#down a path of darkness of sorts. fun times

[sil3ntm0thart]

[jarofstyles]

Bite

Hello my friends! Here is a vamprry one shot. It’s a darker one but I hope you guys will like it. 🎃

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WC- 6.4k

Warnings- vampire h, blood play, he kinda kidnaps her tbh, dark h, soulmates, mask kink if you squint, oral (f receiving) smut, degrading, h is a vampire so their morals are not human-like you know

Her blood pressure was high. She was sure of it.

Going to a haunted house wasn’t her idea, nor was it her ideal for the weekend of actual Halloween, but her people pleasing ways had gotten her once again. The same with wearing a fucking dress, because they’d decided to go bar hopping afterwards. Not the brightest idea at all, but she wanted to stick it through.

It seemed to be going well enough until they got separated.

She had somewhat of an idea that someone was watching her. She just didn’t know how correct she was- or how much danger she was in. Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched her get separated from the group.

Fate had chosen his fun for the night.

He quickly disappeared into the shadows, his lip quirked under the mask. This was his favorite time of year. He knew these halls like the back of his hand, and he knew exactly where she'd end up. He followed her as she tried to navigate her way back, unaware she had no hope there was no real way back, his footsteps silent on the creaky floorboards. It was thrilling, the muffled screams from other rooms fading to let him hear her breathing, fast and panicked. Little heartbeat pounding away at her chest. She was so alive, and it thrilled him.

She didn’t have a clue.

The dim of the flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper as she hurried down the narrow, winding corridor, her heeled boots clicking nervously on the worn wooden floor. Her breath hitched in her throat as she heard a faint, raspy whisper carry through the heavy silence, the air thick with the scent of dust and fake fog.

“Why are you running, pretty girl?” The rasping voice had her turning around, only to be met with empty space. there was no one there. “What’s got you spooked?”

Her heart thundered as she clutched her chest, turning slightly as the voice seemed to move. Like it was circling her, almost. It was suddenly that the lights went out, making her freeze in fear.

What sort of haunted house was this? And could she get a refund?

Harry grinned wickedly as he watched her from the shadows. He had missed this. The thrill of it all soothing an itch he usually couldn’t scratch. Though his usual victims weren’t quite as pretty as her, he noted. They didn’t smell as good either. He ducked into a small, concealed alcove as she whirled around, her panicked breath misting in the sudden darkness.

She could hear the faint drip-drip-drip of water echoing through the darkness, and the distant sound of maniacal laughter from another room. But closer, much closer, she could swear she heard breathing. Slow, steady, and menacing. Her own breath caught in her throat as she tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, her eyes straining to pierce the inky blackness.

“Who’s there?” She whispered into the quiet. It dawned on her that there was no party following behind her. She didn’t hear the footsteps, she hadn’t realized she’d veered off course, but she was still in the haunt. This had to be part of it- right? “I- I’m sorry I got off the path. If you turn up the lights I’ll just go back to my friends.��

The breathing paused for a moment, and then it started up again, louder this time. It was definitely coming from right next to her. She could feel the presence of something, or someone, but she couldn't see a thing. Couldn’t feel any body heat. The only thing she could feel were the vibrations when she heard a low, chilling laughter that sent shivers down her spine. "You're lost..." The voice whispered menacingly in her ear. It was when she could feel the cool breath on her neck that everything in her panicked.

She jumped back, her heart racing as she stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet in the process. She landed hard on the floor, her dress riding up to reveal her thighs. She heard the creaking of floorboards as whatever was there moved closer to her, its footsteps echoing in the darkness. "You shouldn't have come here... alone..." The voice hissed at her. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“I didn’t mean to! I got separated from my group. I didn’t mean to go off the path.” Her voice was weak and warbled as she felt the sting in her elbow from the fall. “Just let me out and I’ll be on my way.”

The figure loomed over her, its presence oppressive and menacing. "But where's the fun in that?" It growled. She could hear the rustling of fabric, and then a gloved hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet. She struggled, her heels clicking against the floor as she tried to break free, but the grip was too strong. "You're not going anywhere."

He pulled her into the concealed alcove, her struggles turning into whimpers as he backed her into the wall. His gloved hands roamed her face, gripping her roughly as he grinned wickedly behind his mask. "You’re a pretty one aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Such a treat. Let’s play.” He reached out and caressed her cheek gently, a stark contrast to the other hand’s rough grip on her jaw as his thumb brushed over her bottom lip.

"Open your mouth." he commanded, his voice low and menacing. She hesitated, her eyes wide with fear- but he didn’t give. He tightened his grip on her jaw, his fingers pressing into her cheeks. "I said, open your mouth." he repeated, his voice leaving no room for back talk. Reluctantly, she parted her lips, her teeth chattering slightly. He grinned deviously and slowly slipped the glove off and his thumb into her mouth. "Suck. It’s for your own good.”

She hesitated again, but the menacing growl from behind the mask urged her on. She wrapped her lips around his cool thumb, sucking hesitantly at first, but growing bolder as he watched her with a dark, intense gaze. It wasn’t like she could see him, but there was no way she couldn’t feel his stare on him. The metallic taste was unfamiliar to her, but it was what would save her. His grin widened as he slid his thumb in and out of her mouth, mimicking a motion that made her blush furiously even in the darkness. "Lovely girl, finally listening to instruction." He praised, his voice hoarse. "Now, bite down. This is going to hurt, but it’ll feel good afterwards.”

The girl had no idea what he meant until she heard the mask slipping off his face and her head was tilted to the side. She barely had a second to think before she felt it. The sharp bite down on her throat, burning at the site as she let out a strangled scream. The man- or creature- let out a satisfied groan as he sucked at her throat, pulling what had to be blood from her. All her instincts told her to run, but she couldn’t. She was frozen.

He drank with deep pulls, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her upright as colorful spots danced before her eyes, even in the dark. She felt lightheaded, her limbs growing heavy and sluggish. She could hear the pounding of her own heart, growing slower and softer with each passing second, the sounds of his sucking drowning it out.

The soft plush of pleasure started to hint over her, the pain fading into the fuzziness of warmth in her tummy and between her thighs. Just as darkness began to claim her vision, he withdrew, licking his lips as he admired the two puncture wounds on her neck. "You’ve got lovely blood.” He murmured. “So sweet. Best I’ve had all season.”

He leaned in close, his voice a soft whisper in her ear as he held her up. "I should have you for the full meal... but I have other plans for you." With that, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her deeper into the house, her limp body resting against his chest. She was tired, her mind fuzzy from the blood loss, but she let out a soft whimper as he squeezed her lightly to his body. “I usually finish my meals and let them run off, but I think you’re a bit too good to toss.”

Part of her questioned if she was awake right now as he carried her through because nothing made sense. When her eyes opened again, it was different. The house changed. No longer was it the decrepit source of the haunted house, but it was restored. Like it had shifted all in front of her eyes. She wasn’t sure what was real and what was fake right now, if this was even reality, but it didn’t make any sense. The cobwebs were gone. The smell was lavish, rich, like incense. The haul was lined with velvet curtained windows and hand painted oil art, none of the flashing lights or fake fog to be seen.

What the hell was this? And what was he?

He carried her into a grand bedroom, the four poster bed draped in black silk. It was nothing like her own and she wanted to fight him, ask him what the fuck was happening, but she had no energy to do it. He had taken too much from her.

The monster laid her down gently, smoothing her hair away from her face as he admired her pallid complexion. "You'll wake up tomorrow, thirsty and changed. But don’t worry, I’ll be here for you.” He leaned over her, his ungloved, chilled finger roaming over her cheek as he caressed her. "I’ll be the only one you crave.”

——

The sun streamed through the open curtains, casting a warm golden light over the room. The girl stirred on top of the duvet, her arms reaching out to stretch before she realized she wasn't in her own bed. Her body was stiff, a throb in her joints as she let out a little whimper at the feeling in her body. Everything felt heavy still. Slow. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes as she took in the opulent room- one she didn’t quite recognize at first. There wasn’t much time for her to go over who’s room it was, or why she was there though, because she felt a twinge in her neck as she tried to move her head. That's when she noticed the feeling. The thirst. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, a burning, aching need that demanded to be quenched. There wasn’t any sort of suggestion about it, it was a need.

Her throat burned. It was a hollow aching in her stomach, the stinging of her throat, her hand reaching up to cover it as she flinched. Pulling it back she looked at the ring snugly fastened to her ring finger, a red gem with a gold band. It wasn’t one she had- or was it?

Her memory was hazy. She needed something, someone, but she didn’t know what it was.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door creaked open and in strolled a man, one that seemed familiar in the way that unsettled her, a small glass of crimson liquid in hand. He was sans mask, his dark hair disheveled as he grinned at her. Bright white teeth gleamed at her as he stood in front of her, smile softening as he clicked his tongue. Something about his smile was off putting, but she couldn’t look away. "Ah, you’re up. Good. I was beginning to think I’d given you too much.” He held out the glass to her. “Drink."

The girl's eyes widened as she stared at the glass, her parched throat aching with desperation. She reached out, her hand shaking as she took the glass from him. The liquid inside was a deep, rich red, almost burgundy in color and didn’t look like something safe for human consumption as she swirled it to see it much thicker than anything she usually drank, but her body was acting on its own. She brought it to her lips, the cool glass feeling soothing against her dry skin. As she drank, she felt the liquid slide down her throat, the warmth a soothing kind instead of the pain, spreading through her body and quelling the burning ache.

She probably should have thought twice about taking it from the stranger, but she didn’t. All she cared about was getting rid of the pain, getting more of the liquid down her throat so it didn’t sting any longer. The whimper that left her lips was pathetic as he pulled the glass away, his hand reaching out to thumb the droplet that had fallen down her chin back up and into her mouth. There wasn’t hesitation as he pushed the digit in, her hand grabbing his wrist and sucking the remaining drop from his skin.

He let out a low hum, his free hand reaching out to gently tilt her head back, forcing her to keep his thumb inside her mouth. "You're so thirsty, aren't you?" The man murmured, his thumb moving slightly, pushing against her tongue. "Such a pretty little thing, and so desperate for something to quench your thirst."

The thumb was pulled from her tongue, swiping over her bottom lip as he towered over her. She had no idea what the hell it was, what was happening, but her body trusted him and craved more of whatever he’d just given her. “More.” She croaked, lightly digging her nails into his skin. “Please, I need more of it.”

