goodbye on his own.

His brothers have stood it with him. (Y/N) didn't even have the courage to be next to the grave, while they lowered it, but Bruce held him hand through it, keeping him close to him during the entire process.

At the end, he found some strength and came closer, allowing the rain to soak him. It felt appropriate. When she was lowered, (Y/N) threw a rose in there and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath as they started putting dirt over her coffin and (Y/N) never felt so mad. Why did this happen to him? To him out of all people?!

Bruce recognized that look in (Y/N)'s eyes. He knew that rage, sadness and frustration in his eyes. It was going to be difficult to let go and have a new life in Gotham. But (Y/N) had to try. He had to put some effort.

" (Y/N), we have to go. " Bruce said gently as he shielded his son from the rain with an umbrella. (Y/N) kept looking as the coffin got buried under the dirt. He swallowed before nodding and following Bruce to the car.

" Why do I have to go to Gotham? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce sighed as he started driving.

" We have been over this. I have a company there and your brothers are there. I know you don't want to leave, I know that, but you have no choice. " Bruce explained as he drove and (Y/N) turned away from him, biting down on his tongue so that he wouldn't lash out against Bruce.

" I know you are not happy, but you will be happy in Gotham. "

" Sure. In a city ran by a clown and a bat. Sounds like heaven. " (Y/N) said sarcastically.

" It's actually a nice city once you live in it long enough. "

(Y/N) huffed, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to lash out at his father, he really didn't. His dad was doing something he needed and Bruce wasn't at fault.

It was the driver's fault.

But he was pissed and he just wanted to be alone. Bruce saw it and didn't say anything, driving back to Gotham. It was the most awkward drive Bruce has ever done in his life. The hour was quiet and once they parked in the yard of the manor, (Y/N) took a bag with his personal stuff, his Spiderman suit included, and made a beeline for his room.

He ran past everybody and they all looked at him with sad looks.

" Do you think he will be better soon? " Dick asked, glancing at Bruce.

" I don't know Dick. He is sensitive and he will need some time to process it. I don't think I can even introduce him to our line of work. He found justice, they got the driver. " Bruce said as he rubbed his chin and the boys had to agree to a certain agree.

" He just needs some time. The first few days are the toughest. He will get better as times passes. " Alfred said as he took one of the boxes out.

Those few days have passed and (Y/N) didn't really feel good. He didn't like the fact he is starting a new school year here, without his friends and a sense of familiarity. He would have to start a new, without... He cried a lot during the time and he just wore black. Alfred had to make sure he ate and Bruce was there to comfort him and make sure he is okay.

Another thing that was painful, alongside his mother's death was the fact that he couldn't be Spiderman. He couldn't go out, he couldn't save his fellow New Yorkers or chat with them. He saw the news talking about his absence and he wanted nothing more than to go back to New York.

Nothing more.

But... There is a problem called big brothers plus a dad.

They were always around, watching him. Always popping in his room to make sure he is okay and not hungry, knowing that eating wasn't easy. Everyone popped in to make sure he is okay. (Y/N) was sure they thought he would hurt himself somehow, but he wasn't doing that.

He would often sit down in his room, when he knew that his family was on patrol, he would take his suit out. He would watch the spider symbol, wishing he could be back in New York. Gotham was nothing compared to New York. New York was much better, still is better than this city. New York is alive, vibrant, full of colors.

And then you have Gotham.

But (Y/N) has had enough after 2 weeks. With a little bit sneaking around, he managed to buy a ticket, his suit underneath the normal clothes he was wearing. While his family was on patrol, he sneaked out and made his way to the station to leave. He was happy, but it was bitter sweet. It would remind him of the things he loved and yet... It would remind him of his mother.

He had actually had some money left for a few flowers to lay on her grave... (Y/N) put his head on the window, watching the scenery change. Left his phone at home so that they couldn't track him, so he spent his time looking out the window and stretching.

After a few hours, (Y/N) has arrived. He smiled as he saw his city. He took a deep breath in and walked around, just remembering the time in his city.

" My apologies New York. " (Y/N) mumbled as he started walking to the cemetery. It would be a long walk, but he had time. He really did. Once he came, the flower shop was open and he has paid with cash, making it difficult to track him. After getting a beautiful bouquet he walked to his mom's grave. He put them down and smiled...

Bittersweet beyond belief.

He kept knelt down on one knee, smiling at the gravestone. He smiled and wiped some of his tears away, not wanting to cry.

" Hey mom. I'm back. Dad wanted me to move, but I think I will stay here. " (Y/N) said as he got up and started walking to his apartment. He missed it, he really did. He could only hope that it's unlocked, but his neighbor had an extra key. He knew it.

And she loved him.

While (Y/N) was happy, the family wasn't really paying attention whether or not (Y/N) was in his room. They were thinking that he has slept. They couldn't have been more wrong about it. (Y/N) already had a whole night ahead of him as an advantage.

Alfred went to check and a few minutes later and he called out for Bruce in a panic. Everyone dropped the cutlery and ran upstairs to see if their butler was safe. Jason and Tim nearly tumbled over one another more than once. Damian jumped in first, ready to fight with the non existent intruder.

They were all shocked to see that there was no intruder. Another problem? There was no (Y/N). Jason checked the bathroom.

" Not in here. " He declared, closing the door.

Bruce wondered what the hell happened. Oh no. Where is he?

" Did anyone see him? " Bruce asked his sons, leaning on the wall.

" No... I thought he was in here. " Tim said as he looked out the window. " Where is he even? " Tim wondered. Bruce pondered for a moment.

" Lets go to the cave and check the cameras. " Bruce said as he pushed himself off of the wall. Everyone followed and soon, they were looking through the cameras.

They all paled when they saw that he went to the city. Bruce pulled all of the cameras he could and thanked God for facial recognition. He pulled it all to find (Y/N).

" Why did he escape? " Dick wondered out aloud. Was it the fact that they were checking on him too much? Was he smothered? Did they smother him?

" Shit. " Jason said next to Bruce as the two watched the screen. Everyone turned their heads to look at the screen. A train station. Bruce connected it.

" He went to New York. " Bruce said as he tracked (Y/N)'s phone.

" What the hell? " Tim wondered out loud.

Everyone frowned when the location turned out to be the manor. Everyone was now worried.

" He has to be in New York. He has to be. " Damian declared and everyone had to agree with it. They knew that (Y/N) coming here wasn't his choice and that he wanted to stay back in New York. Bruce couldn't blame (Y/N) for any of it, nobody could blame (Y/N) for trying to run to New York.

" He has an entire night as an advantage. " Damian said and everyone has agreed with him. That is one hell of an advantage.

" I'm not sure whether or not to be proud. " Bruce said, trying not to smile.

" A mixture of both. He passed the security. " Jason mumbled and Bruce chuckled.

" Yeah, I have to be a mixture of both. Lets do some more investigating and then lets go to New York at night. " Bruce said and everyone nodded.

(Y/N) has had fun during the day, but it seems that Green Goblin wasn't happy with the fact that he was gone out of their city. The fight has been going on for a while and (Y/N) was slowly getting exhausted. Ever so slowly.

(Y/N) knew that he couldn't lose his cool now. That's something that Green Goblin wanted him to do this entire fight. Green Goblin was taunting him and by God, (Y/N) was ready to kill. His wrists were hurting like never before.

He was ready to strike once more when he saw a familiar face. His dad and his brothers. Oh God. Were they all looking for him. They landed near him and (Y/N) swore that his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He really thought so.

" Hey Spidey, you need help? " Dick, well, Nightwing asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders. " Could use some backup. " (Y/N) said, voice breathy.

" Arch nemesis? " Damian, well, Robin asked.

" Yup. "

" Sounds tough. " Dick said and (Y/N) got ready to strike once more. He saw an opening and took it.

(Y/N) was struck and he flew back onto the rooftop and something fell of as he landed. He couldn't pinpoint it, but every part of him screamed that something was wrong. He froze when he saw his father, covering them both with his big cape.

" (Y/N), why didn't you tell us? Is this why you didn't want to leave? " Bruce asked, glancing at his son, trying to see if he was injured.

" I... I didn't know how to... " (Y/N) admitted shyly, looking away from his dad.

" I'm not blaming you. But we have to talk about this later. We can't just leave it like this. Put on your mask and lets finish this. " Bruce said with a firm voice and (Y/N) nodded as he did so and with the help from Bruce, got up.

" Lets get the bastard. " (Y/N) said with so much determination and Bruce smiled proudly. He really is his son with that much determination.

The fight was tiring beyond belief, but the Batfamily was determined and persistent. And Green Goblin wasn't expecting the back up that (Y/N) has gotten out of nowhere. Soon, Green Goblin was taken into custody. Now it was all good. All good.

If you remember that (Y/N)'s family was still there, waiting to talk to him. He didn't really want to talk, he just wanted to avoid it. He didn't want to. By God, he wanted to go to sleep. But he knew that talk would happen eventually.

" Now, " Bruce started as he glanced at everyone. " I'm not mad you, but... You could have told us. We told you. " (Y/N) tried to say something, but Bruce stopped him. " Now, what happened happened. However, you can use your talents back in Gotham. "

(Y/N) shifted on his feet, nervous about it.

" No need to worry (Y/N). " Jason started, hands on his hips. " NYPD is more capable than GCPD. "

Everyone laughed at it. To some extent it's true, but (Y/N) wasn't convinced.

" You don't have to lose your Spider symbol. You can keep being Spiderman. You can be a spider and the rest can be birds. " Bruce said as he put his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.

" It's difficult to leave my city behind. " (Y/N) admitted and Bruce nodded in sympathy. The brothers hugged their brother, hugging him tightly.

They all were saying something, but (Y/N) couldn't understand. But he knew that they were all saying something positive.

" Now, lets go home and get you situated. " Bruce said and (Y/N) just looked at the sun.

" It weird to see you guys in this time of the day. " (Y/N) mumbled as he was led to the Batmobile. Everyone laughed at that. It was true. He really didn't want to leave New York city, but he knew that he could help them in Gotham.

He knew it would work out in the end.

[prismuffin]

May i ask for a one shot pls.

Can it be where the reader and miles is dating, but she's been acting weird and mile finds out there is a new spider man, and its really the reader.

A/n: wow It’s been a minute since I’ve written a full fic no? Pris is almost back babyyy~

Coincidence

Miles Morales x fem!spiderman!reader

( summary: being the new Spider-Man is hard, but hiding it from your boyfriend is harder )

!-!more under the cut!-!

You groaned as you walked through the hallway, stretching and rolling your shoulders to loosen the aching pain that spread across your entire body. You were sore, though after a night full of training how to swing around the city and stop crime you weren't the least bit surprised that it was so.

“Ayo Miles!”

The sound of your boyfriends name pulled you away from your mind as you turned towards the direction of the shout. There he was, Miles Morales, your boyfriend who you’ve been promptly ignoring for the past week and a half. You feel like shit for it but not too long ago you got bitten by a radioactive spider and became somewhat of a new Spider-Man, a Spider-Woman if you will. You’re still getting used to the new gig and the powers that come along with it and in your conflicted state you’ve been ignoring not only Miles but the rest of your friends as well.

You turned back around, not missing how his eyes barely caught yours right before you did and started walking towards your final class of the day.

Just one more class and then you could go....fight crime- after homework of course! Once again, you've been so swamped with this new Spider-Woman gig recently it's really had a terrible impact on your life. Your stress shot up after you scrambled to get your work completed so that you could train to help save the city that never sleeps. You never took that nickname more seriously in your life. It also sucks that your social life has dropped immensely. No more after school hangouts with friends let alone your boyfriend who you feel so bad for blowing off. Sometimes you think life would be better if you just cut everyone around you off but you don't want to lose them it just seems like the easy way out.

—TS—

You bolted out of your seat as the bell rang, dashing through the schools halls before the mass of students could begin to overwhelm them. You needed to get to Mays, do some calculus work, then suit up-

“Y/n!”

You shoes screeched against the floors as you stopped yourself from crashing into Miles, who stood in front of the main entrance, arms out ready to catch you if you tripped. You stopped in his arms and he firmly held you from falling forwards. You breathed heavily as you pulled back from him. "Why are you-" looking up, you winced as your senses skyrocketed, your "Spidey-senses" were activating as you looked at Miles, a sense of familiarity filled your mind.

"You're just like...-" Miles started, his eyes searching yours for any type of answer but you quickly remembered where you were supposed to be. "Miles! I-I gotta go-" You moved around him and dashed out the door, ignoring his calls for you to come back. With your backpack in hand you ran into the subway station, ready to head to May's house. She had found you initially after you'd been bitten, recognized the symptoms and took you in under her wing. She got you web-shooters and a suit and allowed you to train in the confines of the Spider-Lair.

Today was meant to be your debut! You were gonna go out, save a few civilians, meet the Spider-Man that had appeared after the original had died and make your name as Spider-Woman. But that's after you help May with her banana bread recipe.

Knocking on her door you smiled at the sight of the older woman as she opened it. She greeted you, beckoning you inside after introductions were done. The rest of your afternoon was spent finishing that calculus work and making banana bread.

After finishing both tasks were completed, you were ready to make your debut, but the doorbell had delayed that. You looked at May in confusion as she smirked and stood. "There's a slight change in plans," "what?" You wondered aloud as your eyes followed her across the room. "I wanted you to meet Spider-man first, get yourselves acquainted before I sent you out on patrols for the first time." She said as she closed in on the front door, grabbing the knob, she cleared her throat a bit before opening it. You could hear her greet someone, you could see the side of his suit so you knew it was the Spider-man. You turned away to calm yourself as the reality truly sunk in that you were about to meet spiderman, hero of New York!

May cleared her throat, "Y/n this is Miles, or Spiderman and Miles this is-" "Miles?" "Y/n?" You turned around quickly, noticing Spiderman's shocked expression as he stared at you. May's eyes flickered in between you both, her expression becoming increasingly more confused. "I knew it! I knew I felt something earlier- What is- You're a Spider-man too?!" Miles yelled, pulling his mask off near the end of his sentence. "Spider-Woman actually-" May corrected him and your heart sped up as you stared at the previously masked mans face. "I- I didn't- Miles? You're Spider-man!! And you never told me?!" You yelled in shock and he crossed his arms. "Technically I can be mad at you for the same thing." You shook your head, laughing in disbelief before a silence overtook you two.

"So, I'm guessing you both know each other than."