“The newblood desperation isn’t usually this cute. I think I got quite lucky last night, don’t you think?” He chuckled darkly, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek as he leaned in close. "You'll get more, but first... you have to earn it." His thumb pressed against her lips again, pushing them open as he spoke and tapped her bottom teeth. "I have a game for us to play. If you win, I'll give you all the blood you can drink." His voice was a seductive purr, his thumb sliding into her mouth once more.

“I’ll do it.” She whispered instantly. “Anything. I’ll play.” The girl didn’t even know his name, but she wanted to please him, she wanted more of the blood. It didn’t even click with her that it’s what she was drinking. All she knew was that she needed more and she was willing to do anything to get it.

"Excellent. That’s the spirit I like to see." He crooned. "Now, the game is simple. I'll ask you a question, and you have to answer truthfully. If you lie, or hesitate, the game is over and you don't get any more blood." He pulled his thumb out of her mouth, only to replace it with his other finger, gently rubbing against her tongue.

"First question...what's your name?" His eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched her, feeling the soft suckle she gave his digit. She didn’t seem to comprehend that he was truly talking to her, or she didn’t want to pull her mouth from his finger, but that simply wouldn’t do. "Come on, now. No need to be shy. You can speak around my finger, can't you?" He smiled, his voice firm. "Answer me." His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, encouraging her to part her lips and speak.

“Y/N.” She spoke, muffled around his finger. Her eyes were hazy and soft, body warming up from the blood settling in her system and the attentive stare of the man in front of her.

"Good. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He praised, slowly pulling his finger from her mouth as he spoke. He brought the digit to his lips, sucking the remnants of her saliva from it as he grinned at her. "Now, Y/N...do you know where you are? And how you got here?" His eyes were intent on her, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. "Take your time. Think carefully."

She mourned the loss of the soothing she had from sucking, but she felt the hot zip right between her thighs as she watched him clean off his skin from her saliva. There was something about it that made her reach out for him, gently tangling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt as she peered up at him with wider eyes. It was a good question.

Where was she?

“I… I don’t know.” She finally realized she couldn’t quite place it. “Did we hook up or something after the bar?” It wouldn’t be the first time she did something stupid on a night out.

"No, we didn't hook up. That will come later.” It was inevitable. His perfect creation was made for him. The fates had been so kind to him last night, putting her in his path. “We ran into each other at the haunted house. You got lost. Got into some trouble." He gently unraveled her fingers from his shirt, lifting her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. "You don't remember anything else, do you?" His expression was unreadable, but his voice was gentle, coaxing.

“No.” Haunted house? Her mind felt muddy. Like she was wading through quicksand as she tried to navigate the slow thoughts that seemed to be underwater in her brain. It sounded familiar. “I don’t like haunted houses. I probably didn’t want to go. I don’t… I can’t tell why I don’t remember.”

She had no recollection of him feeding off of her, of him finding her lost from her group and choosing her as his meal. She especially had no memory of him telling her why she was here.

"That's alright. You will, in time." He soothed, bringing her hand to rest over his heart. She didn’t notice it wasn’t beating. "For now, just focus on me. You're doing so well, Y/N. I'm very proud of you." His eyes glowed softly with affection as he spoke. "Here, have a little more. You deserve it." He bared his wrist to her once more, the vein pulsing enticingly. "It’s not the same as the other, but I think you’ll like it just the same. Drink."

Her eyes dilated, pupils swelling to consume the new color of warm gold of her irises as she stared at the offered wrist. Her breathing hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly as her hands trembled with anticipation. She reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist as she brought it closer, inhaling deeply to draw in the intoxicating scent of his blood. A soft whimper escaped her as she leaned in, parting her lips to sink her teeth into his flesh.

It was all instinct. She didn’t understand why she was doing it, why she was so relieved to have her teeth in him. His finger pet at her hair as she breathed frantically through her nose, sucking the thick, sweet blood over her tongue with a soft moan. He tasted so good. It was going to be hard to stop.

He let her drink, his other hand cupping her cheek gently as he held her to him. His blood filled her, warming her from the inside out, making her feel alive in a way she never had been before. "That's it, my love. Drink. Take what you need." He whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. His thumb stroked her bottom lip, encouraging her to draw more deeply from his vein.

Her jaw ached as she continued to suckle at him, her lips sealed tightly around his wrist as her tongue fluttered against the wound she'd made, trying to draw more of it onto her tongue. She felt the smooth of his blood sliding down her throat, filling her belly, seeping into her very soul. Her fingers flexed against his wrist, nails digging into his skin as her body shivered.

He carefully unwound her arms from around his wrist, prying her fang-like teeth from his flesh with a low chuckle as she let out a mix of a growled whine from the loss. "Easy now, love. Not too much. I need to keep some strength for myself." He soothed, running his thumb along her bottom lip to catch a droplet of blood that had escaped. "Look at me, Y/N." He commanded softly, waiting until her glazed eyes focused on him before he continued.

"There you are." He murmured approvingly, his own eyes dark with unsated desire. He leaned down and licked the wound on his wrist clean, hissing at the sudden spike of pain before it faded. Pain and pleasure went hand in hand. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" He teased, his voice barely above a whisper. It would be true, if he could still die. He brought his clean wrist up to cup her chin, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "Such a greedy little thing."

She whimpered again, leaning into his touch as her eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feel of his skin against her lips. She could still taste his blood on her tongue, the metallic tang lingering in her mouth and making her want more. When she opened her eyes, they were glowing with a fierce hunger that made him chuckle darkly. "You're insatiable." He whispered, his own desire rising to match hers.

“I don’t….” She stood up, legs slightly wobbly as she faced him. “I don’t know what you did to me, I don’t know where I am, but I want you to stay.” Her hand grabbed his and wrapped his arm around her. The unprecedented need for him to be touching her, it felt just as desperate as the need for blood was. “Why am I feeling like this? I don’t know you.”

His other arm wrapped around her automatically, his large hand splayed across her lower back to support her. Dark eyes searched hers, seeing the genuine confusion in her gaze. He was a stranger to her, and yet her body craved his touch like it craved blood. He brought her flush against him, his other hand cupping her jaw. "Shh, it's alright." He soothed, his voice gentle.

"I'll explain everything, I promise. But for now, just...feel." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a soft, slow kiss that deepened into something more passionate. His hand on her back slid down to her bottom, squeezing possessively as his tongue slid against hers, sharing the taste of his own blood. He felt her relax against him, her body molding to his as her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. “Just know that you belong with me. To me. That’s what you need.”

Yes. This was what she needed. It made no logical sense, she knew, but logic was lost when it came to this. Ever since she had woken up she had been squirming, itching for something, and she realized now with his lips on hers and his hand grabbing at her ass, she knew this had been the missing piece.

“What’s your name?” She panted against his mouth, unsure if he had said it. Her mind was a mix of things and none of it logical.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged as he looked down at her. "Harry." He whispered, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "And you're Y/N." He handed her the reminder her gently, his other hand cupping her ass and pressing her against the growing hardness in his pants. "We're going to be together, Y/N. Forever." He promised, his voice dark with his promise. “I chose you last night.”

Why did that make her feel good?

She didn’t know him, and yet she was preening over the fact that he was promising forever with her. He could be an awful man. She knew nothing of him other than his blood tasted good somehow, he was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen, and she had gone home with him last night. None of it seemed to matter to her rationally. Maybe she’d lost her mind along the way; maybe he’d taken it from her. Regardless, she didn’t want to fight it. It felt wrong to fight it. “Forever?” She whispered, melting into him.

"Forever." He echoed, his voice a low growl that made her hot between her thighs. "I'm going to take care of you, Y/N. I'm going to give you everything you need. Teach you all you need to know. I created you, and I’ll take care of everything you need." He promised, his other hand sliding up her back and into her hair, tangling in the strands as he deepened their kiss.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he held her close. His hand in her hair tightened slightly, tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss further. His other hand never left her ass, squeezing it gently as he pressed her against his hard length. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he looked down at her. "I want to take care of you, Y/N."

She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she parted her lips to his expert kiss. Her fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as she pressed her hips against his, feeling his cock against her belly. When he broke the kiss, she whimpered in protest, her eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. "Please..." she breathed, not even knowing what she was begging for, only that she needed more of him.

Harry's pride swelled at the sight of her, so needy and desperate for him. He loved it. He loved how much she craved him, how much she needed him. The choice to take her, to make her his mate was the correct one. It was in his bones, he knew it the moment he had heard the panicked pitter patter of her heart in the dilapidated facade of the hallway. He leaned down and captured her lips in another deep kiss, letting them linger. "Don’t fret. I'll give you everything you need, Y/N," He promised against her lips. "But first, I need you to sit on my lap."

The creature guided her with his hands on her hips, helping her straddle his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, her skirt riding up to reveal the softness of her thighs to the creature, against what was sure to be any sliver of self preservation. He groaned softly, his hands running over them appreciatively. He had so much to observe and worship with her- this was just the beginning for them. "Now, touch me." The vampire instructed, his voice low and commanding. "Anywhere you want." He watched as she hesitantly reached out, her hands exploring his chest through his shirt, feeling the hard muscles beneath.

He smiled encouragingly at her, his eyes darkening with desire as she grew bolder, her touch making him sigh as she ran her hands over his abs and chest. He could feel her touch through his shirt, her fingers trailing fire wherever they went. "More..." he encouraged, his voice a low growl. He wanted her touch on his bare skin. As if reading his mind, she began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly.

He sat still, letting her undo his shirt, his breath hitching as she revealed his chest. He had always been proud of his physique, and the way she looked at him now, with wonder and admiration in her eyes only made him feel more smug about it. Once the shirt was open, she hesitated, looking up at him with a hint of uncertainty. As cute as it was… That wouldn’t do. He reached up and gently pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the side.

"Touch me."

She reached out, her shaky fingers brushing against his bare chest. He hissed at the touch, his abs tightening as she ran her hands over them, feeling the hard muscles. The girl leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulder as she pressed her lips to his chest, kissing and licking his skin with her lips smearing against the cool skin, falling into the intimacy easier as he held onto her and pushed her dress further up. Harry growled softly, his hands gripping on her hips as he thrust his own upwards at the tongue lathing over the side of his throat, the movement pushing his erection against her core.

Her breathing hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she continued to kiss and lick his skin, her hips grinding down to meet his thrusts. She was so engrossed in the sensations that she didn't notice his hands sliding up her thighs, bunching up her skirt until his fingers brushed against the hem of her underwear. He broke the silence of panting breaths, his voice hoarse. "S’my turn. I'm going to touch you now, Y/N."

She needed it. Her body was yelling at her to submit, to let him touch, because that’s what was necessary. It was a craving. Words echoed in her mind, his voice telling her ‘When you wake up, I’ll be all you crave’ or something like that, but she couldn’t focus on it when she felt his fingers brush her humid cunt.

Her response was a needy whimper, her head falling back to expose her neck as her hips canted forward, giving him better access. He hummed in approval, his fingers slowly sliding under the lace of her underwear to touch her bare flesh. She was so wet, so ready for him. He rubbed her slowly, his touch gentle, coaxing more needy noises from her. "That's it, love. I know what you need. Let me give it to you."

He slipped a finger inside her, her tight warmth clenching around him. The sensation of it made him groan, his head dipping down to nuzzle against her neck, inhaling her sweet scent as he began to move his finger in and out of her slick hole. Her breathing caught, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as she panted his name. "Harry."

"I know, my love. I know. It feels so good, doesn’t it?" The croon was slightly smug, but she didn’t care. It felt too good to have his finger inside of her, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

"More." She begged, her body tensing as he curled his finger upward, finding that sweet spot inside her. He nipped at her neck, his fangs scraping against her skin, making her hips buck against his hand. It felt better than she ever remembered a simple finger inside of her feeling, but it didn’t make much sense. Nothing about this did.

"I'll give you more." His hand stilled for a moment, his fingers sliding down to gather more of her essence before he added another finger, filling her more for a few more thrusts. "But first, let me have a taste."

Y/N yelped in surprise as she was flipped, tossing her right on the mattress she had slept on. There was little time to prepare as he gripped her dress, tearing it in two so easily that she gaped at the strength of him. She knew the dress was slightly cheaper- she was on a budget, sue her!- but how could he do that?

The thought had to go on the back burner though, watching as he got to her knees between her thighs and spread them open for his viewing pleasure.

The man looked up at her, his eyes devious as he held her thighs open, preventing her from closing them. "Very pretty everywhere, aren’t you?” Leaning down, his tongue flicked out to taste her, dragging through her folds. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as the sensation of him tasting her rushed through her. "Mm.. and you taste so good here, too... Not just your blood. I did a good job in choosing, didn’t I pet?"

He didn’t give her a chance to answer, let alone think about what he was saying fully before he began to lick and suck at her, his tongue delving inside her to taste her nectar. Instead, she moaned, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as she writhed with pleasure. He was relentless, his mouth working her clit with expert precision until she was panting and begging for something. What? She wasn’t sure.

"Please, Harry. I need..." Her brow furrowed as she looked down at him, unable to finish her sentence as his dark eyes looked up at her with his mouth expertly latched onto her, messily slick with her on his lips and chin.

"I know what you need." He snarled against her wet flesh, sending vibrations through her core. “Be quiet and let me give it to you.”

He sucked her into his mouth, his lips wrapping around her clit as he suckled. His tongue lashed against her, his hands gripping her thighs and spreading her wider as he buried his face deeper, licking and nipping at her delicate folds. His tongue plunged deep inside her, withdrawing and surging forward once more, making her keen as she tilted her hips up towards him, trying to write but unable to close her legs with how he held her open for him.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he devoured her, his fingers digging into her soft, warm flesh. She could feel his cool touch on every inch of her, his tongue plunging into her core again and again, his mouth suckling at her swollen pearl. She was helpless against the onslaught of pleasure, her hips bucking against his mouth as she neared the edge. "Harry, please. It's too much..."

He growled against her, the vibrations pushing her even closer to the edge. "No, it's not." The vampire mumbled, his voice muffled against her wet flesh. His arms wrapped around her thighs to hold her down as he continued to feast on her. Golden eyes lifted to meet hers, the possessive look in them making her feel hotter despite the cool touch of his hands. He meant every bit of this. There was no hint of casual about this. The man meant it when he said she was here forever. "You can take more, Y/N. You’ll take what I give you, because you belong to me now. I created you."

His words sent a flash of heat through her, his dominance washing over her like a tidal wave. He continued to eat her out, his tongue and mouth working her relentlessly.

It was simply too much.

The new blood in her veins, the unrelenting pleasure, the claim of ownership, all of it had her losing grip on whatever sense of reality she had left. Moans echoed through the room as she climaxed hard, her entire body shaking with the force of it. He didn't let up, continuing to lick and suck even as she came, prolonging her orgasm until she was a sobbing, shaking mess.

Her sobs turned into screams as another wave of pleasure hit her, his fingers joining his mouth as he pushed three inside her, continuing to pump in and out of her as he drank her release from her core. His tongue lashed against her as he drank her in, his fingers crooking up to find that spot inside her that made her see stars.

With a final lap at her pussy, he pulled back, his face glistening with her essence. His eyes locked onto her thigh, his hand trailing up to caress the tender skin. The creature needed more of her. To solidify their bond even more.

There was no words exchanged as he made the decision for them, spreading her out and finding the spot he wanted, where he could see the pulse still thrumming under her skin. He leaned down, his fangs sinking into her flesh as he drank from her, his hands gripping her thighs possessively. He growled against her, his voice muffled as he took deep pulls, her orgasm sweetened blood flowing into his mouth making him moan and his cock pulse inside of his trousers. She wasn’t a full blood like him. He’d be taking advantage of the human blood flowing through her veins every day for the rest of eternity.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he fed, his touch proprietorial and unyielding. She could feel the pull at her vein, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her, heightening the sensitivity of her over stimulated body. She whimpered, her hands finding his hair and tangling in the silky strands as he drank from her. He didn’t want to pull off, knowing it made her feel good and knowing she tasted this good because of him, but he wanted to enjoy her in the softness of post orgasm and feed haze. Retracting his teeth, he sighed deeply, licking over the bleeding mark on her inner thigh. It was dangerously close to her cunt- something he liked.

A meal with a view.

The vampire had waited this long to take a mate. He deserved to enjoy it.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers as he licked his lips clean. His face was a stark contrast of brutal and beautiful. Blood stained his swollen mouth and chin, a stark crimson against his pale skin. His eyes glinted with a feral light, his pupils dilated with satisfaction and desire. The creature’s dark hair was mussed from her hands running through it, making him look deliciously disheveled.

It was unsettling knowing something so dangerous could be so beautiful.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, little treasure.” He purred, giving her mound a kiss before licking over his bottom lip to chase the taste of her cunt and the blood he had just pulled. “My favorite creation yet. I can’t wait to play with you some more.” His nails dragged down the sensitive skin of her outer thighs, making her squirm in his grip. “I hope I don’t break you too soon.”

[saigethearies]

saige’s terrortober presents…

guardian

when one of the actors at a haunted house attraction gets a little too handsy, megumi doesn’t hesitate to come to your aid.

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

contents/warnings: non consensual groping (not from gumi), megumi and reader are in their early 20s, non-sorcerer!reader, violence, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise, sir kink, protective!megumi, a little hint of feral!megumi

wc: 2.1k

18+ MINORS DNI

“come on, gumi, the next walk-through starts in five minutes!”

your boyfriend sighed as he let you pull him along towards the “haunted house” you had wanted to go to for the past three weeks. he didn’t really see the fun behind seeing a bunch of people pretend to be ghosts and demons when he fought (real) ones for a living, but he digressed. you didn’t share the same extraordinary profession that he did, so these types of attractions were still a spectacle of scary excitement and adrenaline for you. megumi couldn’t deprive you of the festive halloween experiences you sought out, nor would he ever pass up a chance to spend time with you.

thus, that is how he found himself being ushered into a hallway filled with plastic cobwebs, fake blood, and red lights everywhere.

your shoulders were tense, preparing for the inevitable jumpscare of an actor dressed to resemble a ghoul, zombie, or some other sort of terror. intertwining your fingers with the ravenette at your side, the two of you continued down the path.

he knew that the whole purpose of coming here was for you to get a little scare, but megumi still couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze your hand and keep you close. this was all make-believe, he knows better than anyone, but the nerves he could sense radiating off of you were still very much real.

you yelped when an actor jumped out at you from around the corner, special effects makeup covering his face that made it look as if he was covered in gnashes. jolting back, you felt megumi’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you from taking a tumble towards the floor. the actor receded back into the darkness he had been hiding in, leaving you to try and calm your racing heart. megumi remained as blank faced as ever, not even phased in the slightest.

“oh my goodness,” you breathed, regaining your balance.

after a few more frights, the rest of the haunted house became easier to navigate because you knew what to expect. the jumpscares weren’t as alarming anymore, and you even found yourself starting to nervously laugh out of anticipation when you knew one was coming up. your giggles even had a smile coming onto your boyfriend’s face, his chest feeling warm at the sight of you having a good time.

running out of crimson colored hallways to walk down, the two of you were finally nearing the exit of the attraction. the double doors leading outside were left open, and you could see signage pointing towards a pumpkin patch and a corn maze. you gasped in delight.

“look, gumi, we can go pick our pumpkins out!”

you took off, dashing towards the exit in excitement. megumi sighed, figuring he’d catch up to you once the two of you were out of the haunted house.

unbeknownst to you both, there was one more actor hiding in the dark, a final fright for those who bravely made it to the end.

and unfortunately for you, this guy wasn’t only a creep because of his costume.

his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, the actor smirked when he saw you trotting towards his hiding spot. megumi wasn’t in his line of sight yet, so he had no idea he was trailing behind.

‘a pretty little thing all alone in this place?’ the sleaze thought to himself. ‘must be my lucky day.’

you shrieked when the man jumped out at you, mentally cursing yourself for not staying on your guard until the very end. oh well, at least it's all just pretend-

you felt your body freeze when a pair of gloved hands attached themselves to your chest.

“damn, aren’t you fine,” disgustingly warm breath fanned against your ear, and you felt a true scream start to tear its way up your throat only to die on your tongue when the body pressed against your back was ripped away from you.

you watched in shock as megumi shoved your assailant up against the wall, sending his fist into his face once, then twice, then three times. he kept going.

“gumi!” you yelled, trying to pull your boyfriend out of his rage-filled trance. the guy had his hands up in surrender, pleads coming from behind his mask. the shikigami summoner, however, wasn’t letting up.

you finally ran up to him, grabbing onto his elbow before he can deliver another punch. “MEGUMI! i think he got the lesson.”

dark blue eyes blinked before turning to look down at you, a frown on your face. he took note of the tremors in your grip on his arm. megumi mentally kicked himself for not checking on you first. he always sought to improve his character, but whenever he saw your safety threatened he found himself reverting back to the violence that plagued his younger years.