"She's my girlfriend-" May gasped, standing there for a moment before clapping her hands together. "This is great news! See, you both already know and care for each other so you're sure to have each others backs on the streets." You blinked and sighed at the enthusiasm of the older woman. "Let's go to the lair shall we?" She walked off, leaving you and Miles to follow her but you stopped him before he could.

"Can we just- talk for a second?" You asked and he sighed and nodded, leaning against the circular table in the kitchen. "Look I- I never meant to ignore you- well I did! But only until I figured all this stuff out. I was bit by some kind of spider, May found me and took me in, I've been training with her for a while and it's been really stressful." Miles eyebrows creased at the sight of your saddening expression. "Yeah I get what you mean, it took me a while to find a good balance." He scratched the side of his head, looking away from you for a moment. "We're still good right?" He asked and you immediately nodded, a small smile growing on your face. "Yeah we're still good Miles." You stepped closer to him and he followed your lead, grabbing you and bringing you into a solid hug before kissing the side of your cheek. You laughed as you pulled back, still holding each other comfortably. "I can't believe my boyfriend is Spider-man!" "I can't believe my girlfriend is Spider-woman!" He laughed along with you, the previous tension being forgotten as the humor swept it away.

"We probably shouldn't keep May waiting," you said, still giggling from the previous conversation. "Yeahhh good idea, lets go." You both started making your way to the backyard, and for the first time in almost two weeks, you held your boyfriends hand.

———

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Masterlist

[written-in-flowers]

Losing Humanity: OT8 x Male!Reader Pt. 1

Pairing: Vampire!Hyunjin x Male!Reader (end game) | Side pairings: OT8 x Male!reader, Vampire!Felix x Lycan!Chan, Vampire!Minho x Lycan!Han

Genre: Angst, smut, horror | Au: Resident Evil: Village, vampires, werewolves/lycans, hybrids.

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Following a dreadful experiment, YN has to wrestle with his new body and abilities. With the help of the four lords and their sons, he might be able to find the family and purpose he'd been looking for.

Overall Tags: strangers to lovers, exes to lovers, secret romances, feuding families, omegaverse, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, graphic depictions of violence, blood and violence, mad science experiments, eventual smut, male reader fic, graphic depictions of human to monster transformations, horror, suspense. anal sex, anal fingering, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, threesome -/m/m/m, group sex, rimming, blowjobs, rough blowjobs, water sex, outdoor sex, harem but one end game, happy ending, tentacle sex, hallucinations, psychological horror

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of Stray Kids in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

A/N: this is a revamped version of an ATEEZ fic I'd written a while ago, but only better haha I hope you still enjoy it even as Stray Kids.

Next |

***

“Here’s where I stop,” the coachman told you in a gruff voice. “The horses won’t go any further.”

You stared out from the back of the wagon to the road ahead. Stretching about a mile, the harsh cold path made for an intimidating walk. Black rocks covered lightly with snow lined the long wheel tracks carts and horses made right up to this point. Beyond, it appeared as if very few trekked the rest of the way. The idea of walking through the freezing cold with nothing but your jacket, pants and boots seemed daunting. Your father told you the journey to the castle wouldn’t be easy, but it’d be worth it in the end. 

“Why not?” You asked, hoping the coachman might change his mind. 

“The place frightens them,” he said. “They won’t go any farther than this before they start getting riled up. That place is cursed, I tell you.” He faced forward as if looking at the castle himself, “You have to be mad or desperate to go up there.”

“So, I’m to walk the rest of the way?” Walking alone up a tall mountain in the dark was not ideal during these times. “Is that safe?”  

“The castle isn’t that far from here,” he said. “It’s only about half a mile until you reach the gates, then a bit more after that.”

You’d dreaded the answer, but still wasn't surprised. A lot of villagers showed hesitancy when they spoke of Castle Dimitrescu. The mistress of the castle ruled over their side of the village with an iron fist. Your mother used to say it was by the grace and protection of Mother Miranda that she didn’t slaughter the whole village. But, that did not stop anyone from noticing the disappearances or missing livestock. 

Your neighbor woke up his entire household shouting about the maimed carcass of his prized cow, Anita. He told your father that he found her torn to bits in her stall, large chunks of flesh bitten off right to the bone. You suggested that a wolf might’ve gotten into his barn, but you said that to try diverting from what really troubled everyone: the beasts ate her. You shivered thinking of the hairy, snarling, bloody monsters who occasionally roam the forests, ravaging anything they can get their hands on. You pictured them feasting on the corpse of young, pretty Camila, who’d gone missing several days ago or strong farmer Elijah who’d last been seen working in his field. Only one person showed no fear upon entering the woods: The Huntsman. 

The Huntsman became the village protector when they slaughtered a pack of monsters who'd broken through the gates. You never saw them up close, since they rarely traveled into the village and often wore a wide-brimmed hat that covered their face, but their long black coat and gloves made them recognizable. Their weapons proficiency and skill was unmatched. People swore they must be a beast in a much tamer form, with how quickly they dodged and wrestled the monsters to the ground. 

You wished they'd come with you. 

“Well, thank you for getting me this far,” you said to the coachman as you hopped off the wagon. “I wouldn’t have made it before dark if you had not come.”

“Mother Miranda says we must show each other kindness and generosity when we can,” he said, tipping his hat, “I pray that you reach the castle safely.” 

“Thank you.” 

You shouldered your bag, and then began the trek up the mountain path. A curving, narrow road thickened by snow stretched ahead into the dark. You hoped the walk was not long, since the hour grew later and the sun began setting over the dense forests beyond. The higher you’d gone up the mountain, the colder the winds became. The chill blew through your jacket every time you moved, but you managed. You were no stranger to the cold since you spent many nights huddled by the dwindling fireplace at home. You did your best not to look between the trees lining the path or walk too briskly. One needed to keep their wits about them while walking through the woods. If you stared into the trees, there may be something staring right back. Speedy walking might invite said figure to chase you, and you’d come too far to be a meal now. 

You continued along the way until you reached a tall iron gate. A symbol topped the gate: a large flower over two crossed swords. The insignia for House Dimitrescu. You searched around for a guard or caretaker, but nobody came. Timidly, you pushed on the gate and to your surprise it opened. As you stood there at the opening, a deep dread settled itself into his stomach. The feeling told you to turn back, and find another way to help feed your family. Yet, determination and pride put one foot in front of the other. You had no choice. Your father’s crops did not yield their usual abundance and your mother’s illness grew stronger. They had suggested you take a position in the castle’s employ. Families of those who worked in the castle received gold and even food parcels from their loved ones. Perhaps The Lady pays in goods and a bit of gold for service. You hoped working in the castle would feed the family. You pressed onwards. 

The stone castle stood at the end of the road. The gray building looked dark and foreboding. High towers and battlements reached up into the sky, blocking out the bit of sunlight still left to the world, with tall windows surveying the yard below. Seeing the withering or bare foliage around the front entrance, it was no wonder the coachman’s horses steered clear of the place. Even standing at the front steps, every nerve in your body told you to run. The lack of guards or servants unnerved you as well. Didn’t castles have people bustling about? Noise and chatter in the air, bringing life to the silent building? You’d always thought so. Regardless, turning back was no longer an option. You climbed the steep steps to the doors, and pulled it open. 

Cautiously, you walked into the small entrance hall. A long carpet went up a short flight of stairs, leading into a room with a domed ceiling. Nervousness sets in deeper when you realize how little light filled the room. Two tall candelabras stood in inverted walls and another sat on a side table. The priceless antiques and refined appearance truly befitted the aristocratic family. However, it wasn’t these that caught your attention. 

Hanging between the candelabras was a tall painting of four young men in an intricate gold frame. A blond, two black haired, and one with brown hair. They each dressed in upper class fashion with vests, high collared shirts with silk cravats. They clearly came from wealth judging by how they carried themselves even in a painting. You read a plaque right at the bottom. 

‘Felix, Hyunjin, Minho and Jimin Dimitrescu’. 

The Lady’s sons. Yes, you’d heard of them though had never seen them before. People said they could be as deadly as their mother, and you did not doubt that. You gazed around for a moment, expecting to find a servant or a butler welcoming their newest worker. Not a single soul. You found yourself completely alone. 

“Hello?” You dared to speak into the empty, dim room. “Is anyone here?”

A faint buzzing sound suddenly came from a hallway on your left and you gasped. The large swarm of flies move fluidly from behind the oak wood doors and into the entrance hall. Panic jumped into your throat and you moved to run before the flies blocked your path. 

Suddenly, three men materialized. You realized at once who they were. Before you stood three of Lady Dimitrescu’s sons, the blond, black haired and brunet. They each wore long black coats with hoods over their heads. The one with brown hair came up close first. While his brothers kept their hair to their shoulders, he had his hair trimmed short. He carried a regal sophistication befitting his station. He had his chin up and back straight, with a certain kind of sternness in his eyes. It struck fear into you far too easily. 

You shifted your eyes away as the man examined your features. “Oh yes,” he said, turning your face this way and that, "I think he will do nicely. Felix?” 

He scanned over him one more time before the blond came up next. Felix, as the other called him, carried a glint in his eye that sent shivers through your bones. His golden hair created a stark contrast between his face and the hood over his head. He had a spread of freckles along his cheeks and nose, and his eyes did not devour you as the others did. A gloved hand caressed your jawline as he examined your face like a jeweler studying a new gem. What were they looking at? The unknowing frightened you more. When you tried looking away from him, Felix forced you by the chin. Something about the three of them churned your stomach, and every razzled nerve screamed to flee.

“I agree, Minho” he finally said, “He is perfect. He has strong bones and his blood seems to pump at a normal rate. He is young enough to withstand the strain. How old are you? Nineteen? Twenty?” 

"Twenty-three," you squeaked. 

"Hm, good, good."

“He’s pretty,” the black haired man behind them said. “Much prettier than anyone we’ve gotten so far.” 

“Looks are not important in the experiment, Hyunjin,” Felix rolled his eyes. 

“No, but they certainly are a benefit.” 

You flinched when he reached for you. His hair the shade of night stayed tied from his face, giving way to his angular features. That and his sharp eyes reminded you of a black cat hiding in the bushes. He was beautiful, but terrifying. He was a siren that lured men to their deaths; a venus flower that traps its victims between its jaws. The image of him lying in wait for you in the forest crossed your mind, and you gulped. You couldn’t stop staring into his dark eyes, wanting to be near him while also wishing to run away. Were it not for the tinge of red on the inner parts of his lips, he’d appeal to you more.  

“Are you sure we can't take him upstairs?” he asked Felix, smirking at you. "We can tie him down and play with him," he came closer, a strange metallic smell on his breath, "I bet that mouth can make the sweetest sounds…"

“Wha-Wha-” You could hardly get the words out. 

“I won’t hurt you, pretty,” Hyunjin said, drawing closer and closer. Gloved fingers traced down  your chest, and you stepped away. “I’ve been told I can be a very gentle lover,” he said before Felix stood between them. 

“You have your own playthings in the cellars,” he hissed. “Go fiddle with them and leave my subject alone.” 

“Ugh, you never let me have any fun!” 

Their words sickened and frightened you. You tried concealing the ice being pumped into your veins from your heart. Felix reached to touch your cheek, but frowned when you pulled away. 

“What do you want with me?” You heard yourself squeak out. 

“Nothing much,” answered Felix. “Just your body."

“My body?!"

"Don't worry," he sneered, "You won't miss it."

You realized then what happened to the servants before you. Quickly, you recalled how eagerly your father insisted you find work in the castle. He’d spent days telling you how beneficial it’d be for the family, and how desperately they needed the money. When a family in town received packages after sending their daughter to the castle, he noted how it could be them eating fresh bread and butter. Your mother could get the medicine she needed. They’d get coal for the fire and oil for the lamps. Did he know the truth and simply hid it from you, his only son? It would’ve saddened you if panic did not overcome you so easily. To him, he’s helping the family. He’s helping by making you one less mouth to feed. Your shaky hands gripped your bag to keep themselves steady. 

“It won’t hurt,” Felix assured you. “Well, not too badly.”

“Mother isn’t home yet,” Minho told him. “She’ll be away for a while, so there’s plenty of time.” 

"You only need to relax," hissed Hyunjin, finger tracing your collarbone. "I know a few things that can help with that."

“No,” you said in a shaky breath. “No, please…I have a family…they’ll come looking for me…”

Felix laughed, “Silly boy. Your family sent you up here for this very reason.” He then said, “So, do what you’re told, and come with us.”

He didn’t grab your hand quickly enough. You rushed for the large front doors, slamming into them from the force of the sprint before realizing they’d been locked. Over your shoulder, you saw the three men staring at you wickedly. The sound of faint buzzing jolted you alive. 

“Brother!” one of the men called, “Where are you going? You only just arrived!”

You didn’t waste time asking for an explanation. Seeing a room off to the side, you made a break for it. Running down a corridor and another flight of stairs, your only light was the moonlight shining through the windows. How could anyone see in such darkness? The curtain windows kept you from gaining a sense of direction. The buzzing grew louder behind you, and you went down the next corridor you found. Bursting through an archway, you ended up in a large room with checkered flooring and a high ceiling. Four strange statues stood guard in front of a doorway, and you knew this way would be pointless. You needed to find a way out. You rushed through to another corner area, before reaching a hallway. You didn’t hear the insects anymore, but that elevated your anxiety. You shouldn’t have come here. You should’ve gone back home, told your father the Lady didn’t need any more servants, and stayed there. Now, you were running for your life. 

You kept running until you ended up in a bed chamber. The fireplace being the only source of light, it flickered across the walls and gave everything a warm glow. You stared around for a hiding spot, but not quickly enough. Suddenly, hundreds of flies surrounded you and you did your best to shield your face. Their sharp teeth sunk into your arms, legs and torso; their buzzing deafened you to the rest of the world. You grimaced, and swatted at the ones trying to nibble your face, nearly stumbling backwards over a footstool in the process. 

“Ah, there you are, lovely,” he heard Hyunjin chuckle darkly. The flies suddenly flew from him and swirled around until they created his full form. He stared down at you, a distinct seduction in his eyes. “Looks like you found my favorite room in the castle. How about I lock the door and we get to know each other better?” 