“love,” he began slowly, concern etched into every corner of his face.

you sniffled. “can we just get out of here?”

the sorcerer let the creep fall to the ground, crumbling up like the trash he was. placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, your boyfriend led you away from the haunted house and towards the car.

he thought about telling the site’s management, but you were clearly still shaken, so he decided for your sake he’d get you into the comfort of his audi as soon as possible. he would still report the incident later, however. that man needed to face formal consequence. beating him wasn’t enough to satisfy megumi, who swore to himself every night you fell asleep in his arms and every morning you woke up still wrapped in them that he would keep you safe from anything.

he couldn’t help but feel like he failed at that tonight.

opening the passenger door for you, megumi helped you into your seat before closing you in and getting into the car himself. he immediately turned to you.

“are you alright?”

such a stupid question to ask. of course you weren’t, the misty hue of your eyes confirmed so. he couldn't think of the right words to say in this situation, but when those always failed him, megumi resorted to the method he could always depend on to better express himself: actions.

those always spoke louder, anyways.

he reached a hand out, placing it on your thigh before giving a comforting squeeze. he knew there was a chance you may not want to be touched right now, but if you had a problem with his affections he knew you’d make it known.

a sense of accomplishment washed over him when you placed your hand on top of his. “thank you, gumi.”

“you don’t need to thank me. it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

he almost made a comment about how he should have done a better job, but he held his tongue. right now it was about you. throwing himself a pity party would do nothing to lift your spirits.

“well, i still want to say thank you,” you said, a small smile coming onto your face as you shifted towards him. “my knight in shining armor deserves some gratitude.”

megumi hummed in acceptance, the two of you sitting in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

“i hope i broke his fucking nose.”

that earned a laugh from you, catching him by surprise. “all this time i thought gojo was making up all those stories about you in middle school, but i guess i was wrong.”

“whatever he told you, please forget.”

“you know, i dont think i want to,” you said with a smirk.

now that the distress of the situation had ebbed away some, your mind was able to ponder more on your boyfriend going full fight club on the guy. seeing him get aggressive like that was honestly…very sexy. you couldn’t really appreciate in the moment, but now reminiscing on the wild semblance in his eyes and the sheer force behind his hits had your thighs starting to press together.

megumi noticed the gesture when he felt his fingers become squished between your thighs. he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“do you want something from me?” he asked, the heat of your skin paired with the adrenaline from earlier sending his brain into overdrive.

you pouted your lip out at him. “want you to touch me, ‘gumi.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, sir. need you to make me feel better, please.”

the title made his cock twitch in his pants. the hand that had been resting on your thigh slowly began to glide up your skin, dipping under the hem of your skirt and gingerly tracing the edge of the lace covering your heat.

he saw you start to squirm in your seat, chest puffing out at the effect he had on your body. finally slipping a finger into your panties, his index drew slow circles around your clit.

your head tipped back against the seat, a breathy whine leaving you. the appendage doting on your bud then drifted down into your cunt, his middle finger joining as well. he pumped them at a steady fast, beginning to pick up speed once they started to reach deeper.

“fuck, that feels so good, sir!”

“yeah? ‘m glad, love.”

he could feel your pussy start to soak his fingers, the mess between your legs growing wetter by the second. it would probably get on the seat, but he could worry about that later. right now his sweet girl needed him.

you felt the coil in your gut begin to tighten, megumi’s fingers continuing to fuck you open. he knew how to use them so well, years of summoning his shikigami paying off with the most dexterous fingers you’ve ever had the pleasure of welcoming into your cunt.

thus, imagine your disappointment when you felt his hand detach from your heat.

before you could protest, you felt his arousal-coated fingers prod at your lower lip.

“clean them,” he gently commanded.

you did as you were told, taking the appendages into your mouth as your tongue swept up your own glaze. you released them with a pop.

“such a good girl.”

you let out a small squeak of surprise as you felt megumi easily lift you from your seat and bring you into his lap, chests pressed together.

“good girls deserve to cum on a cock, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, excitement rattling you at the thought of getting filled up.

megumi slid his pants down below his hips, freeing his aching dick from his boxers before pushing your thong to the side.

“sit on it, love.”

lowering yourself onto his cock, you moaned as you felt the familiar stretch. he always stuffed you so perfectly, the heat in your stomach already starting to pool at the sensation.

moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck, megumi placed both of his hands on your hips. he began to move you up and down on his lap as if you were weightless, jackhammering up into your pussy whenever he brought you back down. you practically screamed when you felt how deep he was going.

your boyfriend was panting. god, you always felt so perfect around him. he was never sure what he thought about the idea of fate or soulmates, but everytime you welcomed him into your cunt, he could have sworn you were made for each other.

his lovesick thoughts led his thrusts to become harder, megumi’s sole focus being to ensure you could feel how much you meant to him through every grip of his fingers, every breath from his lips, every plunge of your pelvises.

“i love you,” he whispered into your ear, eyes practically blown feral. “damn, i love you so much. forever and always. gonna keep you safe, gonna keep you happy- fuck.”

you mewled at all the pussydrunk confessions tumbling out of him. “love you, too, gumi! love you, love you- ah!”

his tip hitting that golden spot now, your legs starting to shake around his.

“if i ever see someone touch you again, i’m putting them six feet fucking under.”

“nng, sir!”

“you’re mine.”

the dam finally broke, your cunt clamping down on his dick as your orgasm tore through you as if it were a monsoon. the sensation of you creaming around him sent your boyfriend over the edge next, megumi filling you up as you continued to be flooded with pleasure.

the two of you sat there in content quiet, megumi running his hand up your back to try and soothe you as you both recovered. you lifted your head up, gazing at him with droopy eyes.

“did you mean it?”

his brow furrowed. “mean what?”

“putting someone six feet under. would you actually do it?”

he wrapped you in an embrace, bringing your tired body to rest against his.

“without hesitation.”

———

saige’s terrortober masterlist

[buckets-and-trees]

Welcome Home, Pumpkin [spiced]

Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 1.9k Summary: Bad ethics. Zero impulse control. This is what everyone says about him. What will it mean for you tonight?

Content/Warnings: dubious consent, soft!dark story, use of pet name "Pumpkin," explicit smut (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), orgasm denial, groping, light choking, bondage

Notes: This is the second of three in a set of short stories with Lloyd served three ways - soft, soft!dark, and dark. The three feature the same setting, overlapping themes, shared thoughts, and bits of dialogue. Spiced is the soft!dark version.

sugar pumpkin | smashed pumpkin

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You shut the door behind you and sigh, happy to be home after a long day - a long week, really. 

You slip your shoes off, hang your bag on the hook by the door, and turn on some music before making your way down the hall to your bedroom, ready to change from your professional clothes to something comfy to lounge in the rest of the evening. 

You jump when a deep, serious voice you aren’t expecting says, “Welcome home, Pumpkin.”

Your heart rockets into your throat, and you grip the doorframe. “Lloyd Hansen!”

He chuckles, rising from the spot he’d been perched on the edge of the bed. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” 

He makes a show of bowing slightly, “And yet, here I am.”

You hesitate in the doorway, studying the face of the man you are now so familiar with. The steel blue eyes, the sharp jawline, the ridiculous mustache you hoped to avoid indefinitely. 

He looks you up and down slowly, then sits back on the bed. “Did you think I would really be stuck in a Lithuanian prison?”

You narrow your eyes slightly and chew the inside of your cheek. His eyes study you as much as you’re studying him, and you don’t want to give anything away. 

“Aw, you did. That’s cute,” he says, voice dripping in saccharine sweetness. “You should’ve known I’d be able to work myself out of there in two or three days, at most.”

You shrug. “A girl can hope.”

“Only one night, by the way, since I know you won’t ask,” he says, clearly wanting to boast. 

“And that was six months ago,” you counter. “I finished the job and got the paycheck.”

“The job might be done, but we have unfinished business, Pumpkin. And it’s more fun surprising you like this when you thought you’d never see me again, isn’t it?” he simpers. 

He might have been biding his time to drop in on your life again, and you can sense he’s eager, a bit impatient, but you also sense he will play this out the way he wants now that the two of you are in the same room together again.

And you hate the way you’ve been drawn to this man since the day you two first crossed paths. He is dangerous and untrustworthy. You operate in the daylight and occasionally step into the shadows, but he lives in the dark, revels in it. 

“Are you going to tell me what you’re keeping from me? Why you took the contract in Kaunas in the first place?” he asks, lifting his chin just a fraction. 

And oh that look does something to you - the delicious swoop in your stomach that made you weak in Eastern Europe and traitorously eager for him now. 

“No,” you finally answer. Slowly, you take measured steps toward him. 

“Fair enough. But I might get under your skin enough to change your tune, wind you up, have you singing all sorts of secrets for me.”

“How much time did you spend thinking up that line? The imagery, the alliteration? Impressive.”

“Not the only thing that’s impressive about me,” he responds without a second thought.

You scoff, but there is an impertinent flutter in your chest you try to tamp down. He talks - a lot - but from the brief time you were in each others’ orbit in Lithuania, you learned he could back up his bluster with brains and brawn. A dangerous player on the board.

“How much time did spend you think about my fingers deep in your pussy like they were in the closet in that day in Kaunas?”

His words hang in the air, a bold challenge that sends a shiver down your spine. Your mind immediately flashes back to the last day in Lithuania, when you had been alone, hiding in a closet and his fingers had boldly started to explore your body. You can almost feel the heat of his touch, his breath on your neck, and his hard body pressed against your back like they were that day. The memory floods your senses, the smell of wood and dust, the creaking of the floorboards as the hired goons patrolled up and down the hallway just on the other side of the door. And now, here he is, asking how much time she had spent thinking about it.

You couldn't deny to yourself the way your body responds to his words, his presence, craving that same intense pleasure again, but you can deny it to him. You have to.

“I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now,” you reply simply and walk over to your dresser, bypassing him on the bed. Methodically, you begin to take off your necklace, and then your watch, as if he’s not there.

“Want, need, crave…”

“Lloyd!” You gasp because those words are murmured directly in your ear, as Lloyd has moved with silent precision right behind you. 

“…those are all different things,” he says. He presses his hard body up against your back, pressing his pelvis up against your ass, knocking you roughly into the drawers, pinning you. “You may not want this, but need it? Crave it?”

“No,” you whimper when he grinds against you again. 

“Mmm, you made some pretty, soft sounds when we were hidden in the dark before. Wonder what sounds I can get you to make now that we’re not trying to be discreet.”

“We’re not trying to be anything,” you argue, squirming against him. 

“Anything with labels, no, definitely not,” he agrees. “But you’re itching for it, aren’t you, Pumpkin?” 

One of his large hands gropes your breast, and the other moves to your throat. He squeezes in both places, and you groan, a shiver ripping through you. 

He chuckles, “I see we like that.”

“No,” you whimper. 

“Boring!” he barks. 

In one swift motion, Lloyd hefts you up, flips you around and has you on the bed pinned beneath him, body pressing into yours. He growls into your mouth as he claims you in a filthy kiss. He props himself up slightly on one arm, and his other hand reaches to tear the front of your shirt open, rending the fabric in two. 

You look up at him, chest heaving, waiting with bated breath. 

He unbuttons the top of your pants and drags down the zipper, all the while looking in your eyes. 

“I find you wet, and I’m not stopping,” he insists, tone low, calculated. 

You could press your thighs together, try to squirm away from him, but he’s too strong, and you know what he’s going to find. You could even turn your head and look away, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

His fingers dip into your panties, and he goes straight for the cut of you, slick and wet for him, and slips a finger inside. 

“I knew it,” he whispers. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing in slow circles.

You moan, arching into his touch, unable to resist the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he murmurs, adding another finger and thrusting them inside you.

You wriggle and writhe beneath him, unable to control your body’s response to his touch. He watches with dark satisfaction as you lose yourself in the moment.

“Lloyd,” you moan his name, and he chuckles softly.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” he coos, increasing the speed of his fingers inside you.

Your breath hitches as your orgasm approaches.

But then he pulls his thick fingers away, and a whine escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your body surges up, pelvis seeking his.

"You'll give me what I want," Lloyd purrs, his voice low and dangerous. He brings his slick fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. The sight makes you shiver involuntarily.

"Never," you breathe, but your voice lacks conviction.

Lloyd smirks, clearly not believing you. "We'll see about that."

He leans down, pressing his body against yours once more. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, "I always get what I want. And right now, I want you."

Before you can respond, he captures your lips in another searing kiss. His hands roam your body, touching, teasing, igniting a fire within you that you've tried so hard to extinguish. You hate how easily he can affect you, how your body responds to his touch without your permission.

Lloyd's voice is a low rumble against your ear as he pins you to the bed. "You'll tell me everything I want to know."

You struggle to catch your breath, still reeling from the sudden loss of his touch. "I told you, I'm not giving you anything."

He smirks, trailing a finger down your cheek. "Oh, but you will. Your body's already betraying you. I think you’ll give me everything."

You think there’s a possibility he could end up being right, because while you didn’t think of him much after Lithuania, the truth is you did think of him. You thought of him on some of the nights alone in your bed when you had your best orgasms.

"What's the real reason you took that contract in Kaunas?" he demands.

You clench your jaw, refusing to answer. Lloyd's hand slides back to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"Come on, Pumpkin. Make this easy on yourself."

Your breath catches as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around your throat. The pressure sends a thrill through you, desire boiling in your belly despite your best efforts to resist.

"I won't tell you anything," you manage to choke out, your voice strained.

Lloyd's eyes darken with a mix of frustration and arousal. "So stubborn," he murmurs. "But I did hope you’d choose the hard way."

He takes off his belt and binds it around your forearms. He yanks the clothing completely down and off your bottom half, and then he’s between your legs, cock out, and pushing his thick, blunt head against your entrance. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "Last chance to tell me what I want to know."

You turn your head, refusing to meet his gaze. "Go to hell," you spit out.

He chuckles darkly. "Oh, we're already there, Pumpkin."

With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness. Lloyd groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Fuck, you feel even better than I thought you would.”

You moan and push your bound forearms at his chest.

Lloyd growls, grabs your wrists, and pins them above your head in one of his giant hands.

Then he proceeds to fuck you.

Slowly.

He gives you what you won’t admit you want.

Over and over again he gives it to you, until you’re boneless, voice hoarse, throat raw, limbs aching, babbling, but somehow still fighting against giving the one piece of information he’s seemingly desperate to have.

When dawn is about to break, dazed and delirious with pleasure, you wonder which of you will break first - or if neither of you will.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

all Welcome Home, Pumpkin stories

Aaaaah! So with the second one, what do you think? Was this anything like what you were expecting? Did you catch the repeated lines?

...and will you be ready for the third and darkest of the three?!

[smilelikeacheshirecat]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Bridget Hearts x fem!reader

Genre: mostly fluff, mention of bully

note: OC name Cherise aka daughter of Cheshire Cat

word count: 1222

Summary: Bridget finds herself lost in the woods after the vks were chasing her and had gotten hurt. As she tries to find her way back to the academy, she had cross pass to a past friend

"Come out Bridget" Uliana called sweetly. "We were just having a little fun right" she said followed by a cackling laugh along with her followers; Harry and Morgie as they continue looking for the princess who's hiding somewhere.

They were at it again, bullying poor Bridget when all she wanted was to be friends. And like always, in exchange for her kindness, she gets tormented by the vks but that still doesn't stop her from befriending them and it seems like she won't stop until she does but for now she must hide.

Bridget then notice they were getting closer on her hiding place and the only escape is the window with no other hiding place unless she makes a run for it through the forest.

With no other choice, she opened the window and bolted towards the woods. Just as she hide behind the safety of the trees she saw the vks passed her previous hiding place before looking somewhere else to find her.

Knowing she wasn't safe yet, Bridget decided to walk further into the forest just to let the vks cool down and eventually forget about her. 

"They won't look for me in the forest right?" She said to herslef.

But as time passed, little did she notice how unfamiliar her surroundings has started to be. She doesn't know where she is, everything looks the same and it's no help that the sun was nearing to set.

"Oh where am I?" Bridget asked herself, looking left and right.

At first she didn't thought too much of it since she can still see the academy but she went a further into the forest and now she's lost. And now, the sun is almost setting and she's not one that enjoys the dark. There were all sorts of path leading to who knows where. In wonderland there may be signs that don't make sense but she's quite familiar with but the woods here don't have any.

Just when she thought all hope is lost, the princess heard something, just far from a distance where she stands. She heard someone . . . humming? This deep in the forest? Well she's not really in the place to judge since she herself is in the forest. But unlike her, she's already panicking as the sky began to darken and yet this person is humming like they haven't had a care in the world.

Bridget followed the soft sound until she finds herself to a large tree and within its branches was a girl, lying with its . . . tail? swinging back and fort.

It was a girl but with a fluffy tail and cat-like ears on top of its soft blue hair. The girl was just humming a soft tune as if lulling herself to sleep. But what really intrigued her was the colour of its fur. It's familiar with its soft colour pattern of soft blue with pink strips. An unlikely colour for normal cats here but quite normal in wonderland to one particular person she knows.

And then it hit her.

"Cherise?" Bridget called out to the cat on the tree.

"Hmmm" the cat-like-girl responded, not even bothered to open her eyes. But she's already of her presence.

Cherise Cat, unlike her father, Cheshire Cat —who likes to prank unsuspecting people in his woods—she likes to relax in her tree and away from people that would bother her. But she still entertains anyone who crosses her path. Especially this little prissy pink Princess of Hearts.

"Oh thank goodness you're here." Bridget let out a sigh of relief as she approaches the girl and her tree.

Cherise open one of her eyes now fully awake from her nap. She stretches her limbs before facing the princess.

"My, my, what curious steps have led you here? Were you searching for something, or did something find you? But then, does it matter which came first"

Cherise was always one that speaks in such riddle manner which to anyone else might find quite annoying but Bridget like it whenever the two would hold their rare conversation.

"I'm kinda lost and I was hoping yo—" Bridget admitted.

"One is never truly lost if they're heading somewhere, even if that somewhere is just beyond reach. But tell me, are you truly lost, or do you merely wish to see what's just out of sight?"

"Well . . . ” Bridget look down on we fiddling fingers as she recalls the events why she was lead to the forest.

"I was just out going for a little walk but then I got confuse where the path I came from since—" before she could continue Cherise suddenly appeared before her, just a few feet close, her grin still in full display. To others it would frighten them instantly but Bridget was quite use to it and honestly find it comforting.

"You don't have to lie to me princess but I wouldn't force you to tell me either" the cat-like girl said as she levitates off the ground and above Bridget's head. It wasn't that she wasn't interested but she could see how uncomfortable the princess was in sharing so she let it be. "You'd need only to follow me" Cherise said before she starts to floats along a path.

The princess smiled grateful for not pushing her to open up and followed quickly.

Along the walk you Cherise wasn't even flying that fast but Bridget was falling behind. She looks back to the girl below and notice the faint limping movements on the girl's left foot.

The cat tilted her head before vanishing into thin air.

"Cherise!" Bridget called out, panic arise again when she saw the cat disappear. She was about to run but stop when she felt soft hand on her leg, she looks down and find the grinning cat inspecting her leg closely.

"Well that won't do" Cherise said before conjuring a bandage and gently wrap the swollen foot.

The gesture and how gentle Cherise was being made the princess blush but let the cat-like girl do as she please.

When the cat was done she disappeared again and reappear right in front of her with her hands stretch out. "This is as far as you go" she said. As much as she likes Bridget's company, she wont let her limp all the way back to school.

The statement made Bridget confuse since it seems like they're still deep inside the forest. But nevertheless she took the cat's hand. Cherise's hand was soft and warm but before she could further speculate the touch.

Cherise then pulled the princess close then twirl her around, evaporating both her and the princess. Bridget was shock from the motion but then when she compose herself, she realized that they were back at the school and in front of her dorm room.

The cheshire cat had teleport them back to the school in just a second.

"What the . . . " she turns to face the girl who was now floating just above her, with her famous cheshire grin still on her face.

Bridget notice that Cherise was slowly disappearing again but before she could, the princess suddenly blurted. "Thank you" as she gave her a smile of her own.

Cherise grins widen, she reach to the princess' hand and left a light kiss before her body disappear, leaving Bridget alone to rest. "Until the next time princess" the cat's voice fades along with her presence leaving only her smile before it completely disappear. 

[ashs-cardboard-box]

An Odd Consolation

~ Sebastian Solace/GN!Reader

~ (Physical) Hurt/(Reluctant) Comfort

~ Platonic

~ 2.3k words

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How long has it been since you’ve gotten a first-aid kit? Five floors? Ten? You were starting to lose track. After an encounter with what felt like Jesus Christ himself punishing you for being an Expendable, your head felt all fuzzy and distracting. Though, realistically, it was Eyefestation paired with a bad crossing from the Good People and a sprinkle of face burns from a steaming pipe. Not fun!