You didn’t respond. You clambered to your feet, then made a dash past Hyunjin, breaking through a wall of insects in the process. Hurrying back down the way you’d come, hearing Hyunjin’s laughter somewhere behind, you returned to the room with the statues. Running through the main hall, a high-ceiling with a large crystal chandelier above the checkered floors, you nearly bumped into one of the chairs in front of the fire. You hardly felt it as you kept moving. You desperately searched for a place to hide, but you found so few places. Moving through large ornate doors, you entered a dark dining room. 

A dining room with a long table, bright moonlight became the only source of light guiding you through. You hoped the darkness might shield you from your pursuer until you reached outside. You bumped into one of the tall-backed chairs on your way to the other door, but the pain didn’t distract you. What did they want with you anyways? Kill you? Feed off of you? You didn’t want to think about it. How could your father do this to you? You saw a pair of doors, and seeing the courtyard outside, realized that might be a way out. 

“Oh, Brother,” Hyunjin’s voice came through the room in a sing-song voice. “Where are you?”

You scrambled and ducked behind one of the dining chairs. Buzzing preceded Hyunjin’s entry, and you spotted his reflection in a glass cabinet door. You covered your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Hyunjin’s top half remained human, but his bottom half broke off into the black flies so he glided about the room. 

“We promise we won’t hurt you,” he said innocently. “Not much, at least.” You heard him give a short sniff, "I know you're in here. I can smell your sweet, thick, hot blood. I can almost taste it on my tongue, and it’s delicious. I bet other parts of you taste just as good.” 

You waited until Hyunjin turned his back to quickly go through the doors into the courtyard. 

An iron gazebo stood in the center of the courtyard, which broke off into different sections of the castle. You continued glancing around for signs of the three brothers, since Hyunjin had been on his trail minutes ago. You were certain they meant to toy with you before killing you. They can move faster; they’re likely stronger, yet have not caught you yet. You hoped to be gone before they discovered you again. On the right side, a cobbled pathway lead through an archway out into a garden area. 

Hedges lined the walkways around the expansive space, circling around a bronze fountain statue in the middle. The garden must be beautiful in the spring, but in the winter, it was a frozen eden. Dead trees and withering bushes decorated the space, and ice and snow covered the fountains and benches. Your boots crushed the thin layer of snow on the ground as you ran through to a high wall on the other side. 

“Brother!” It was Minho this time, whose voice came from somewhere in the distance. “Brother, where are you?”

You grabbed onto a thick vine clinging to the stone fence, placed your foot on one at the bottom, then lifted yourself onto the wall. You ignored the voices calling from inside the castle, and started climbing. It did not take much time to scale the ten foot wall, even if the icy stones and frozen vines burned your hands. Desperation and panic numbed you to the sensations around you. You’d been a fool to come here.  You should’ve listened to your gut when you stepped up to the house, but you’d thought of your family. Your father made it sound so important that you go to the castle; he said it’d help the family in such a special way. It hurt thinking your father intended to serve you on a platter to these people. You wanted to think he didn’t know and really thought his son was manning stables or serving meals from a kitchen. With all the talk of aiding their family, you believed you’d be doing more for them than toiling in dying corn crops. 

To them, the best thing you could do is die. 

You reached the top of the wall, and swung your leg over the side. Freedom hit you right before something swiped at your feet from below. A large black beast growled from several feet below, yellow eyes glowing at you angrily. It resembled a wolf, but it stood on hind legs with the body of a man covered in fur. A scream escaped you and you fell into the garden again. Your back hitting the ground hard shocks of pain went through your body. You heard more growling and barking from behind the wall; long claws scratched the hard stone, and feet kicking the snowy earth. The fall disoriented you long enough that you didn’t notice the figure gliding up to him. 

“Ah, there you are!” Minho looked down, his hood bringing a shadow over his face. “We’ve been looking for you.” 

In this brief moment of weakness, the overwhelming sounds of fluttering wings filled your ears. You swiped at those buzzing around you, pinching your eardrums with their high-pitched sounds, before Minho and Hyunjin grabbed your wrists. A scream ripped through your throat as the two men dragged you behind them. Felix joined them at your feet as you struggled and wildly fought for escape. Fear injected itself into you fully, creating a list of scenarios that were worse than anything you imagined previously. Felix soon flew right over you, his body a dark cloud of flies, and he deeply inhaled your scent. 

“Virgin blood,” he smiled drunkenly. “So sweet. So pure.” He took another hint, then said, “Too bad I won’t get a drop of it…” 

You saw the hallways and stairwells of the castle fly by until they went into complete darkness. The backs of your ankles and legs scraped against hard, rough surfaces, and you cried out whenever they knocked onto the floor too hard. Deprived of your main senses, you could do nothing but let them take you further into the castle dungeons.

"Put him on the table," Felix instructed his siblings. "I'll prepare everything else."

Hyunjin and Minho brought you onto a wooden slab in a dimly lit room. When you glanced around, you realized they’d brought you into a room beneath the castle. Soft candlelight hung above to bring light against the black stone walls, illuminating the workbenches and tables of books, chemicals, petri dishes and various works in progress. A laboratory. They did not plan to kill you. They planned to torture you. 

“What is going on?” You asked, panting and crying as Hyunjin and Minho strapped you to a wooden table. You let out a choked sob, and you squeezed the blinding tears. You panicked when you saw them strapping down your ankles next."Wait, no! Please! What are you doing? Stop! Pl-please!"

Felix picked up a jar containing a strange mass inside of it; you heard him muttering under his breath, and your fear worsened. You struggled against the straps holding you down, hoping they might give way if you tried hard enough, but to no avail. Minho meanwhile reached for a clear bottle while Hyunjin unsheathed a small knife from under his cloak. 

"What is happening?" You sobbed though none of them answered. "Why are you doing this to me?" You cried, "Please, I want to go home. I won't tell anyone anything. Please-"

"-Roll up your sleeve, Hyunjin," Minho told his brother, coming to him with two needles and vials in hand. 

Hyunjin did as requested. He shook back his sleeve to reveal his wrist, which he presented to one of Minho’s needles. You saw him sink one needle into Hyunjin’s veins, dark red blood filling the vial halfway. Both men waited for enough blood to fill the vial before Minho pulled away from him. This was not before you saw the cut seal itself closed. 

"What are you going to do with that?" You asked, horrified when you saw Minho attached a needle and tube to the end of the syringe. "That's blood! You're putting blood in me?"

"It's the only way you'll be one of us," said Minho. "Hold still or this will hurt even more."

"Wha-"

You flinched when Hyunjin tore off your shirt sleeve and tied it tightly around your bicep. Minho then started flicking the space between forearm and upper arm. 

"Stop struggling," Minho grunted, "I can't do it right if you're moving around."

You should've kissed your mother goodbye longer. She’d die thinking you’re living a good life in the castle; perhaps that is best. She’d be happy for you. Perhaps she’ll get her medicine and feel better. You’d thought you’d have plenty of chances to hug and kiss them. Now, you wouldn’t have that chance ever again. Minho managed to find the vein, and sunk the needle into it, ignoring your wincing. 

"He has strong veins, Felix," Minho said. "That is a good sign, no?"

"It is."

You couldn't look. You didn't see Minho inject Hyunjin's blood into your arm, but you certainly felt it. A deep searing pain suddenly ran through your veins. It scorched every nerve, causing you to violently shake on the table. Your screams went unheard by the brothers, who continued their ‘experiment’. You barely felt it when Hyunjin ripped open your shirt to reveal the torso underneath. The pain numbed you to the knife cutting from beneath the chest to the naval. The thick scent of blood filled your lungs; it spilled, fast and hot, from the gash in your stomach. You’re sure to die now. You cried out for your mother, for your father, for Mother Miranda, their protector and savior.  

Felix finally turned around, and in your blurry vision, you saw him holding a glass jar. You could not make out the inside, but it wiggled and ticked as it knocked into the glass sides. 

“Stay still,” Felix said, unscrewing the lid. “Moving around too much will interrupt the process.”

“This is the last time, Felix,” Minho said, putting the needle and vial aside. “Right?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he replied. 

Your jaw clenched so tight you couldn’t speak. Felix took out the contents of the jar with a pair of forceps. The creature wriggled between the metal clamps, but Felix had no trouble holding it steady. Your eyes widened when it came close enough for you to see it. Fleshy and pink, the creature had a large head and bumpy skin. It made Minho and Hyunjin wrinkle their noses in disgust while you screamed in terror. Felix remained unfazed by it all. He placed the veiny beast up against the open wound, and then sunk it deep inside. 

The thing whirled around inside, its slimy membrane slicking the opening to go deeper. It took several seconds for you to realize the hard mass in your stomach was the creature. The burrowing sensation added a whole new addition of pain. Your fists curled until skin tightened over your knuckles. You thrashed around as much as your bonds let you as the parasite latched itself to you. Soon, you felt your abdomen sickly churning which then spread to the rest of you. Your father’s face swam in front of you; the face of the man meant to protect and guide you. He sent you here. He sent his only son to his death. 

You prayed it was worth it.

****

Felix stood beside the table, watching the body twitching and writhing on the table until you stopped all at once. His eyes scanned you for signs of mutation or transformation; he looked for graying skin or black claws or bloodshot yellow eyes. He expected any moment for the subject to start thrashing, growling and foaming at the mouth as you turned into a Lycan, like so many other failures. Either that or die and never come back. When none of that happened, he gingerly touched the stomach wound. The Cadou parasite’s membrane held regeneration properties, he’d learned, so it often healed whatever wounds it created to enter the body. Felix felt around for the mass, feeling a hard ball deep underneath the muscle. Felix knew the parasite will assimilate to the DNA and alter your genetic makeup. He hoped injecting blood already infected with mold mutations will strengthen the host’s body and aid in the transformation. It had to work. This must work. 

“He’s not dead,” said Hyunjin, his voice breaking the silence. “I can hear his heart beating.”

Felix could hear it too. Your mind may have gone blank, but that was the Cadou taking over. The last subject took three days to morph into a Lycan, which was then released into the wild by the brothers. 

“That’s good, right? It means he might survive,” Hyunjin continued. 

“Only time shall tell us.” 

Felix turned back to his work table where he kept all his notes and books, and put down the jar. This was his last one. If this one did not work out, then he’d need to go back to the reservoir where Moreau kept his stash of parasites. He hoped he didn’t have to. Even if he can now adapt to the cold mountain climate, he still hated going to that eerie, stinking lake. But, if it helped his cause, he'd endure it a million times. 

He promised himself he’d build something marvelous, a creature of pure strength and agility that will make his mother proud. He looked at the books on his table. Felix spent ages researching, collecting, and absorbing any word of information he could about the Cadou parasite and the mold. He’d observed Moreau’s experiments from afar, and read all of his mother’s and Mother Miranda’s notes as well as jotting down his own discoveries. One sheet in particular caught his eye and his heart dropped. 

The crest of House Dimitrescu was a large flower with two swords crossing underneath it. A symbol of feminine strength and unity. His mother often told him she saw herself as the center with her blossoms at her sides. It’d always be her and her children. There’d once been four of them, but that changed so quickly. 

“I found his things,” Minho’s voice cut through his thoughts. “He dropped it in the main hall. We might find something of use in here.”

“Like a name.” 

Lady Dimitrescu still wore Jimin’s flower. A black rose she kept pinned to her chest with three others so she could keep them with her at all times. He remembered his youngest brother as he flipped through his journal for a blank page. 

Jimin was the last of them to be “born”. Black strands falling on the sides of his face, he’d been wiry, strong and full of life. Felix remembered how his mother fawned over his sweet smile and how he’d pout his full lips when he didn’t get his way. His mother adored them all, but Jimin had been her baby. He’d also been the most reckless. Felix should’ve kept him back when his younger brother chased The Huntsman. He told him to stay with Mother, and he and the others would handle them, but no. He should’ve listened to Minho. He should’ve listened to Mother. 

With a gun blast to a window and a gust of cold air, Jimin’s life ended in a flash. 

‘Day 0: 

Subject is a twenty-three year old male. A bit malnourished, but has a strong heartbeat and responded to the treatment favorably. I inserted the parasite spliced with infected blood, about half of a vial to avoid one overcoming the other. By touch alone, the Cadou appears to have latched itself to the subject’s stomach and began spreading instantaneously. I wish I could cut him open to see the extent, but that will ruin everything. I have high hopes for this one. He shows real promise.’ 

“His name is YN,” he heard Minho say. “Somebody sewed it into his shirt collar.” 

‘Further testing needs to be conducted, but I might finally have the weapon I’ve been looking for.’ 

“He’s handsome,” said Hyunjin. “Mother will love him, I’m sure of it.” 

“Mother cannot know,” Felix said, writing down the last of his notes. “Not yet.” 

“Why not?” he asked. 

He didn’t want to tell them, but his brothers knew him better than most. “Because she doesn’t know you’re still doing this,” Minho suspected, “Does she?” Felix heard the outrage build in his deep voice, “Have you been keeping these a secret from her?”

“She’ll try to stop me,” Felix replied. “She’d been so brokenhearted when the first three failed,” he faltered at Minho’s angry eyes. “I couldn’t tell her that I’d continued the experiments without her. She already believes it’s pointless.”

“Mother Miranda forbids us from creating any more vessels,” Minho said. “She told Mother there will be serious consequences if we continue these experiments without her permission. You know how serious Miranda is about the parasites and the metamycete. Hyunjin and I will already be in enough trouble for helping you, but imagine what she’ll do to the person who disobeyed her orders and stole valuable resources from her?” Felix heard the frustration in his voice. Minho, the eldest, never failed to call out the truth. “Felix, this must cease. These experiments of yours must stop. This must be the last one.” 

Minho, the strong loyal son who did all he could to protect his family. He’d borne the same guilt after Jimin’s death, but he’d learned to move on. Felix could not. 

“But I am so close,” he implored, gazing right into his brother’s eyes. “I can feel it. This one will be a success. I know it will.”

“That is what you said of the last one, and they died within a few hours,” he said. 

“Because they were weak,” Felix retorted. “This one is strong. He’ll survive.” 

“Felix,” Minho said gently, “Please, promise us this will be the last one.” 

“We need to keep going,” he replied through gritted teeth. “We need to keep trying until we get the right one.”

“Promise us, Felix,” Hyunjin spoke up this time. “Mother is still grieving over Jimin. If she hears that you’ve been doing this, she might think you’re trying to replace him and become even more upset. Promise you’ll stop.”

“Mother will see I am right when he is ready,” Felix said. “Once she sees how strong, durable, and agile my creation is, she will forget all of that. She wants to kill The Huntsman more than any of the others. She wishes to seek revenge on them, and when she sees that my creation can do what we cannot, she’ll understand. When my creation is fully grown, Mother and Mother Miranda will see the benefits of having such a creature.”

“She said she did not want us going anywhere near The Huntsman,” said Hyunjin. “She doesn’t want to lose us too.”

“We won’t be going near them. He will,” he nodded to the body on the table. “The Huntsman is not the average villager. There is something different about them. I can tell.” He hesitated, “You two weren’t there. You weren’t there when Jiminie died.” 

His throat dried up suddenly, and he looked away from them. He’d heard Jimin’s cries from the lower kitchens during his search for an intruder. They’d been low, deep grunts as he fought off against a strange figure in a hooded trench coat. Felix recalled standing at the end of the hall leading towards the kitchen, and hearing Jimin fight for his life. He’d insisted on joining them in hunting down the person who’d broken into their castle. Felix told him to stay with their mother, but he'd escaped. Felix had flown right to the doorway, intent on handling the Huntsman himself, when the Huntsman shot at the window by the door. Icy cold air streamed into the room, creating a barrier between Felix and the two. His hand instinctively flexed when he thought of the burning, paralyzing ice on his hand. He tried pushing through several times, Jimin’s grunts making him more desperate, before it happened. 

The Huntsman grabbed Jimin by the collar and threw him into one of the windows. The direct contact caused Jimin’s body to stiffen, and Felix watched as his youngest brother succumbed to their one weakness. Felix chased the Huntsman throughout the castle, grief boiling his blood and fueling his rage, before the Huntsman made it outside and over the garden wall. All that was left of Jimin was his torso and crumbled crystals on the floor. Felix remembered kneeling beside him, sobbing and cradling the crystalline body full of regret and self-loathing. The grief worsened when his mother found them. Her cries still echo in his head late at night. 

“They got lucky,” Minho told him. “There is nothing special about them.”

“Then how come we cannot find them, hm?” he snapped, his own guilt starting to fill his chest once more. “Why can’t Heisenberg’s boys find them? Changbin, Chan and Han have a better sense of smell than any one-oh, do not make that face. You know it’s true,” he told Hyunjin, who’d scoffed. “They would have at least spotted a cottage or a hideout, but they haven't. I am telling you. That bastard, whoever they are, is not normal. We need someone who can rid us of them for good, and he is it.” 

Felix did not particularly like thinking of Chan Heisenberg. As if Jimin’s memory did not already break his heart, Chan only piled onto that. 

“Darling,” Hyunjin came to him, cupping his cheek, “What happened to Jimin isn’t your fault.”

Yes, it was, but he’d never say so out loud. 

“You’ve already done enough to prepare us for another attack,” he said. “You made us immune to the cold. If they were to come now, no amount of wind or ice could stop us. We do not need any experiment you create.” He pushed blond strands from Felix’s face, “You don’t have to keep doing this. You could possibly end up dead too, if the wrong person found out about this.” 

Hyunjin spoke truthfully, and Felix knew this. He will surely face Miranda’s wrath if she learned what he was up to; his mother might face consequences for her son’s actions. But, they’d understand the benefits of his plan with time. His mother did not always approve of his experiments. He hadn't forgotten his mother’s shock when she found him standing stark naked in their courtyard, letting the cold air touch his skin. 

Shortly after Jimin’s passing, Felix decided he wouldn’t lose another brother ever again. So, he went to work creating a genome that would give them the ability to adapt to freezing temperatures. He tested this mainly on himself: injecting the serum into his arm, then sticking his hand out the window. Starting with a hand, it soon became his whole arm, then his shoulder, then his chest, until finally he could stand in the cold unharmed. His insect form took time to adapt to the change, but soon enough he was able to move as swiftly outside as he could inside. He passed it to both Minho and Hyunjin, making all three men tolerant of the climate. 

When they saw The Huntsman again, no amount of icy wind could destroy them. 

"If this one fails-" Minho began to say, but Felix cut him off. 

"-It won't fail," he snapped. 

"If it does," he continued, "This will be the last one."

"What?"

"I won't participate in something that would hurt our mother," Minho said firmly. "She grieves enough for Jimin. Giving her false hope of another son is cruel even for you, Felix."

"She's in enough pain," Hyunjin added. "Even if she doesn't say it. She still has his corpse in her bed chambers. She won't put it in the crypt."

Felix knew this well. He often came across Jimin's crystalized torso standing in a glass display in his mother's bedroom. She’d look at it whenever she was alone and weep. It was another reminder of his failure and her loss. He promised himself he wouldn't let Jimin die in vain. He created the serum so she may never lose another son to weaknesses. He would give her another one to replace the boy she lost, and this time make him faster and stronger. 

"Fine," he stated, "If that's how you feel, you're free to not participate anymore. But, I am going to keep trying. The Huntsman needs to be stopped. If you two may not take this threat seriously, but I do. I won’t sit by and let them continue insulting our house; I won’t let them stomp out our bloodline. They will pay for what they have done to us, to our mother, to Jimin-” he stopped short, swallowing down the lump filling his throat and taking a breath. 

“Felix,” Minho said, “Jimin wouldn’t want you to do something that may get you killed-”

“-Well, Jimin isn’t here,” he growled. “He’s dead! He’s dead because I wasn’t strong enough to save him! I promised Mother I’d protect him, and I didn’t!” 

“Felix-”

"-Boys!" A female voice spoke from somewhere above. Their mother may be several feet above the dungeons, but they heard her faintly. "Boys, where are you?"

"Don't you two dare tell her," Felix warned them. 

"We won't," Minho said, "It is better she never learns of this."

"Felix? Minho? Hyunjinnie!" He heard their mother call to them again, “Boys?” 

"If this one should fail, she will never know."

"It will not fail."

"Come, let's away," Hyunjin said between them. "Mother is calling."

The three young men swirled into insects, and flew from their laboratory into the main hall. Lady Alcina Dimitrescu stood in the middle of the hall in front of the fire, her white gown illuminated by the flames. She sucked on the end of a cigarette holder coolly, letting the thick stream into the air as she contemplated quietly. Standing ten feet tall, her black hair in curls under a wide-brimmed hat, their mother was a woman of elegance and sophistication. Yet, even with this, she still exudes power, and demands the respect of her aristocratic birth. A smile graced her face when they appeared in front of her, immediately turning to them. However, the smile faded when she looked at them closely.

"You've been arguing," she stated, glancing between the three of them.

"Felix tried taking one of the corpses from the dungeons to his lab," Hyunjin said. His creative mind made him a clever liar. "I told him to leave them be since they have no use beyond their blood, but he disagreed."

"I wanted to study them," Felix added. "I wanted to see what made them turn into those undead things."

"It's obviously the blood disease, you fool," Minho rolled his eyes.

"I also wanted to see if I could somehow isolate that disease and use it for-"

"-To get a bigger head to fit your ego?-"

"-If anyone has an 'ego' around here, it's you-"

"-That's enough!" Their mother cut in, looking between the two of them. "I told you to leave those creatures alone, Lixie," she said, walking past them to a chair by the fire. “They are far past any real use to anyone.” 

“I was only curious, Mother,” he replied. His eyes met Minho’s, and the elder stuck out his tongue. 

"How was your meeting, Mother?" Hyunjin asked, gliding to her side and sitting on the floor, his head on her knee. He closed his eyes as her fingers combed through his dark hair. 

"Heisenberg didn't give you trouble, did he?" Asked Minho, grabbing a wine pitcher from nearby to pour glasses for them all. Sangrias Virginis. Maiden's Blood. House Dimitrescu were famous for their winemaking, having a special blend with a secret ingredient. 

Virgin blood. 

"Nothing outside the usual," she said. "Mother Miranda wished to discuss the baby again. She senses the child is close, and will soon be in our grasp."

"She already has you and the other lords. I don’t understand why she needs a baby," Hyunjin said, taking his own glass from Minho’s tray. "Could she not simply take a regular baby and use that? Why this specific one? "

"She believes this child has qualities that will make the experiment favorable" she replied. She took a long drink from the glass, then said, "Nothing can really replace a lost child. You cannot remake them a second time." The three men exchanged nervous glances and drank from their cups. She gave a soft sigh, "I made a decision, my sons."

"Yes?"

"I've decided," she paused, "I've decided it is time to put Jimin to rest."

"In the family crypt, you mean."

"No, not in the crypt. He never liked it down there. I thought perhaps in the music room. You know how much he loved music." Felix saw the sadness in his mother's eyes. "He deserves that.”

“What he deserves is vengeance,” Felix said over his cup. He swished the crimson liquid around in the silver wine glass, contemplating his subject downstairs. “He deserves to be avenged.”

“We have already discussed this, Felix,” Alcina said firmly. “You are not to seek out The Huntsman. You boys leave that filthy meatsack to me.” She then continued, “I think he’d look lovely in the nook in the corner.”

“I can paint a portrait of him for you, Mother,” said Hyunjin. “We can hang it next to him.”

“That’d be beautiful,” she agreed. 

Felix did not want to think of what that looked like. He imagined Jimin's corpse being put on display in their music room, a grand space across from Hyunjin’s atelier, where the grand piano sat. The family sometimes gathered there after dinner, where Jimin played his compositions on the piano or the violin. Felix did not want to think of his body sitting in its glass case, no longer able to play his beloved instruments for their entertainment anymore. It wouldn’t be a music room. It’d be a burial site. They'd carry him there, say kind words and put him in a corner. Felix drowned the vision with more wine, the blood thick on his tongue. He thought about the corpse on his lab table. 

You will not be another failure. He'd make sure of it.

***

A/N: Another experiment, Felix? Let's hope this one doesn't fail like the last. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and that you stick around for the other chapters. Please feel free to reblog/like and give a little comment if you want <3 it keeps fics alive.

[mullermilkshake]

Yandere! Kento Nanami

Cross posted from my AO3

Tags: NSFW kinda. Yandere themes. Kidnapping. Restraints. Threat of violence.

MINORS DNI ---

Word count - 2.4k

“Don’t be unreasonable.” 

Kento Nanami sat just out of your reach, hunched over on a small upturned bucket, feet planted firmly on the ground, but his personality flying away with him. You couldn’t see his eyes in the darkness of the poorly dim lit overhead light, but he was definitely staring at you like he always did. 

You couldn’t help but laugh until it turnt sour. “Unreasonable? Really?! I’m being unreasonable; you chained me up like a fucking animal! You psycho!”

Oh, yes. He had put you down in his basement for however long after managing to find you again. The train station of all places like he had access to the cameras, he was just always there, in the house seeing your every move, he tried calling you before you even managed to get to the end of the road to dispose of the phone he gave you. 

“You are being unreasonable, I buy everything you want, anything you could possibly ask for, but you never let me in. So yes you are, and this is for your own safety, you were going to leave me.” 

“I don’t know you, I don't ask for anything!” The metal cup on the floor you’d scrambled across the room for flew from your hand and only just missed him, the water never touching him either. 

He was just out of reach, just out of reach to strangle, to beat or maim in a way to get him to hand over the keys and he knew that much too, never bringing the keys with him, a coward's insurance because he must have thought little old you would take his built existence down. 

A fucking coward.

“Then let me, I thought we were past this.” He leant on his closed fist and shifted onto his side. “All I want is to take care of you and you are making this incredibly difficult because I was very concise from the beginning in exchange for your compliance. You had nothing to your name, but I have everything you need. Let me help you.” 

He was looking more gaunt in later days, a scruffy shirt and drawn in posture uncomfortably contorted as his legs folded in half at the knee being so low to the ground. You were on your knees, arms stretched out to lengthen your body past your chained ankle .

You noticed that the skin around his nails was dry and bitten, uncomfortably nibbled with anxiety and stress to which you could only speculate that he hadn’t been sleeping. 

“When was the last time you slept? Don’t go passing out on me.” You would not call an ambulance if he did, but either way it would fuck you getting out.

“Those are kind words.” There was a hint of a small smile on his lips. “If you want to know, I’ve found myself lacking sleep because you aren’t up there to join me. I’ve grown used to it now.”

That was laughable. A man who handcuffed you to him upstairs to make sure you never left, and would wake him every time you moved. You hoped at first when he took the cuffs off he would trust you enough, because he was only human and would have to fall asleep eventually. Then came the nightcaps and warm tea to knock you out until morning with no recollection of anything until you figured it out and found his stash.

But Kento Nanami was an incredibly intelligent man, you had to give him that. He noticed a mile off when you suggested making the tea yourself, what a fucking stupid mistake that was to make when he insisted you drink it first. He was a very sly, knowledge welding demon who came back from anything you threw at him like a cockroach in a nuclear blast, a gross limpet indefinitely stuck to the hull of a boat. 

Anything. Everything. He was three steps ahead. 

“Well you’ll be lonely for a while then.” You wouldn’t sleep next to him again if you could help it and if you had to, you'd just scream in his ear and pinch him to destroy his sleep. Lack of sleep was a dangerous thing.

Part of you wondered if you weren't that lucky you escaped on your own, but rather he had actually let you leave, a sick game to find you and therefore have a twisted reason to punish you. Kento Nanami was undeniably clever and the more you thought about it, that thought cemented inside your head like a tick, burying away into self doubt.

You weren’t lucky, the only luck you had was that he didn’t kill you, but even that he had made clear he wouldn't do, you were sure he’d stop at nothing to keep you there short of forcing you to survive just so you could exist. 

He stood and straightened himself up. “I’m going to sleep down here with you while you learn to behave, I’ll have to teach you manners again on how you should act.” He wandered over to the stairs that lead up to the rest of the house that was out of sight, but you could still hear him clearly. ”No one can see into the future, but maybe I’ll let you take a walk with me when the ground thaws out… If you listen and behave.”

Behave, telling you to behave like a fucking child whilst he had his arms full of sleeping gear for a fucking camping trip. This wasn’t a luxury resort, the basement was freezing and dark, even worse when it rained when the wind whipped against the small vent. 

The shackle chain dug into your ankle, pulling, tugging on the skin which reddened it and rashed. He was so hard to entertain, to say the right things before he retreated into his shell and shunned you for a day to ‘collect himself’. 

Another attempt wouldn’t hurt. You stood up and got as close as you could without appearing pissed off. Maybe desperate would cater to what he wanted instead, because he hadn’t actually broken you yet. Not properly at least. “I’ll behave. I-I will, you'll see. I’ll be the best… whatever you want me to be, ever. I’ll make you proud.” 