Large gashes paint your chest, just from the claws of the Z-96. The skin on your face felt tight as a result of your painful first degree burns. The worst part about this program was the pain. Sure, you can die and respawn which was cool..you guessed.. but getting mowed down by an angler variant? Or getting electrocuted? Or the puddles of void mass crammed inside the lockers? Torn to shreds by wall dwellers? It all hurt terribly. Only to be cursed to wake up again, with Sebastian right in your face, and do it all over again– Unless you wish to be blown up, of course.

You weren’t even collecting data anymore. Your, now torn, jumpsuit had long been dried since the last flooded path you managed to stumble upon, which further supports your theory that whatever wet warmth is sticking the fabric to your skin, is the blood from your wounds. Clutching your chest in a self-hug of sorts to prevent any more blood from spilling out, albeit unsuccessfully, you force yourself to keep going.

Every time you stop for too long to catch your breath, the intercom chimes overhead, with the same staff voice telling you – threatening you – that you need to move forward, lest you want to be detonated where you stand. So, you push forward.

One wobbly step after the other into door, after door, after flooded hallway, after door. Only stopping to hide in a locker, hide from turrets, or to dive as quickly as you possibly can into another room to hide from any angler that even remotely sounds like Pandemonium.

You were tempted to just give up and open up your vulnerabilities to the next entity that wanted your head on a spike. That was your best option after all. A bit more pain to finally make it all go away for a while? Before you wake up again, that is. A new start..sounded frustrating, but so damn enticing.

However, you’re pulled from your thoughts when a vent is pushed open on its own. The metal grate clatters loudly against the concrete floor right at your feet, followed by a hushed “over here!”. You’d completely forgotten about Sebastian in your misery. The angler-mutant-thing that always managed to find where you died, bring you back to life, and borderline insult you for your performance. You weren’t sure if he was always watching you through the security cameras or if he was getting reports from the other monsters somehow, but you couldn’t care at the moment.

Stealing a quick glance around the dark room, spotting a few Squiddles lingering in the shadows, you’re focused on the two doors in the room, both key-card locked. The first, the navi-path interface sparked, despite the green numbers telling you “027”. You can already guess that Z-96 is behind it and Painter has infected the interface. The second door reads “049”, which makes much more sense to your pain-addled brain. You vaguely remember Sebastian giving a rough estimate to where his shop is located. Somewhere around fifty?

Dropping down onto your knees a bit too roughly, causing blunt pain to your kneecaps – hardly protected by the flimsy knee pads Urbanshade provided – you steal a cautious glance behind you for wall dwellers before crawling towards the vent. One arm supports most of the weight of your front half, as the other cradles your chest wounds. You feel like you can cry out of relief at the flicker of Sebastian’s lure, causing the room to illuminate.

“Welcome back, frien- eugh..” He starts. Comforting, you think sarcastically with a subtle roll of your eyes. Offering him a tightlipped smile as you stand up, gritting your teeth from the strain of your wounds as your muscles struggle to keep you upright. “What..happened to you?” Sebastian inquires, slightly judgemental, with a tilt of his head. His three eyes follow your each and every move. Watching as you silently shuffle across the small space, right towards his tail. Fully locked onto the medkit strapped to the appendage.

Stuffing your hand into the deep pockets of your jumpsuit and pulling out what little amount of data you have. A handful of USB sticks and some soggy files… equivalent to only ninety bucks. God damn it. Your lack of proper data hunting had come to bite you in the ass. With a sigh, you opt to just buy a battery with what little options you actually have. Your flashlight was running a bit low anyways.

Haphazardly tossing a few folders and USB sticks on the floor for Sebastian to pick up, you trudge up to the desk directly to the right of Sebastian. Several DNA casings rest atop it, illuminated by a small lamp, Several different colors for, what you can imagine are, all sorts of different species. The large document that you know belongs to Sebastian practically taunts you to read it, but you shift your gaze back to the batteries. Reaching forward to grab one with a bloodied hand, only to pause when a large, pointed claw pokes you in the shoulder nearly pushing you over. “Are you not gonna fix that?” Sebastian prompts as he tugs his four-clawed hand away from you, clasping it back over his left, watching silently as you fumble, catching yourself on the desk. He tuts at the bloody print left behind as you set your palms flat onto the dull-white surface. “Don’t have enough data..” You grumble tersely, shifting your feet better underneath yourself as your knees threaten to buckle. Snatching the battery off of the corner of the desk, you slip your hand into your pocket and fish out your flashlight. Flipping it over and trying to twist the bottom of it off, struggling only slightly with slippery hands but you manage, sliding the battery into its compartment and twisting the small cap back on. Sebastian is silent, for some reason. Usually, there was some smart ass comment about how he doesn’t give credit or insulting your lack of funds…but there’s nothing. 

His eyes feel like they’re piercing into your soul as he stares down at you. You don’t pay attention to him. He’ll be there..just like always. Tucking your flashlight away, you grab the blue keycard off of the desk and turn back towards the vent with intent to leave Sebastian’s shop. 

That was until you feel two large claws on your upper back as Sebastian grabs ahold of the slack of your torn jumpsuit. Picking you up by the fabric with a humiliating ease, as if you were a kitten being held up by its scruff.

“How stupid are you?” He scolds as he sets you down on his tail. Your boots almost slip against his scales, unused to the uneven surface beneath you, but Sebastian, with an annoyed sigh, grabs you as gently as he can muster, setting you on the ground again inside the inner curve of his tail to prevent your…idiotic…self from dying over some dumb mistake.

“It’s the least you could do..apart from not dying, that is.” Sebastian mutters under his breath, chuckling at his own remark. Using his two left arms, he unfastens the first-aid kit from the straps around his tail, holding it in place. It’s too damn small in his claws, so he hands it off to you. Setting it, rather roughly, in your arms.

Stunned, you hesitate. What was he playing at? He would never give you free stuff. In fact, he would probably shoot you if you even asked. Staring down at the medical kit, jaw slightly agape. Sebastian huffs, plucking the kit from your hands again and flicking off the top with his...thumb? “You idiot…” He grumbles, dumping the contents onto his large palm, handing it down to you. The plastic lid and container tossed aside uselessly. A thick roll of gauze, bandages, skin tape, epinephrine, burn cream, antiseptic wipes..the usual insides. You raise your gaze up to meet Sebastian’s own, much more impatient one. Slowly reaching out and taking the gauze into your hands, grabbing a hold of the loose end and strapping it to your side, pinching it down beneath your fingers to your ribs. Pulling the roll back around your back, switching hands to get the other side, before completely around your chest. It fucking stings..bad. You can feel your blood trying to soak through the fibrous material, subsequently sticking it to your wound. But, you know it’s for the best. Trying to avoid Sebastian’s critical eye as you work, having to pause for a moment due to an ache in your bicep muscles from the repetitive motion. “Why are you helping me?” You question warily. Your voice causes Sebastian’s ear fins to flick every so slightly. Shrugging noncommittally, he sets down the extra materials on his tail in front of you, leaving it up for grabs as you need it.

“You needed it, didn’t you?” Sebastian scrutinized, inspecting the ring on his third hand, so he’s not creepily watching you bandage yourself. “That’s… not what I asked.” You huff, finally getting your chest tissue and ribs covered up. Looking up at Sebastian as he skims the small shop, like he hadn’t seen it before. Not-so-subtly moving his left hand down, using his claw to cut off the spare gauze attached to the roll, allowing you the proper amount you need.

“I know.” He states. “And I don’t care.” You hum suspiciously, but don’t push it. He was helping you out for free, why would you complain? Pinning down the loose gauze strand to your side once again, you use your free hand to finagle the edge of the skin tape, yanking it unceremoniously to grab a bit more slack you can actually use. Silently lifting it up by the edge, letting the roll freely dangle, wordlessly asking Sebastian to cut it as well.

Surprisingly, he complies. Swiping a claw against the tape, freeing it from the roll, causing it to hit the floor at your feet. Awkwardly adjusting the strap to prevent it from sticking to itself, you can pin down your gauze.

“Sit.” Sebastian demands, gingerly tugging on the back of your jumpsuit, causing you to lose balance and tumble backwards, landing right on your ass. It hurts a bit, but the pain quickly subsides. Your back pressed up against his firm tail, tilting your head back to be able to stare up at him. “What?” you question, only to be met with silence. He ignores you completely, but he doesn’t let you get up. Tucking his third hand up underneath your chin, keeping your head tilted up towards him. The coldness of his ring against your skin causes it to prickle with goosebumps, but you don’t mind much. Peering down at your half-burned face, his claw accidentally digs into a blister, causing you to hiss in pain. You didn’t really plan to do anything about the burn, just wanting your bleeding to stop, but Sebastian had other plans. “Sit.” He repeats firmly, as if you were going to get up and scurry off. His second left hand grabs ahold of the small tube of burn cream, puncturing it with ease before spreading a small amount on the length of his claw between the first knuckle and the second. Using the blunt side to massage the cream into your face, all while holding your jaw like an uncooperative pet.

Sitting still, you allow Sebastian to cover your burns. It’s an action neither of you are particularly used to, but neither try to jerk away from the other. With a sigh, you relax against him, closing your eyes. His skin isn’t particularly soft, feeling more like the grit of a cat’s tongue, but he seems to take more caution around it. Sebastian’s not exactly warm either, but he’s comfortable, at least. “Why’re you helpin’ me..?” You mumble, pulling your knees up to your chest to get a bit more cozy against the floor. You can feel your lower back tingling slightly as it begins to go numb, but shifting more will only cause more pain. “Because you lack the self-preservation skills to do it yourself.” Sebastian grunts, more focused on coating your face in petroleum jelly rather than his responses. Removing his hand from your face and draping it over you, making you feel incredibly small. His ear fins fluttering at the sound of an angler screeching as it rushes down the hall, searching for you. You hum monotonously in acknowledgement, subconsciously tensing at the sound, despite knowing it wouldn’t be able to reach you through the vent. “You’re not falling asleep on me. You still have things to do.” He states firmly, but he makes no actual effort to move you away from him. Pleased with the coverage on your face, Sebastian finally pulls his hand away, wiping the remaining residue on your jumpsuit. “‘m not.” You agree, but you know you’re probably lying.

You never really realize how exhausted you are until you’re on the verge of tears from pain alone and forced to keep moving. Kept on edge, stressed to the end of your wits. You knew you should get going. This was weird. Not to mention, Sebastian was usually an asshole..but you don’t move. Readjusting yourself underneath his large hand, acting as a blanket, you curl up into the curve of his tail, resting your head against it.

“Don’t let me get eaten..” You slur in your exhaustion, earning a small hum from Sebastian, not exactly giving you any sort of indication if he would or wouldn’t. Instead, he rests his thumb atop your head, moving it ever-so-slightly back and forth over your hair in a “petting” motion. He would probably charge you double next run, but as you began to fall asleep on him, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. At least you weren’t dead.