Was it a little too strong? Maybe. He stepped forward to you, the overhead light highlighting his features. “Nice try Darling. I know you're still angry at me so please don’t test my intellect.”

You blankly glared at him, he even talked to you like shit in a nice way the fucker, talking down like he was the smartest man in the room, even his friend Gojo had picked up on that when you met him. The pair of them were horrid, more alike than Nanami gave himself credit for. You hated him, you hated the house, the basement and the way the fucking door at the top of the stairs creaked when it opened.  

You hadn’t realised how close he was but you spoke anyway in all of the red you saw. “You fucking-”  

Nanami took a hold of your arm and pulled you towards him, his breath tickled past your ear, but he wasn’t whispering. “You know, Gojo feels about his person exactly the way I feel about you and she isn’t so lucky. You know what kind of man he is, don’t you?”

The vibration of his words made your eardrum tingle and covered you in standing hairs. “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t let go, but squeezed his hand a little, a warning shot you assumed. It didn’t hurt, but you knew he was there. “Gojo plays with his things, because she was exactly like you, trying her damndest to leave him. That broke his heart and he took much more restrictive measures to keep her safe, away from bad influences. I can be like that, would you like to see it?”

“N-no.” You had only met Gojo once and Nanami often mentioned him as a scare tactic and it worked every time. The only thing it seemed that put you in your place.

He huffed a sigh of relief it seemed and loosened his grip on your arm. “Good. Because that would absolutely break my heart Darling. Gojo is cruel to keep the person he loves safe, I don’t want to extend that type of courtesy to you.”

Gojo was arrogant and a bastard. You were uncomfortable before he even stepped foot through the door when he came to the house, you didn’t even try to plead with him when Nanami left the room. He came to you, not the other way around. 

“If you were mine, you wouldn’t have this much freedom.” You always remembered that fucking look in his eyes over the rims of his sunglasses, it would have made most people piss themselves.

You weren’t sure what to say to back to Nanami. “How generous of you.”

He picked up a strand of loose hair and fiddled with it between his fingertips, rubbing the pads on the texture as though to take it in to remember what it felt like. “I know you don’t believe me and I hope you do with time, but I do love you. I would never be like Gojo, not to hurt you intentionally, so please don’t back me into a corner with no choice.”

Nanami always claimed that he was infatuated with you, looking at you with adoring eyes even when you shouted obscenities and threw dishes at him. Gojo, he was nothing like Nanami and that’s what terrified you, that power imbalance was astronomical and the only thing stopping Nanami from doing the things Gojo did was his self proclaimed love for you.

Gojo wasn’t in love, he was a psychopath with far too much power at his fingertips. But Nanami wasn’t in love with you either and you lost so much sleep trying to understand him, to work out why he was drawn to you. 

A blank slate every single time because the situation was totally ridiculous.

He leant in and you were sure he inhaled you. “I hate seeing you upset.”

There was no helping a man like Kento Nanami, so set in his deluded ways that there was no getting through to him. 

You tried your best to explain and maybe if you couldn’t escape, you could make things easier. “If you don’t want to hurt me and prefer it when I’m happy, then let me go from the basement. Maybe we could work something out, but treating me this way won’t make me love you back. Love is earned, built up over time.” 

Though you weren't about to bend over backwards for him. You’d make your escape eventually even if it took a whole year.

“And I have done none of that?” He backed away, his brows lowered in a hurtful expression and narrowed eyes. “You have been here almost a year and you’re still the same from when you first arrived, I don’t know what more I can do.”

A year, already? Everyone definitely thought you were dead, or eloped somewhere. Who were you kidding? Definitely dead.

“I-I’m not saying let me leave from here, just out of the basement. A relationship is built on trust a-and I know I haven’t been exactly trustworthy, but have faith. I won’t disappoint you again; I won't disappear on you again.” It made you want to vomit, a churned stomach at those bullshit words that somehow came out genuine. 

Nanami must have seen it too because he hesitated, just for a moment in his own confliction. Were you telling the truth? Not completely, but he seemed to process it as fact but never confirmed it. 

“I’ll give this a go, but you need to try and trust me. Can you do that?”

Nanami came back to you, so close and bushed down your arms that gave you goosebumps, you wanted to pull away from him, slink into the corner and tell him to fuck off, but you stood your ground in his deafening silence. 

You whispered, breathless enough to entice him, enough to keep yourself from grimacing. “Let's go upstairs, hm?”  

His hands found their way to your cheeks, cupping them like a romance novel, inclined to kiss you softly. You wanted to back away and push him from you, kick his shin, but you stayed firm even when his nose brushed yours. 

He was attractive in your eyes had you met him in a bar or club you probably would have gone back to his for a quick fuck or two, maybe even a casual thing and allowed his twisted self to remain beneath the surface without a care because that’s all he was, a stranger.

To his defence which you regretted supporting, he had never touched you inappropriately that had any sexual undertones. But with the look across his features locked on to you, he had a different thought in mind. 

Would you do it? Could you do it? 

Nanami had his hands at your waist now after dropping from your face, pulling you closer, lips almost touching. “Let me take care of you. I want you to feel good being here with me.”

The first proposition since you had been taken, at least it lasted this long, but could you actually go through with it? Get access to the keys while he slept and smother him with a pillow, that would be too quick, he'd overpower you in. a heartbeat. You would need to play the long game. 

You could do it, no words left your lips so you only nodded. 

His lips were far softer than you thought, though his hands were even more so, holding you there in a firm yet gentle grasp. The weight on your ankle stayed heavy, aching but keeping you grounded enough to see the wood for the trees. 

The kiss was slow, sensual and you tried your best to keep with it and even went as far as to rest your hands on his muscled chest. There was no tongue, not a feverish expression in sight with an almost innocence about it, a first kiss but far more control than you initially thought Nanami had. 

Then he pulled away. “Tomorrow, let's sleep first.”

It was like he knew, but didn’t say and he walked away like it hadn’t happened and picked up his stuff to sleep on. 

Did he know, catch on to your tricks? You didn’t want to know, but the night was going to drag on forever. His guard was up and there wasn't anything you could do that wouldn’t arouse suspicion.

You just prayed he would never show a side like Gojo.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Seventeen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing too warning worthy, just some really creepy vibes at the end. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.5k

A/N : happy fic-friday!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Seventeen

You sat in silence, too paralysed by fear to think rationally. There were things you knew you should be doing, like looking out of the window and trying to figure out where you were and, perhaps more importantly, where you were going. But, really, what did it matter? You’d always known that it would come down to this, that you’d end up his prisoner and, now, you knew for certain that no one was going to save you.

Your eyes drifted to the rear window, not looking at him, not even acknowledging his existence. 

The streets of New York all looked the same at night; all bright lights and crowds of people. The only thing you could tell was that you didn’t seem to be leaving the city. Somehow that made things worse, knowing that you were still so close to Billy but you might as well have been a million miles away. 

And, suddenly, despite your situation, Billy was all you could think about. He was probably at Josie’s by now, he’d probably realised that you were gone and that he’d never see you again. He was probably so angry.

“You’ll soon get tired of giving me the silent treatment,” he stated with a confidence that made you sick to your stomach, “but I’m not going to rush you. I have patience and we have the rest of forever.”

Forcing a breath, you tried everything you could to keep a blank face and not give into the scared helplessness that was filling you. Your gaze remained focused on the window and the streets you’d been so excited to explore only a few weeks ago. 

A sense of claustrophobia took hold the moment the limo turned into an underground parking structure, darkness filling the car and making you feel more trapped than ever. Then the car stopped.

You didn’t move, didn’t even tear your eyes away from the window.

Until he reached for you.

His cold hand on yours caused you to flinch and pull away, only to find fingers tightly gripping your good wrist.

“You’re going to behave for me,” he told you, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“Or what?”

You weren’t sure what came over you in that moment but you were just as surprised by your sudden snap as he was.

“Do I have to remind you what will happen to your family?” He asked, leaning closer, gripping tighter. “Or maybe I should remind you what I’m capable of...”

“You don’t scare me anymore, Mr Drake,” you answered back, his name spat from your mouth like venom despite knowing you were only making things worse. 

“Please, you should call me Justin since you’re going to be my wife,” he offered with a smile that made you feel ill. “And you should be scared of what could happen if you try to refuse me again.”

“Am I supposed to care what happens to my parents after they sold me to you?”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, a sound that caused the dread in your stomach to continue to build.

“And what about Irene? You still care about her, right?”

The sound of your sister’s name on his lips was almost enough to cause your heart to stop. It was a lie, it had to be. She’d been gone for years, no one knew where she was or how to find her.

“You’re lying.” You decided to call his bluff.

He let go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. A moment later you felt bile rise in the back of your throat at the picture he showed you. It had been years since you’d seen her, but there was no mistaking that it was your older sister. The sickening feeling only continued to increase as he started to swipe through pictures; pictures of a family, of two young children and a telltale bump on her belly.

“If you’d prefer I could take what’s owed me from her instead, along with your nephews and your unborn niece.” He put the phone away, no longer needing it to threaten you. He’d made his point.

“You’re a monster.”

He laughed again.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea.” He leaned to open the door and then gave a wave of his hand, indicating that he wanted you to move. “It’s up to you whether we do this the easy way or the hard way.”

For a few seconds you remained completely still, defiant.

Then you moved.

What choice did you have? You knew he could bend you to his will if he wanted to, you knew he could hurt you and those closest to you. More than that, you knew that you were completely alone. No one was going to look for you. No one was coming to your rescue.

“Good choice,” you heard him mutter as he followed you out of the limo.

You bristled at the touch of his hand against your lower back, guiding you towards the elevator but you moved regardless, knowing better than to think you could outrun a vampire in the gloomy parking lot.

The elevator doors slid shut, trapping you with him and his driver, watching as he swiped a key card for the penthouse floor. Your heart lurched along with the elevator and, despite wanting to remain steely and unphased by the situation, you found yourself pulling your arms across your chest.

It was only then that you realised your suitcase was nowhere to be seen. Try as you might, you couldn’t remember what had happened to it. It had been with you when you left Josie’s but then you’d walked into Krista and -

And after that, everything was hazy.

“Where are my things?” You asked. “I had a suitcase.”

“Gone. You don’t need it,” he answered.

Your chest tightened, squeezing out a breath. Your eyes fixed forward, unblinking, not wanting to show him how upset you were. You weren’t bothered about your things, about your purse or phone, but your heart was breaking over the stuffed beagle that meant so much to you, the last little piece of Billy that you had.

“I want it,” you demanded defiantly. 

“Why?” He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Because it’s mine. If you want me to stay here and not cause problems, then you need to find it.” You glared at him as he spoke, as if there was really anything you could do to hurt him. 

He seemed disinterested but shrugged before giving his driver a glance. The man nodded, understanding his orders without a word even passing between them. Though, by now, you knew it was probably too late. You’d probably never see Bill the Beagle again.

As he led you into the penthouse suite, his driver disappeared back into the elevator, but you weren’t so naive as to think that you were alone with him. He’d have his goons somewhere near, in case he needed them. If you wanted to even think about trying to get away from him again, you were going to have to bide your time.

Your stomach dropped when you were led into a bedroom. You lingered in the doorway, leaving as much space between you and him as you could and, of course, he noticed.

“There’s no need to be shy,” he told you, barely holding back a smirk.

“I’m not being shy,” you answered back. 

His gaze darkened.

“I can’t say that I like this new attitude you seem to have developed. I can see now why William Russo had to resort to physical means to keep you in line,” he stated, gesturing at your broken arm.

“You don’t know anything about Billy,” you snapped through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Billy is it?” He asked, looking at you like he could look right through you, like he could tell every little thought in your head, and he didn’t like what he saw. “Got close to him, did you?”

You felt your cheeks start to burn while your hands clenched to fists at your side, and he noticed it all.

“More than that?” He asked, though he didn’t need to hear an answer. “You’re lucky I’m not a jealous man, otherwise I might have taken it out on poor dear Billy. But, then, why should I be jealous of a vampire who likes to play with his food?” 

“You know nothing about it or him.”

“Oh, I know plenty,” he answered back. “Enough to know that he’ll have a new girl in his employ, bleeding for him by the end of the week and probably in his bed just as quick, just like he replaced your friend Krista...”

You shook your head, insolent, even though some part of you wondered if he was right. Perhaps Lissa had already put out an advertisement for your replacement.

But you weren’t given time to linger on the thought. He closed the distance between you, his cold fingers grasping your chin, turning your head one way and then the other as he inspected your neck.

“Did he bite you?” He asked and you stayed silent, so he resorted to threats. “Do I have to strip you and check for myself?”

The threat was enough to break you. “No. He didn’t bite me.”

“Good. Now get changed out of those clothes, so we can have supper and discuss our future together.” A wave of his hand led your gaze to an outfit that had been set out for you on the bed.

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

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Billy asked as if he thought Karen might have some magic answer to explain everything that was going on.

She’d explained about Madani, about the questions the Homeland agent had about Billy, as well as the warning that she’d offered outside the hospital. But she only knew what you had shared with her and the little that Madani had been willing to say, and it wasn’t a lot. 

And it certainly wasn’t enough for Billy.

“I don’t know, I guess because she didn’t believe it, she didn’t think it was worth worrying you with it,” Karen offered, lifting her glass and taking a slow drink.

Billy and Frank had asked around, hoping someone had seen you while Karen called Madani, but the most they got was from a drunk who thought you might have gotten into a limousine with friends. By the time they sat to wait for the Homeland agent, Billy was crawling out of his skin.

“And you’re sure she didn’t believe it?” He asked, again trying to get an answer that he knew Karen couldn’t possibly know.

“Well, she saw Krista, didn’t she?” Frank offered. “Hard to think you killed someone who’s still walkin’ around.”

“But, what if -” he started and stopped as Karen dared to reach across the table, placing a hand on his arm.

“Billy, she didn’t leave because she thought you’d done something wrong,” she offered.

“No, she left because I’m like... this...”

Frank bristled at his side but didn’t say anything, though Karen could tell just how much effort it took for him to bite his tongue. She’d seen them have that argument before, and she’d been the one left to console Frank afterwards.

“We’ll find her, Billy,” Karen tried again, pulling back her hand.

“I just -” he started but stopped the moment he noticed a woman in a suit approaching them, eyeing him with very obvious suspicion.

Karen’s eyes followed Billy’s, and she quickly stood up.