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Hi gang I'm back X3 (he says with the intention to disappear for another decade)

Random fic drop !! I have like. 82 rdr fics open rn </3 procrastination is my best friend

[omgpoindexter]

“It’s going to rain.”

Dex looks up.

Neither he or Nursey have spoken in the last hour, seated in a comfortable silence on the front porch. It’s been the sort of day that makes it uncomfortable to talk, anyway; there’s been a heavy heat smothering them for almost a week now. It makes them antsy and annoyed, so they’ve resorted mostly to silence in a way that would never have happened their freshman year. It’s a development in maturity resulting in long silences that frustrate Chowder and impress Bitty.

Dex is the kind of guy that knows when the rain is coming. He always has been - years of hot, sticky summers on the lobster boat have drilled it into him - but it’s Nursey that squints up at the clouds and makes the statement.

“Hmm,” Dex says, which is neither an agreement or disagreement. Nursey doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead, he cocks his head to one side and smiles up at the approaching dark clouds. “It’s gonna be the kind of rain that makes people take the bus,” he says absently.

Dex frowns reflexively, but inside he’s softly pleased. It’s such a Derek sentence, in its simplicity and its observation. Nursey, however, catches the frown and raises a cool eyebrow. He doesn’t know Dex is gently, sweetly analysing his words.

“Why do you say it like that?” Dex asks, to explain himself before Nursey points out his reflex frown. “The kind of rain that makes you take the bus? Just say it’s a lot of rain.”

Nursey blinks at him, surprised. “I don’t know,” he says after a moment. “I like thinking about it in people terms. It’s more fun.”

“People terms?” Dex asks him. He thinks he knows what Nursey means, but he likes the explanation.

“Yeah,” Nursey shrugs, looking out into the street. The clouds are dark and heavy above them. “People will rush to their cars, or run to bring the laundry in - and if you weren’t sat right here, you’d do it too.”

Dex, surprised, laughs. Nursey looks over at him. He’s smiling a little, and there are crinkles by his eyes.

Then comes a low rumbling noise that echoes through the streets; a clap of thunder quickly follows. Nursey looks away and back at the sky just in time to see it open, and the rain starts, as he said it would.

Dark spots begin to litter the sidewalk and the garden path, rain drumming on the porch roof. Dex hears Bitty shut the kitchen windows somewhere in the Haus behind them.

There’s a shriek from a house a few doors down that makes them both jump. A girl Dex vaguely recognises sprints past them and hurries into her car. Dex looks at Nursey, expecting to see him looking smugly back over at him, but his eyes are fixed on the sky.

He watches Nursey analyse the clouds for a moment.

Dex can imagine the beginnings of a poem forming in his mind: something atmospheric and melancholy that Dex will try to understand but won’t quite, something that encapsulates Derek Nurse in a way Dex wants to be able to do but isn’t quite there yet.

“I guess you’re right,” Dex says, smiling. “Maybe I would.”

[kairiscorner]

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ A RESPONSIBLE OLDER BROTHER...

🍰 genre: fluff ~ !

✒️ word count: 1068

💭 summary: you never thought you'd cross paths with someone who once caught your eye in high school, much less as his younger brother's elementary school teacher.

🍥 author's note: ngl i feel like something like this alr exists out there, i just don't know if someone alr made something like this, so pls lemme know 😭😭😭 and i had no idea what exactly to call this au, but basically, choso and yuuji are half brothers and choso's completely human; they have a wide age gap, but choso's very close to yuuji and is an amazing older brother to him here (he's very involved in his life and supports him so much !!) AND I'M SORRY I MADE KENJAKU YUUJI'S MOM BY DEFAULT 😭😭😭 ik he's also technically choso's dad, but i had to fit the half siblings thing in somewhere TT

"excuse me," spoke a raspy voice from behind you. turning around, you see a tall man with dark, chin length hair and smoky eyeshadow looking at you; he sort of towering over you, coming off as slightly intimidating. "ah, yes?" you asked in a soft voice, forcing a smile. "um... i'm here to pick up yuuji itado—" "big brother!" the little boy's high pitched voice called out for him from within the classroom.

like a little tornado, yuuji slipped out of the classroom and embraced his older brother by the legs, yapping to him a mile a minute about how fun making the origami animals and finger painting were in class today. the man chuckled and pat his younger brother by the head, taking him into his arms and carrying him. "that's great, yuuji, but slow down..." he advised his younger brother, giving him a piggy back ride.

you couldn't help but smile at the brotherly affection yuuji showed for his older brother. "so you're the one yuuji keeps bragging about in class..." you say in a sweet voice, admiring how patient he is with yuuji. the man's eyes go a little wide, and across his face, a reddish blush appears on his cheeks. "well, um... i didn't realize my little brother spoke so highly of me..." "he does, all the time!" you explained, making the man blush a little more as the toddler yuuji played with his older brother's hair.

"say, sir, um, might i know your name? just in case, y'know, security might ask who picked yuuji up next time?" "um, kamo, choso kamo," he introduced himself in a low voice, with you raising your eyebrows at the familiar name. "k-kamo?" you repeated, as if the way the name rolled from your tongue felt strange. he nodded, already brewing up the explanation in his mind that he never failed to explain time and time again others asked how they had different surnames.

"y'see, yuuji's my half brother," he uttered as the toddler soon felt sleepy and was about to sleep on his brother's shoulders. "we have different fathers, but that doesn't mean he's a stranger to me," choso affirmed, letting yuuji rest on his shoulders. you nodded, feeling a little sympathetic about their family situation, but also feeling as though choso had been somebody you once knew back then, some time in your high school years. "i see... well, i'm glad to know you're both very close," you said with a smile, chuckling under your breath at how absolutely adorable yuuji looked when sleeping on his otherwise stoic looking older brother.

"but i have to ask..." you begin as you look over choso's face once more, searching for some familiarity you may have within his features. choso raised an eyebrow as your voice drifted off as you scoured through your memory where you may have heard the name 'choso kamo' before. you snapped your fingers and widened your eyes when you finally realized just who this man might be. "you were my classmate all throughout my first year in high school!" you exclaimed, grinning.

choso looked at you dumbfounded, he didn't realize you were his old classmate until you pointed it out. "you... were?" he asked you, unsure if the person he was remembering from his hazy memories of high school was the very person he was talking to right now, his younger brother's elementary school teacher. you nodded, smiling wider. "yeah! sorry, i just... i didn't realize it was you! you got taller, your hair's longer, and... i like your makeup," you muttered, giggling a little under your breath. it felt like just yesterday that you were sitting next to one of the most cold and aloof people you had ever laid eyes on in the small world you were in that was high school.

you could remember the goth aesthetic choso had, the chunky boots he'd sneak wearing and get in trouble for, the earphones that were always stuffed in his ears and the occasional lip rings he'd wear when no teacher or discipline officer was in the vicinity; he was oddly cool to you back then. maybe it was just your lack of adventure and rebelliousness in your teenage years, but choso always stood out to you as the kind of person you aspired to be; not goth or a rebel or anything like that, more like a person who lived out their freedom and individuality, throwing caution to the wind and living your life how you wanted to, that was the kind of person choso seemed to you, and you had always yearned to become that kind of person, even now, do you wish you were that free with your life and decisions.

choso's cheeks flushed with red once more, he nodded and murmured his thanks at your compliment. he cleared his throat and tried to look you in the eye, unsure if he should refer to you by the name you preferred to be called in high school, or keep the formalities and call you by the name yuuji called you with the honorifics and all. "i... i'm glad i met you again," he muttered, his face getting redder and redder by the minute.

you nodded and grinned wider. "same here. well, see you and yuuji around, choso; i'll be looking forward to seeing you more often now," you said as you headed back to the classroom to check on the other children, with choso nodding, gazing at you from under his eyelashes. "um, wait..." choso called out to you. "yes?" you asked him, turning around to face him. choso could feel his throat go dry as he struggled to find the words to express what he wanted to ask you right then and there. "c-could i... get your number? f-for emergency purposes, of course..." "...sure thing," you obliged, relieving choso, but simultaneously making his heart pound with anticipation as you wrote your number down and handed it to him.

"how responsible of you, really, i'm really glad yuuji has you as his older brother..." you exclaimed, with the corners of choso's lips curving into a soft, delicate smile. "makes me admire you even more, y'know," you added, making choso's entire face erupt into a blush, making your own face heat up as you smiled and giggled under your breath.

guess some things never change no matter how much time passes...

[billsbabydoll]

“𝒾𝓂 ℴ𝓊𝓉 ℴ𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝒹, 𝓉ℴ𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.”

contains:LIGHT HORROR+LIGHT SMUT<3

summary:while on a late night walk back home after the club, i find myself suddenly hearing the sweet melody of an alluring voice luring me into the depths of a hidden alleyway.

WARNINGS:vampire!bill, drunk-curious!reader, eerie setting, pet-names, kissing, make-out session, dry-humping, trippy hallucinations.

notes:ive been in the fall/spooky mood lately, so i wanted to switch it uppp.this is my second attempt at writing this since tumblr deleted my entire progress yesterday ^_^.

god i shouldnt have drank all off those margaritas, in the club obviously they were fun but as im stumbling trying to figure my way home im regretting ever stepping foot into that place.

the night was dimly lit from the moonlight shining above, the wind was cool sure to make anyone shiver, the quiet sound of leaves ruffling were audible in the background.

i crossed my arms over my chest rapidly rubbing my skin trying to create any type of warmth, i hazily looked around in search of any indication of where i could be, only find myself lost with my destination home nowhere in sight.

defeated, i take a few more steps before sitting against a brick wall, taking a deep breath trying come up with some kind of solution.

"maybe i could call someone for a ride?"i thought to myself, quickly pulling the strap of my purse off of my shoulder and placing my bag into my lap.i dig around inside before excitedly pulling out my nokia 2780, opening it to only to find it completely dead.

i dont know what to do at this point, i dont know where i am, i dont even know what time it is, im freezing to death, im drunk as fucking skunk-

“come here baby..”a deep voice suddenly whispered within the shadows.

i frantically look around trying to match the voice to something or someone, only to see the empty road ahead and not a single soul in sight.i slowly stand up from my position on the concrete floor, then anxiously turn the corner walking into a blood-curdling alleyway.

i continue walking deeper into this horrific darkness stopping dead in my tracks when i, not even in a blink of an eye see a tall figure appear in the middle of the path, its red glowing eyes piercing into my own.