“Agent Madani.”

“Ms Page,” she greeted Karen before uncomfortably eyeing Billy and Frank.

“Something’s happened and we need your help,” Karen tried to explain, waving a hand, trying to get Madani to sit. 

Between the three of them, they explained what had happened as far as they knew, up to the point where they found your suitcase on the sidewalk. An uncomfortable silence fell while Madani took it all in.

“How can you be sure she didn’t just abandon it?” Madani asked, glancing at the case.

“She wouldn’t do that,” Billy answered, his hand resting on the stuffed beagle. “Why would she leave her phone and purse?”

Madani looked at him for a few moments, saying nothing.

“And how do I know that any of this is true?” She finally asked. “How do I know that this isn’t some elaborate ruse? How do I know she isn’t dead somewhere and all of this is to stop me from asking questions later on?”

“I didn’t kill her. I haven’t killed anyone. I -” Billy started to snap.

“Bill,” Frank warned, silencing him.

“You’ve got a badge, right?” Karen asked. “The store across the street has got a security camera pointed at the street, you can take a look at the last hour and see if we’re telling the truth or not.”

Frank struggled to fight back a grin, nudging Karen with his elbow, impressed with her. Madani on the other hand, seemed a little less enthusiastic. 

“It’s not that simple, I’d need a warrant, and -”

“We don’t have time -” Karen started.

“Fuck this,” Billy muttered, getting to his feet.

Frank followed suit. “What’re you doin’, Bill?” 

“I’m going to get the security footage myself,” he answered.

“Hey, if you think I’m going to sit back while you commit a crime -” Madani was on her feet a second later.

“The more time we waste, the harder it’s going to be to find her,” Billy snapped. “And I’m not going to lose her. You can either help or you can stay out of my way, but I’m warning you, Agent Madani, I’m not someone you want as an enemy.”

Without another word, he started towards the door, Madani and Frank following after while Karen opted to hang back with your suitcase.

Billy made his way across the street, not caring if he was followed; he was determined to find out what happened, with or without help. With the way he was feeling, he’d tear the store owner apart if he even tried to get in his way. And Frank seemed to realise that. It was why he didn’t let Billy get more than a few feet ahead of him.

And Madani followed because she was almost hoping that he’d do something to prove her right about him.

“How we doin’ this then?” Frank asked just outside the little corner store, stopping Billy in his tracks. 

“That’s up to Agent Madani,” Billy answered, glaring at the Homeland agent.

For a few seconds she looked at the two vampires, hating that she was being put on the spot but realising that there was nothing that she could do to stop them from looking at the footage one way or another.

“Fine, wait here,” she answered, as she moved to step past Billy.

“What? If you think I’m -” Billy was silenced by Frank’s hand on his shoulder.

Madani waited for a beat before entering the store alone.

The bell over the door chimed, signalling her arrival to the young guy behind the counter who looked up from his phone for a split-second before dropping his gaze again. Madani strode towards the counter, reaching into her jacket for her badge and ID. For a few seconds she didn’t say anything, instead she listened to the faint sounds coming from the assistant's phone.

‘If vampire’s keep taking all the wealth and making it so honest, hard working humans can’t find a decent job that pays a decent wage -”

She cleared her throat, having heard all she needed to. Anti-vampire sentiment was still widespread and there were plenty of online commentators willing to try to make a quick buck from it, and in this situation, it was something she could use to her advantage.

“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she stated. The kid looked ready to shit himself at the sight of her badge. “I’m going to need to see the CCTV footage from the front of the store for the last couple of hours.”

“I -” for a moment he struggled to find the words, “- I think I’d need to ask my boss.”

“Is he here right now?”

“No, he lives in Jersey...”

Madani let out a sigh, letting the kid see her frustration.

“Listen, I’ll level with you, I’m tracking a dangerous vampire,” she told him and saw a flicker of anger on his face. “I think they’ve hurt a lot of people, a lot of young women about your age...”

“Fucking bloodsuckers,” he muttered.

“If I could see that footage, I might be able to catch him and, if I do...” she shrugged, “well, there’d be nothing to stop you from posting the whole thing online. I hear you can make a lot of money with stuff like this.”

Madani could practically see dollar signs lighting up behind his eyes. At any other time it might have bothered her just how easily influenced the kid was, but time was of the essence and she needed to know if Russo was lying to her. 

“Yeah, okay,” the kid relented, “it’s in the back here.” 

He gave a quick glance around the store, making sure it was still empty before showing her into the backroom. The set up was hardly state of the art, but it was easy enough to use - in fact, she’d used several similar systems in the past, so it didn’t take her long to scrub through the video and find the exact moment that you left Josie’s. The picture quality wasn’t brilliant and the poor lighting on the street didn’t help, but you were easy enough to spot with your suitcase.

Madani watched as someone deliberately stepped into your path before taking you by the arm and leading you towards a waiting limousine. She managed to get half of the licence plate of the limo and snapped a quick photo of the blurry figure with her phone while the kid’s back was turned, then she stood.

“Is it on there?” He asked.

“No,” she answered, forcing another sigh, “looks like the bastard managed to slip by just out of range of the camera.”

His disappointment was palpable.

“But that isn’t to say that he won’t come back,” Madani offered, “so it’d be best if you didn’t mention this to anyone, otherwise you might spook him and... well, I wouldn’t want to see you charged with obstruction after you’ve been so helpful.” 

He nodded and she didn’t waste any time in making her excuses to get out of there.

Billy was pacing by the time she stepped back outside, both men seemed to be engaged in a heated debate about something, and it looked as though Russo was on the losing end of it.

“All I’m sayin’ is -”

“What did you find out?” Billy asked, ignoring Frank and quickly refocusing all of his attention on Madani.

“I’m not sure,” Madani stated, pulling out her phone, “she left the bar and someone met her outside before leading her to a limousine. There wasn’t a struggle but... something didn’t seem right...”

“You think someone was compellin’ her?” Frank asked.

“Maybe. I can’t be sure. I got a partial plate and I’m going to call in some favours to run it, see if I can figure out who owns the limo and where it went,” Madani explained before holding up her phone to the men, showing the blurry image she’d captured. “But, while we wait, we should try to figure out who this is.”

“Fuck,” Billy grit out almost instantly.

“Goddamnit,” Frank let out a second later.

“Well, that was quicker than expected. Care to fill me in?” Madani asked.

“I knew I should’ve killed her,” Billy muttered, forcing an uneven breath, struggling to stay in control of himself.

“It’s Krista Dumont, alive and well, and still pissin’ everyone off,” Frank answered, though his gaze stayed on Billy. “You went lookin’ for her, right, Bill? Know where she might be now?”

“Yeah, I know where she lives,” Billy answered, his attention quickly turning to Madani. “You wanted to know what happened to my previous employees, right? Well, you’re about to find out.”

Without another word, he started moving back towards where he’d left his car. Frank and Madani quickly followed after, the latter on her phone calling in those favours to try and track down the limo.

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

You were finally left alone to change, though you spent at least five minutes searching the room, looking for anything that might help you escape. As much as you’d felt resigned to this eventuality, just being around him again had panic and dread gnawing at your insides. You had to get away.

The first thing you did was check the windows, despite already knowing that you were too high up to even consider it an option. In fact, the penthouse suite was so high up that the people on the street below seemed like ants.

Next thing you checked was the room’s phone by lifting it to your ear. No dial tone. No cord connecting it to the wall. If you could get a cord from one of the other phones in the suite, you might be able to call for help. You filled away the thought for later. 

Then you checked the drawers and the wardrobe, feeling sick to your stomach when you found several outfits that were obviously for you. They looked like the sort of clothes your mother would have picked for you and not at all like the outfits you’d enjoyed wearing over the last six months. Even the dress he’d laid out on the bed for you felt uncomfortably conservative - though you supposed you should be glad he wanted you to dress that way.

Shaking your head you tried to force the thought away and concentrate on finding things that might be helpful. 

Wooden hangers could perhaps be turned into weapons but... well, that was a line you didn’t want to think about crossing until you really had to.

“Dinner is here,” you heard his voice from behind the door. “Unless you want me to come in there and dress you myself, I suggest you hurry up.” 

As much as you wanted to be stubborn, as much as you wanted to cause him as much trouble as possible, the sorry fact of the matter was that you were scared. And you had every reason to be scared. So, you gave up your search and quickly changed into the clothes that he had left for you and stepped out into the suite.

The main room was lit by lamps, creating a romantic glow that made you feel sick.

Instead of looking at him and the table, you glanced around the room, taking note of where the phone was and how close the door was. But your host seemed to realise what you were doing.

“Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair at the table.

You made a point of walking around him and taking a different seat.

“You’re starting to test my patience,” he remarked, taking his own seat. 

“Already?” You remarked off-handedly, reminding him of the comment he’d made not two hours ago in the limo.

“Did Billy Russo let you talk back like this?”

“He never gave me a reason to,” you answered without hesitation, despite knowing it wasn’t strictly true.

He gave a grunt of irritation before uncovering your food. You looked down at the plate, your lips curling at the sight; tuna steak and salad. While he started to eat, you simply stared down at the plate. Even though you knew you’d never see him again, let alone bleed for him, the thought of eating anything from his list of prohibited foods. It took Justin Drake  a minute to realise that you weren’t eating, and then came the frustrated sigh.

“Are you going to fight me on everything?” He asked.

“I don’t eat tuna.”

“Since when?”

“Since I decided I don’t like it.”

“Then eat the salad,” he snapped.

You took small consolation in the fact that you were already getting to him, showing him that you were going to be far more trouble than you were worth but, again, you knew better than to push too far too soon. He could hurt you. He would hurt you if he felt like it. 

Reluctantly, you began to pick at the salad with your fork, silently wondering if you’d be able to sneak any of the cutlery away from the table.

You ate in silence, neither speaking until you were both done. He’d poured you a glass of wine, but it had been left mostly untouched and, thankfully, he hadn’t thought to order dessert.

“Tomorrow we’ll be travelling home,” he informed you. “The wedding is being arranged as we speak and, by this time next week, you’ll be my wife, so you should rid yourself of any childish notions of escaping or denying me.”

“I won’t marry you.”

“Yes you will.”

“Why? Why any of this? Why me?” You asked, anger quickly starting to bubble over. “I’ll never stop fighting you, I’ll never be yours. How is any of this worth it to you?”

He just laughed at that, sitting back in his chair and lifting his wine glass to his lips, taking a slow drink before even thinking to answer you.

“Because it’s fate.”

“What?” Had you heard him correctly? Had he called it fate?

“It was never about the money - that was just to keep your parents in line - it’s always been about you, my sweet girl.” He continued to smile as your skin started to crawl. “I knew I had to have you the first time I set eyes on you.”

Your stomach continued to churn and tie itself in knots as you thought how long ago that must have been.

“Why?” You dared to ask even though you were terrified of how he might answer.

“You look just like your great-great-great-grandmother.” He paused as if he was expecting you to say something but the shock had rendered you silent. “She was like you, she refused me what should have been mine, and she paid the price.”

It felt like your blood had turned to ice in your veins, not sure exactly what he was telling you, but not wanting to ask for clarification either. You remained silent, wondering how long he’d been tormenting your family like this and if you were the first to find yourself in this situation with him. 

“I always regretted it, once she was gone I mean. I should have handled things differently, but I was young back then, barely past my first century...” he sounded almost wistful, like he was recounting a fond memory. “But then I found you. And I won’t make the same mistake twice. You will bend to my will. You will be my wife in every sense of the word and, when you’ve finally accepted your place at my side, I will give you the greatest gift imaginable.”

You didn’t have to ask to know what he was implying.

“No,” your head shook. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“My sweet girl, what makes you think you have a choice?”

End Note : ... I'm not even sorry about ending it like that, I'm having too much fun getting things ready for the final confrontation. I think that there's probably only two more chapters left of this one now (depending on how carried away I get with the next part), so I hope you all enjoy what I've got planned. Also I'm sorry I picked that name for the bad guy...

As ever, thank you so much for reading/liking/reblogging/screaming at me in the comments! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim

@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

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@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana @strwbrrynd @cheshirecat484 @jvanilly

@ashy-kit @jazzclubprincess @arwensloanebarnes

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Just for a second - Lando x fem reader

Summary: Y/N "dated" Lando for a while but life happens and sometimes it isn't a fairy tale.

Warnings: Fluff and a sad ending.

Word Count: 17K

Notes: Please, no second part requests. This is me trying to deal with personal stuff I don't know how to work out, and writing helps me get it out. I wrote it in a rush so excuse the mistakes.

___________________________________________________________

An Instagram DM request caught your attention, when clicking on the notification his name froze you. You doubted about opening it.

After panicking for a couple of minutes you finally did.

LvNg4Lf Hey, I will be in Italy next week. Can I take you out for some dinner?

Your heart rushed a million miles an hour.

You had kept yourself busy for the last year to keep him out of your mind, but the moment his stupid face and name appeared on your phone it all came back.

"Y/n? Are you ok?" Ana, your best friend and roommate asked softly as if not to scare you.

"Sorry, yes" you answered matching her tone

"Are you sure? You're biting your nails again"

You removed your hand from your mouth.

"He messaged me"

"Who?" You just stared at her. "Oh hell no, what does he want?"

"He will be here next week, he wants to buy me dinner"

"Why?"

"Don't know"

"What did you say?"

"I haven't answered"

"Are you going?"

"I don't know"

"How do you feel?"

"I don't know, I thought a year would be enough to get over it, but I guess not" you said signaling your bitten nails.

"I don't know what to tell you"

"It's ok, I don't know what I need to hear"

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Hell, no, it's your anniversary dinner. You go, I will be fine"

"Are you sure, I can tell-"

"Go" You pushed her off the couch "Say hi to Leo from me. Have fun"

"Ok, but message me if you need anything"

"I won't and you know it, go!" You pushed her out the door and sat back on the couch, your phone on the coffee table. How could something so insignificant as a message have you losing your mind?

You and Lando had met in the UK at a Quadrant shooting, your boss was in charge of the art department for the shooting but that weekend he had caught a bad cold, and after the pandemic, anything close to the mild flu meant someone else had to take the job and that's how you found yourself in a meeting room with Lando, Max and the rest of the creative team.

It was an instant click, he was funny, and smart, and much to your surprise he had a good eye for colors, textures, and lighting, he was clearly an amateur but better than a few of your "professional" coworkers.

The shooting was long but so entertaining and with such an amazing vibe between you and Lando, when he offered to drive you to your hotel you didn't hesitate and said yes.

It was all super friendly, both of you talking about everything and nothing at the same time, you sat in his car talking well past 5 am.

The next morning you got an Instagram follow request from a weird account and a DM request.

LvNg4Lf Hi, it's Lando, last night was so much fun, it was amazing working with you. I would love to invite you to lunch and talk about future projects. This is my personal account, please don't share it.

The next day the group chat was exploding with messages asking you for details about your hot night with the F1 driver, but there was nothing to tell, it had been all innocent.

The dates started as innocent work meetings but slowly the topics drifted from work to more personal stuff, then the Instagram DMs became more and more frequent, and before you realized you started seeing each other for movie nights and dinner dates. The first kiss happened one night after dinner, he was dropping you off at your flat. He had been weird all night as if something was bothering him, you were worried something was wrong.

"Thanks so much for dinner" You said as he helped you out of his car. "Please let me know when-" He pulled you hard against him placing his hand on your cheek.

"Don't hate me, please" He whispered, and joined your lips shyly.

You kissed him back, it was as natural as all those dates. His soft lips against yours felt amazing.

"I'm sorry" he said out of breath as his forehead rested against yours.

"Don't" You gave a quick peck to his lips.

Just a kiss was shared that night, even when your body was asking for more, and judging by the bulge pressing against your hip, he was craving more too, but neither of you wanted to rush it.

It was just a situationship but it was intense. You kept it down on the low, only your roommate and best friend, and his best friend knew about it. You could see how everyone treated the other "WAGS" and your mental stability wasn't ready for that kind of pressure, especially when you didn't even know what was happening.

He was flying straight back to London after every race, staying over at your house or you going to his, spending as much time together as you could. Movie nights and romantic dinners in either of your places were the usual, but you didn't care about not being outside. His arms around your body, him kissing your forehead, neck, and lips, was better than any date outside, you couldn't keep your hands off each other and didn't want to risk being caught in public.

You were falling, and falling hard. Once you even flew to surprise him at a doubleheader, spending one amazing week with him, living the full F1 experience.

His personal brand had reached a high peak and his management advised him to move to Monaco, it was a good economic decision. He was so excited when he told you about it as he showed you the apartment he had just leased, but all you could think about was what about the "relationship"?

It was the post-sex rush that made him ask you to move with him to Monaco, but it wasn't that easy. You loved your job, and you had worked so hard to get to the position you had now, leaving the country for a situationship wasn't the smartest idea, especially when he wasn't sure about going public or even formalizing. Another suggestion from his team. His Playboy era had proved to be a great marketing strategy, his merch sales had increased the moment he broke up with his last girlfriend, so getting into a relationship was strongly discouraged.

You spoke about it once, but in the end, moving with him or him staying in London was out of the question.

You avoided the topic for the last couple of weeks you were together. He spent his last night in the UK at your place, since his place had been emptied. It was as lovely as every night you had been together, but you couldn't shake away the bitter taste of him leaving and not knowing what would come next,

"We will find a way to make this work, ok?" He whispered against your lips as you said your goodbyes.

"Promise?"

"Yes" he kissed you deeply, biting your lip one last time.

He got in his car and drove off.

You kept in touch, facetime was your best friend for a few weeks, but slowly the communication started to lessen. He had a lot of work with Quadrant and the races, and you received an offer to lead the company's office in Italy which kept you crazy busy.

You moved to Italy a couple months after he had left for Monaco. Thank God, your best friend found a way to move with you thanks to her remote work, keeping you company whenever you needed to vent about your situationship. Around that time you were messaging just a couple times every couple of weeks.

Slowly whatever you had faded away, and even when you still had feelings for him, you did your best to keep yourself busy trying to bury whatever you felt under tons of work and meaningless dates.

But now, his message pulled all those feelings back up, and they were as strong as they were a year ago.

Y/USERNAME Y/workadress, on Friday I'm off at 5

LvNg4Lf Great, see you on Friday

Thank God, Ana spent the rest of the week at her boyfriend's, when she texted you asking about Lando you just replied "I'm not sure yet", she had such a strong mom vibe she would've rushed home just to talk to you about it, ruining Leo's anniversary plans.

"Y/n, somebody's waiting for you in the lobby" one of your workmates said as she entered the meeting room, a cheeky grin on her face.

"Thanks, Lis" You gattered your things nervously.

"Who's the cutie?"

"An old friend" you said escaping her interrogation, you were anxious enough to also worry about the office gossiping about your relationships.

The moment the elevator doors opened you recognized him, his back was facing your way, but the curls were unforgettable, and his arms those damn arms.

"Hey" you softly said standing behind him.

"Hi" A big smile on his face as he took you in his arms.

You hugged him back, it was as if no time had passed. He was bigger, stronger, and his back was broader, but still, your body fitted inside his embrace like a glove, and his scent, you had missed it so much.

He took your bag and jacket as he walked you to his car. Inside he handed you his phone.

"What?" You asked confused, he was usually the designated DJ.

"Your address"

"Why?"

"You need to pack for the weekend"

"What? I thought we were just having dinner"

"Do you trust me?" he stared at you making your heart rush.

"Calm down, Aladdin"

His particular laugh melted your heart, you hadn't realized how much you missed that sound.

You typed your address and started the route.

You shared small talk, he asked you about your day at work and you asked about his trip there.

"Go, I will wait here, I need to make a couple calls" He opened the door and offered his hand to help you out.

"What should I pack for?"

"Whatever you might need for a weekend, if anything is missing we can buy it, now go" He kissed your forehead and took out his phone as you rushed up to your apartment.

You took a quick shower, shaved, and trimmed where it was needed, not that you were expecting anything to happen, as far as you knew this was all friendly, but you didn't want to get caught offward.

"Holly shit, you're not going to believe who I saw-" Ana barged into your room as you were searching for a dress in your closet.

"-what are you doing?" She asked approaching the suitcase on your bed. You just turned and gave a nervous smile. "He invited you to have dinner, and you weren't even sure you were going, now you're packing?"

"Well..."

"Why are you packing? Are you escaping, want to jump in my car's trunk?"

"I'm not escaping, I'm not sure, he just told me to pack for the weekend"

"What if he's kidnapping you to take you to Monaco, should I call the police?"

"I'm not going to Monaco!"

"Not yet" A hint of sadness in her voice.

"I'm not, I swear, we're just doing something that I'm not sure what it is, but I'm not moving anywhere."

"Well, I guess the only thing we're sure about is that sex is part of the plan" She said pulling out the Victoria's Secret set you had packed.

"You never know" you answered with a cheeky smile.

You finished packing and rushed to the door.

"Please take care, be careful, and call me if you need anything, I will send the Italian troops your way immediately"

"Thanks, I will keep you posted" You hugged her and rushed downstairs, Lando placed your bag on the back of his truck and started driving without a map.

"Are you telling me where are we going?" You interrupted the conversation.

"Nope" A proud grin on his face.

"Are we going to Monaco?" You asked shyly.

"Do you want to go to Monaco?" He turned to look at you, some seriousness on his face.

"I'm just asking" You turned your blushing cheeks towards the passenger window.

You kept a casual conversation, the nerves were fading away but then he placed his hand on your thigh, and your breath hitched, it was a normal gesture when you were together, but now it felt like your leg was on fire.

A little over two hours later you were driving on a dirt road toward a lit-up old-style chalet.

He took both your bags, placed the code on the pad at the door and a beautiful living room appeared. It was one of those fairytale-like chalets.

"Follow me" He walked up some stairs to the only room in the house.

"One room?"

"I didn't think you would mind us sharing a bed. If you don't feel like it, I can sleep on the sofa" A hint of shame in his voice.

"No!" you said a little too loud. "I mean, I just... this is all just a surprise, that's it" You walked towards the bed and sat on it. He placed the bags next to the closet and walked towards you, he sneaked between your legs and you hugged him by the waist as his hands wrapped around your shoulders.

"Want to explore before it gets darker?" He kissed your hair.

"Sure" You followed him through the back door.

It was such a beautiful place, a jacuzzi was just outside the living room door, facing the Italian countryside. Not a single sign of other people for miles and miles.

He took your hand, intertwining your fingers as you walked through the dimly lit path. The conversation was about it all, your new job, the F1 season so far, just like old times.

Night fell and you walked back to the chalet, the full moon giving you enough light not to need the phone flashlight.

You prepared dinner and sat in the living room to watch a movie. After you finished eating you found yourself leaning against his chest, Aladdin playing on the flat screen as his fingers softly played with your hair, and yours traced the veins on his arm around your waist. A knot in your throat, you missed this so much.

As Aladdin was kissing Princess Jazmine after defeating Jafar his finger found your chin, turning it softly towards him. You stared deep into his eyes, your breath hitched when his tongue traced his lips. You moved your hand to cup his cheek and pulled him to join your lips. The kiss was soft, but filled with emotion.

His tongue entered your mouth as you turned your body to face him completely. His hands found your thighs guiding you to straddle him.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked breaking the kiss, as much as he was dying to be with you he wanted to make sure you were ok.

"Yes" you answered leaving a soft kiss on his nose.

That was all he needed to hear and in no time you were naked, his lips traveling to the places he missed the most. The moment he entered you it was as if you were two pieces from the same puzzle.

Magical, wasn't enough to describe the weekend. You had sex in every single surface of that chalet as if you were trying to make up for lost time. Even the sex in the jacuzzi was amazing, you had heard a ton of stories discouraging you from doing it in the water but it had been one of the best experiences in your life.

It was the early hours of Sunday, and you had to leave the chalet that afternoon. Your head on Lando's chest as his fingers traced figures on your back. A sudden feeling of sadness took over your body. A couple tears escaped your eyes.

"Y/n?" Lando took your face when he felt a warm tear on his chest and you sobbed silently.

"I'm ok" You said trying to sound normal.

"Come here" He sat up, his back against the headboard and he pulled you to straddle him, this time it wasn't sexual, he just needed you close. His face showed he was as unsure as you were, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"I know" he softly said as you laid your head on his chest and finally let the tears fall freely.

When the tears had eased you lifted your head back. Seeing your red eyes and nose broke his heart.

"You're thinking the same, right?" You lowly asked as you saw his eyes starting to water.

"Complicated?" his voice hoarsed from the tears he was holding back.

"Yes"

"You seem happy in Italy"

"You seem happy in Monaco"

He nodded and you leaned your head back on his chest as fresh tears fell from your eyes.

"Having you by my side would make me happier" he softly said as his fingers played with your hair.

"Same"

You knew that for now, this was impossible. As much as you loved being with him, you loved your work, your life in Italy was amazing and you couldn't ask him to do something you weren't willing to do yourself. Maybe you didn't love him as much as you thought, but why was this hurting so much? You could feel your heart breaking into a million pieces as his chest moved in a way that let you know he was crying too.

"I'm sorry" He whispered

"Don't, it was amazing, it's just...life"

"This fucking life"

"Ok" you took a deep breath and whipped your cheeks. "We still have a few hours, let's make the most of them"

He smiled, his eyes still shining from the tears, which made you sigh. "But first" He kissed your neck. "One more?" he pulled you down grinding your body against his growing bulge.

"Let's see if we can fit two" You smiled against his lips and hugged his neck.

After leaving the chalet you stopped by a small trattoria, eating slowly, enjoying every bite. Back on the road he was driving the speed limit, trying to spend the most time together.

He parked next to your car.

"I'll help you with it" He said as he stopped you from taking your bag.

"It's ok" You tried to reach for it.

"I insist" he took a step back.

"Lan, I can do it, please" You looked up at him, your eyes watery again.

"But..."

"Thanks for this, it was magical, but I think it's time" You tried to hold back the tears, he was doing the same. He didn't say a word but handed you your suitcase.

You hugged him hard. He breathed in your scent, trying to lock it in his memory and you did the same with his.

The garage door opening interrupted the moment.

He whipped your tears and you did the same with his.

He kissed your lips softly, you knew the three words he was holding back because you were holding them back too.

"Good luck next weekend"

"Thanks, good luck at work"

You said goodbye as if you were seeing each other soon just to make it less painful, but the truth was completely different.

He watched you walk towards the elevator. you saw a faint smile on his face as the door closed.

The moment your appartment door closed Ana rushed to you, hugging you hard when she saw the heavy tears falling from your eyes.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

[wlwprker]

your little things- tom!peter parker x reader

a/n: I have a lot of old stuff that was posted on my old Tumblr, and this was one of them :)

warnings: brief mentions of anxiety, not proofread a lot so I apologize for grammar or spelling mistakes! italics indicate a flashback.

w/c: 1,847

-Peter Parker-

Peter was aware that you didn't think he noticed or paid attention to the little things that you do but he does, he always pays attention to you.

He notices the way that you love to sit by the window reading a book when it rains because the sound of the rain hitting the window makes you feel calm. He admires how you can get so caught up in your books and how your face lights up with different emotions depending on what was happening in the books you always got lost in.

Your little things that make you so wonderful, he notices them all and he loves them all because they're what makes you so beautiful and he loves everything about you.

Peter loves to look at you and he adores all of your little things, especially the ones that you're insecure about but he doesn't know why because everything you do is beautiful to him.

He picks up on things that you didn't even know he knew about or took note of. He knows when you're anxious because of the way you always bounce your legs repeatedly and how you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. He notices it all. Peter notices that when you're incredibly anxious, you draw patterns on yourself to attempt to calm yourself down, but it doesn't always work, which makes you more anxious.

When he senses that you're having one of your really rougher days, he is there to help you because Peter loves and supports you... Always.

Today you were having a hard day, nothing seemed to be making you feel better. Peter knew instantly because when he took peaks at you every so often, he saw the way that you couldn't stop bouncing your legs and the fact that your hair had been messed up from the number of times that you pulled at it in frustration. He takes note of a simple fact: you cannot sit still. Peter worries for your poor lips that you've bitten down on many times throughout the night.

Peter wasn't even doing anything productive if he's being honest, he was just writing out a study guide for a test that wasn't for another 3 weeks. He put his pencil down and walked over to you and sat down on his bed next to you, you were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn't even know he left his desk. He softly touched your thigh to remind you of his presence because he knew that you were a million miles away.

"Oh! I'm sorry Peter, did I interrupt your work?" Peter's heart stung with pain as he heard the hurt in your voice because you were genuinely worried that you distracted Peter from his work. You turned your head slowly to look at him and his heart swelled because every time that you look at him, it's as if he's looking at you for the first time. Peter took your shaky hands in his and intertwined your fingers with his and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"I don't care about my work; I care about you. What's got you so anxious today, sweetie?" Peter asked while he rubbed comforting circles on the back of your hand, your hands had stopped shaking. He watched as you sighed deeply and laid your head down in his lap.

"There's just so much happening and it's happening so fast, it's nothing particular, it's just well...everything. I don't know but it's breaking me down, Pete." He visibly frowns when he could hear the genuine suffering in your voice, and he knows how much it sucks to be anxious. He took the hair-tie that was practically falling out anyways and let your hair fall down onto his lap.

"Baby, I'm so sorry that you're dealing with this, but you don't have to deal with this alone." Peter played with your hair, and he could physically feel that your rapid heartbeat was returning back to its normal pace, he knows how the simplest gestures can ease your anxiety. Peter used his free hand to draw patterns on your arms because he knows how you try to do that when you want to relax.

Peter easily sensed that you are starting to finally relax, and he can feel the way your entire body is visibly softening just by the touches from your favorite person, Peter Parker.

Peter always knows how to make you feel safe, he's made mental notes of things he does that makes you feel safe, loved and at peace.

You love random displays of affection, which is completely fine with Peter because he loves to be affectionate with you. You love when he is affectionate with you because it reminds you of how lucky you are to have such a lovely person in your life.

You'd never admit it to him but he knows how much you love the pet names and compliments he gives you so he will compliment you any and every chance that he can.

Peter knows how you're not very open to talking about your feelings, but he always feels a sense of pride and love when he realizes that despite you not being open to share your feelings, he's made you feel safe and comfortable enough to share those parts of yourself with him.

Peter always loved to give you small kisses here and there just to let you know he appreciates you, but he had no idea how much those meant to you. He smiles to himself as he remembers the day that you told him how much you like his small kisses and ever since that day, he gives you random kisses throughout the day...every.single.day.

Peter was coming home from his nightly patrolling duties and he climbed through the window that led into your room, you always left the window open for him, he'd always have a place here. Peter watched in adoration as he caught the sight of you lying in your bed, with glasses perched on top of your head and a book lying face down on your stomach as you slept peacefully. He quietly removed your glasses from the top of your head and marked your place in your book (he knew how mad you'd be if he didn't) and placed them both carefully on the bedside table. He removed his suit, took a shower and changed into the spare clothes he left at your place and calmly climbed into the bed next to you.

You were a very light sleeper so no matter how hard he tried to be quiet, you were very aware of his presence. "Peter? Is that you?" He almost laughed at the sound of your sleepy voice. He moved a piece of hair away from your face and smiled to himself at the sight of your half-closed eyes and eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

God, you are absolutely gorgeous.

"Shh, love, it's okay. Go back to sleep." Peter whispered as he watched you drift back to sleep and he pulled you closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his body and he held you close. Peter kissed your forehead and whispered goodnight into your ear and you're a light sleeper so you stirred in your sleep.

"Mmm. I like when you do that, Pete". You mumbled in your sleep-like haze.

If it was anybody else, they would not even knew that you said anything but Peter being who he was and hanging onto every word you said, he heard you. Peter knew you were very sleepy and had very little energy to fight him back which was the perfect chance for Peter to use this to his advantage.

"Do what, pretty girl?" Peter watched as you hid your face in his chest and he laughed, he knew what he was doing, it was funny though because you are just too cute to not mess with. "Don't hide from me!" You begrudgingly lifted your face from his chest and snuggled closer to him.

"I like when you give me random kisses like that, it makes me feel loved and really happy." You sighed happily and began drifting off into the world of dreams.

"Oh how I love you, Y/n." Peter confessed for the first time. The corners of your lips twitched upwards as you started to feel sleep overtake you for the millionth time that night.

"I love you too, Peter." Peter placed a gentle kiss to your hairline, and he fell asleep.

You love kissing Peter; you really do but Peter discovered that you also love other kinds of things that he does to show you how much he adores you. To other people, it may seem small but to you, it was everything which meant that Peter continued to do them. You love when Peter locks his pinky finger with yours and places a soft kiss to your pinky, it's such a mundane gesture but it reminds you of how safe you feel with Peter, and he does it with so much love and devotion that you can't help but fall even harder for the brown eyed boy.

Peter can go on and on about all the things he loves about you. Whenever someone asks him if he has a favorite little thing that you do, his answer is always the same.

His favorite little thing that you do is loving him.

Peter never really had a way with words, when he really cared for someone, he would get starstruck and the words would escape him. He always felt bad about it because he has so much love to give and he wants to share it, but the words never left his lips, he would stutter because his emotions clouded his senses, and the words would dissolve into thin air. You changed that for him. When people would ask him what being loved by you is like, the words poured out of him easily as if it was as easy as breathing, he didn't have to think too hard.

Your love is so warm and comforting and being loved by you is like falling asleep next to a fireplace, on a freezing winter day while drinking a cup of hot chocolate. The feeling of your love is so special, he could talk forever about it but he knows that there aren't enough words in the entire universe to fully express how much you mean to him.

You would so call him super cheesy and a romantic, but he means it. He only became all mushy and lovey dovey because of you.

It's the feeling of his knees going weak as he locks eyes with you from across the room. It's the feeling of safety when he holds you close to him in bed at night.

That is what it's like to be loved by you.

The little things you do remind him of what being loved feels like and maybe one day, there will be a ring on your finger, a forever one.

[valentine-writes]

hii!! i was wondering if you could write headcanons for like the main four spider-kids (miles, gwen, pavitr and hobie) with a reader who like smacks people when they laugh really hard? preferably w/ a reader thats a spider-person but its up to you! :3

aggressive affection!

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, dude used once in a gender neutral way, mentions of bruising and minor injuries (but nothing crazy), spider-person reader, reader forgetting that being a spider-person makes them stronger,,, um. (°ー°〃) oops!!! 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. gwen stacy, hobie brown/spider-punk, miles morales, and pavitr prabhakar

author's note: YES I CAN YES I CAN!! this prompt iz so funny AUWWUDH I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE!!! つ﹏⊂ also super excited 2 get to write more of them becuz AWUDGWAAHWGHWAGUAGH I LOVE THESE CHARACTERZ SMM,,, also excuse me if there's more repetition or typos than usual,,, im eepy ( つ᷄ ‸･ )

GWEN STACY headcanons

▸ the first one to fall victim to your little habit. she doesn't mind in the slightest, mainly because she's generally pretty welcome to friendly touches- even if it is slightly more aggressive than she had expected. frankly, you could've literally bitten her and she probably would've reacted the same.

she's a little awkward about it at first, pausing mid laughter as you deliver playful hits to her shoulder and bicep. she playfully shoves you away at first, like, "haha– what– what are you doing–" but quickly warms up to it

▸ here's the thing though. she 100% will do it back. if you're both joking around and losing it over something, you end up hitting each other through laughter. and it'll INTENSIFY. at some points, everyone's wondering if you two are actually beefing or not ur not. itz the way u show affection 2 one another,,, in the strangest manner

when you're assigned on missions with her, you usually end up chatting– and then you find something hilarious to giggle abt and everything goes off the rails

y'all will return to HQ bruised asf like "nah man the anomaly didn't even touch us."

jessica and miguel DEF pick up the fact y'all goof off and beat each other up before even locating the anomaly HWJEJNDNE

unfortunately– gwen is slowly paired less with you on missions becuz of this. they can't have you distracting one another a girl can never have fun fr </3

nothing that some good behaviour can't fix! just try not to give each other a complete smackdown while on duty and you'll be paired together again in no time! hopefully...

▸ both you and gwen forget that being spider-people involves super strength. and though you're both used to taking a blow or two, it stands plain and obvious that the two of you can get carried away. gwen especially. she's just a little rough sometimes– not like she means to be.

sometimes, the dull ache from the bruises she left leave you wondering if you're both a little too funny for your own good. at least she makes sure to take care of it and hold back,, when she can.

when it's your turn to get carried away, she sees your eyes widen as you splutter a million apologies to her. but every time you deliver one hit too hard, she insists it never hurts much as you think.

"dude, it's okay. you can chill out." gwen reassures. "besides, i'm built tougher than that."

she flashes a grin at you, and it's almost convincing. like she didn't even feel a thing. you know better though– gwen definitely has days where she's more sore than she'd like to be because of you. not like she'd ever admit. she likes the random play fights between the two of you.

though, you will admit that the amount of trips to the infirmary in search of ice packs is getting just the teeniest bit absurd. people are starting to ask questions at HQ-- which is fine. the frozen bag of peas gwen offers to you for your injuries works just as good as any ice pack ...it's been sitting in the bottom of her freezer for God Knows How Long but you don't need to know that

HOBIE BROWN headcanons:

▸ you see how this guy interacts with people???

hobie's used to friendly touches, and initiates physical contact without overthinking it. that little shoulder shake he does w/ miles makes me smile everytime i heart hobie. ALSO AAUWHEHWH LEBRON AND DWAYNE'S HANDSHAKE BEING HOBIE'S AND PAV'S?? I ADORE.

you really think something as little as a few friendly punches and hits bothers hobie "forehead-kissing-the-homies-goodnight" brown??? /lh + /hj but man platonic physical affection hobie. like. hear me on this one.

▸ he's 100% cool with it– actually initiated it before you did. nothing crazy, a light smack on your back or arm as he laughed with

eventually, while joking around with you, realized you had the same habit

you end up hitting each other quite a bit– but he's not as accidentally aggressive as gwen is. laughing with hobie won't get you hospitalized, he's cognizant enough with his strength to know how much to hold back.

▸ then again, there are times where you get carried away. hobie's quick to shake it off, not feeling the effect of the hit until later– if you notice and apologize, he'll just shake his head and shrug

"nah, nah– it's fine." he insists, chuckling a bit as he rubs the spot where you smacked him. "there's been worse."

and yes, objectively, you know that's true– but you both fight villains in your everyday life. of course there's going to be worse than just a hit too hard. he won't accept an ice pack– but will joke that you could just kiss it better instead

that earns a groan from you, smacking him again in the arm for good measure as he snickers

MILES MORALES headcanons:

▸ doesn't hate it!! not against it!!! find it surprising at first. he didn't expect a playful punch to his arm in response to his little joke, but watching as you giggled uncontrollably, hitting him lightly– he decided that he didn't mind too much

he knows you don't mean any harm, so it's cool with him! he's rolling with the punches literally every time you two are losing it

▸ if you land a smack on him that ends up being a little too hard, he'll definitely try to play it off awkwardly, rubbing it and nervously laughing when you ask if he's okay

"oh sh–" you promptly stop, your smile fading as concern floods your face. he winced slightly at your last hit and it was much to obvious to ignore. "you good, miles? i am so sorry–"

"me? yeah, yeah– it's cool!" he replies dismissively, giving you the lightest punch back. miles laughs nervously at your completely unconvinced expression.

"bro. cmon. be real."

"that? hah– nahh. barely felt it." spoilers!!! he felt it

you keep it in mind to dial it back a bit when with miles, because he barely hits back and hates admitting when it actually hurts.

you'll get an occasional "ow–" with a little chuckle, but he refuses to acknowledge that you might be a bit too rough. he jus doesn't wanna hurt feelings man :(

you're his friend who gets a little too carried away sometimes– and that's fine!!! besides, he can't let gwen and hobie have all the fun.

"you holding back on me?" he asks you, noticing your hits have gotten weaker.

"what's it to you?"

"i can handle it. 's fine!! really!" miles says. there's a beat of silence as you stare at him incredulously.

"and you didn't bruise last time?." you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah."

"...say swear."

miles raises his hands, sighing. "ok, look–" HE WANTZ 2 ROUGHHOUSE W/ HIS FRIEND TOO OK (*ﾉε｀*) besides. u and gwen and hobie seem to have so much fun w/ it,,

▸ because of his stubbornness, you oblige, pulling your punches just a little less when having a little laughing fit with him.

as a result, miles develops a habit deflecting your hits while absolutely losing it. gently shoving your hands away as you smack him, both of you doubling over laughter

miles will say sumn he knows you'll find a lil too funny and just,,, *cue continuous hitting and blocking as he predicts literally Every Movement you make* he's literally learned to parry becuz of u HAJWBDKDNEN

PAVITR PRABHAKAR headcanons:

▸ the type to pretend to beat up his friends while making punching noises when he's bored

he's just lightly tapping u with his knuckles going "pow– pow pow– bam–" under his breath HANWJENDN IM SORRY I FIND THIS FUNNY. i also. do this. (｡･･｡).

and ur like "...uh. ok."

he's def not opposed to it!! when he has the energy, he's all for it!!! pavitr's playfully hitting, shoving you away, gasping for air as the two of you giggle over something that's only really funny to the two of you.

he's pretty energetic most of the time, and it manifests as you "brawl" with each other as you laugh over some stupid joke.

▸ when you hit him a little too hard, most of the time, he doesn't even notice until the aftermath manifests as a bruise or two on his arms– but even then he doesn't care.

however,,, there are occasions where he initiates it, laughing and smacking you– and when you're laughing with him, raising your hand to hit back, he'll gasp dramatically, recoil instantly and get all dramatic about it i'm projecting all the things i do onto pav i bet u cant tell /sarc

pav the minute you decide to try and get him back– bar for bar, word for word:

he's just a little guy,, a little guyy,,, nooo,,, itz also his birthday,, he's a little birthday boy– HWJWBDN SORRY THIS IS SO UNSERIOUS

this is a bit that he drags on FOREVERRR like itz the funniest thing in the world

▸ ALL of his hits are a little too hard. he does the fake beat up thing a lot but when you two are roughhousing, you're the one reminding him to chill out through stifled laughs

he'll immediately soften the blows quickly at your request, knowing it's probably best for you to remain as uninjured as possible when not doing mission. can't have your shit rocked before you even face a villain!!! his hits end up somewhere between hobie's and gwen's– an almost perfect middle (*´꒳`*)

almost.

occasionally, he'll literally just... take the hits. not like miles where he's deflecting. he's jus standing there laughing while you smack him. which is a concerning sight for anyone who isn't used to your antics!!!

this happened in hq once and peter b, who happened to be walking by, lowkey thought you were straight up attacking pav

upon hearing the two of you giggling though, he figured that he wasn't witnessing an act of violence and didn't have to step in