“dont be scared, i wont hurt you.”he cooed, magically teleporting right infront of me.

his features were otherworldly, his gaze captivating and hypnotizing, his makeup dark, his skin pale as snow.

he was supernaturally beautiful.

“w-what are y-you?”i muttered, rapidly blinking my eyes trying to figure out if i was just imagining this or if this was real life.

“dont worry about that, for now-”

he paused taking a step closer, his face now not even an inch away from my own, his icy-hands interlinking with my own, his thumb grazing over my warm-blooded skin.

“kiss me doll.”

he then leans in capturing my lips into a passionate kiss, he lets go of my hands now pulling me into his tight grasp before slamming me against a nearby wall.i moan into his mouth, his simple words and beauty trapping me in a hypnosis.

i take the opportunity to tangle my arms around his neck, taking in the unusual metallic taste of his feverish lips, his tongue aggressively raveling with my own, his flavor so addicting and irresistibley delicious.

he begins to repeatedly ram his hips into my own, seeking any sort of relief from the tension bulging through his restricting pants, his clothed cock grinding against my tender pussy.

we continue indulging in each-others lust, he had enchanted me with the most powerful spell but i was too compelled to snap out of it, utterly drowning in his trickery.

he abruptly slows down giving me one last gentle peck before slightly pulling away, his eyes staring into my soul, he wasnt breathing, he didnt even blink once.

i gasp awake, jumping up from my bed, drenched in sweat, still dressed in my clothes from the club and-

a throbbing ache in my neck…

THE END

[it-happened-one-fic]

Might've Walked Slower - Floyd

Author Notes: So, I was actually planning on posting a different fic today, but then the Stitch even came out today so I decided Floyd would get a fic posted today instead. I've actually had this written for a little bit, but it's been undergoing polishing and gathering dust in my google docs. I had fun writing and working on this one, though I have to admit it really doesn't have any specific source of inspiration beyond NRC having an old building and me wondering if there were secret passageways. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff/ flirtation

Word count: 1685

It started the same way a great many things at NRC seemed to start. With a task from Crowley.

To be fair, this task wasn’t particularly difficult or even that annoying. It was just returning some books to the school library for him.

The only trouble came in the form of a bored Floyd Leech, who was currently lurking in the library for unknown reasons. Luckily, Floyd had thus far opted to sit and boredly watch as you shelved books once he’d discovered your presence didn’t mean anything exciting.

But nothing could stay simple in NRC, and today served as still more evidence for that fact.

You’d simply put one hand down on a strangely empty shelf to support yourself while you stretched upwards to place a book on a still higher shelf. And that was when everything went horribly wrong.

You leaned forward ever so slightly more, frowning as you stretched just a little bit more, and all at once the shelf let out a horrible groaning sound and gave way. Your eyes widened, and you realized exactly what was going to happen.

You plummeted forward with a shriek that had Floyd jerking upright from his previously relaxed position of stretching his upper body across the top of a table, “Shrimpy?!”

His voice sounded equal parts startled and concerned, but you paid him little mind as you scrambled, catching yourself against a web-coated wall as you tumbled through where the bookshelf had just been. Your shoulder slamming hard against the cold stone in a way that promised you would have some impressive bruises tomorrow morning.

You groaned slightly as you pushed yourself back, your uninjured arm wrapping around your body so that you could press a hand to your now-throbbing shoulder. But all thoughts of how much that was going to hurt tomorrow fled as you stared at the gaping hole in the wall that was now in front of you.

You stared in quiet horror at the hole before your brain kicked into gear, noting that the edges of the opening were smooth and that this area had obviously been built this way to let the bookshelf swing open like a demented door to reveal the tunnel lined with sconces that hung on the filthy walls.

Though you’d initially thought you’d somehow caused the entire bookcase to topple, that was obviously not the case. Instead, it looked like you’d managed to somehow trigger a mechanism that had opened some sort of hidden door to a passageway that you were now standing in the entrance of.

“Shrimpy, are you…” Floyd trailed off from where he’d appeared behind you as he beheld the darkened path you’d uncovered.

Both of you stood in silence, staring down the stone tunnel whose walls bore unlit sconces before giving way into a deep darkness. You slowly stood as you continued to stare into the darkness from next to Floyd. Wondering what, exactly, this passage was and where it led.

“What have you found this time, Shrimpy?” Floyd’s amused voice snapped you out of your silent gaping, and you shot him a look only to find him staring into the darkness with sparkling eyes that spoke of an emotion that one should always be wary of if it were coming from Floyd. 

Excitement.

With a simple gesture that was not unlike snapping his fingers, magic shot out from where the young man stood, and flames began to flicker in the sconces as he stepped past you into the passageway. Before you could say anything, he’d already reached back and wrapped one hand around your wrist with a smooth rolling motion of his long fingers. 

“Floyd, wai-” You were cut off by him giving you a slight tug and pulling you into the tunnel-like space with him. He was already grinning in a way that told you that you were probably going to be stuck going with him no matter what you said.

“Come on~ it’ll be fun,” His eyes were alight, and the yellow one had a slight glow to it that reminded you of the deep-sea fish that used lights to tempt prey in closer. 

And, in some ways, it was tempting to check out the tunnel-like passage you’d discovered. After all, just finding it brought to light numerous questions. 

Were there more? What was it for? And how old was NRC anyway if it had hidden passageways like this?

You hesitated though, glancing back towards the library as your freehand fell away from your shoulder before Floyd’s sing-songy voice came from far closer than it had been before, telling you he’d stepped closer to you, “Don’t you wanna know where it leads~?”

You looked back towards him, finding that he had indeed stepped closer and was now looking at you, still holding onto your wrist and smiling in a way that told you he knew he was going to win. Because, unfortunately, you were curious about this hidden passage that you’d discovered.

“Just for a little while. I’m not spending all day and night exploring some creepy path with you,” Your tone was firm, but still drew a giggle from the tall young man who now turned to lead you down the path. His hand sliding down until your hands were interlocked.

“It's not creepy, just a little dark. Kind of like home,” You all but snorted at his utterly relaxed demeanor. Of course he wouldn’t find previously secret, web-encrusted tunnels lit only by widely spaced sconces creepy.

But then there was no telling what he was used to seeing from his time living under the sea. Creepy might be an everyday commodity for him. And he had said it was sort of like his home….

When you didn’t actually respond as you glanced around at your surroundings, he twisted, looking back at you with an amused, almost mocking grin, “Aw, don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Shrimpy~”

“Hardly, I just tend to be wary of places that strike me as fishy,” If anything, your words seemed to delight him further as he tugged you up closer to him so that you were walking side by side as he leaned towards you.

“Don’t worry. I’m way more fishy than anything that’ll be in here,” He winked in a way that had you rolling your eyes, but not pulling away from him even as he giggled. Because, for better or worse, having Floyd with you while exploring some dark hole in a magical school was far better than being alone.

After all, he could probably take on anything you found.

Floyd stopped, tugging you to a stop by simply not letting you pull him with you as you came to the edge of the set of stairs. 

Glancing back, you noticed him tilting his head with a thoughtful expression before he met your gaze and smiled teasingly once more, “Reckon it goes to the dungeon?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that came from your throat as you shook your head, “Why would a school have a dungeon?”

He shrugged, staring down the stone steps and soon guiding you down with him as he kept lighting sconces as you approached them, and amusingly, it made you wonder if he really was worried that you were afraid of the dark, “Don’t know, maybe for bad kiddies?”

“Shouldn’t most of the school, including you, be down here then?” Your wry words had him snickering even as you pondered where the staircase led. 

You tilted your head as you carefully followed Floyd down the stone staircase, “Has this place always been a school?”

Floyd gave you a sideways glance before shrugging in a perfectly nonchalant manner, “Don’t know. You’d have to ask one of the history buffs about that.”

Your mind briefly flickered to Malleus’s analysis of the gargoyles on every building on the campus before you dismissed the thought with a shrug, “Either way, I hope this staircase ends with a door out of here.”

“Aw, you aren’t enjoying our date?” You grinned despite yourself at Floyd’s potentially faux pout.

“I didn’t realize this was a date?” You glanced up, still smiling, at Floyd in time to watch as he briefly went wide-eyed before recovering with record timing.

“You think I just casually take all cuties down some potentially forbidden tunnel?” Floyd’s grin was perfectly shameless, but it had laughter bubbling out of you as you shook your head at his antics.

And a large part of you couldn’t believe that you were slowly slipping into the all-too-obvious trap of flirting with Floyd. But here you were, and in no way were you uncomfortable.

In fact, despite yourself and the environment, you were perfectly enjoying your little jaunt through this web-encrusted passage. And you had a sneaking suspicion that the sole reason you were having fun was the young man next to you.

Looking ahead, you could indeed see a door at the foot of the stairs, no doubt the exit to the lengthy tunnel, “How about next time you tell me we’re on a date before whisking me off down some dark tunnel? I might’ve walked slower.”

You could’ve sworn his eyes were sparkling as he grinned at both you and your words before he turned to look at the door, “Well, let’s see where our secret path leads.”

With that, he pushed open the door, scaring the ghosts on the other sides and letting the scent of cooking food spill into the passageway. Your new location could be in only one place. The kitchen.

Floyd was laughing as the two of you entered the hot room filled with now flustered spirits, but before he let go of your hand, he tugged you closer to him and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time you go exploring, make sure to tell me.”

You looked up to see him grinning at you, utterly delighted by the happenings of the day and a long way off from the bored Floyd of earlier as he winked at you, “I’ve got to hold you to walking slower on our next date.”

[frannyzooey]

Middle of the Night

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: He comes to you for comfort.

A/N: Thank you to my loves @mourningbirds1 @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @krissology looking this over for me ❤️

—

Tucked onto his side with his broad back facing you, you crawl into bed and press your nose into the curls that cover the nape of his neck, breathing him in. Your hand maps his firm shoulder, running a well worn path over the curve of his side and his calloused hand grasps yours, pulling it close. 

You sleep, because you’re exhausted, and so does he. 

It’s the middle of the night when he finds you. 

When his guard is down – not all the way, it’s never down all the way – but when the fog of sleep dulls his brain and his heart and he’s reduced to nothing but a man seeking out your warmth in the dusky black of the room, that’s when he finds you. His hands pulling you close, his mouth seeking yours.

Those hands that deliver brutality when needed, that curl into fists or mold around his rifle - a semblance of their old tenderness comes out in his touch when he guides your sleep limp limbs around him; the wet heat of his mouth felt against your skin when he tucks his face into the crook of your neck and inhales.

His strong arm winds around your side, holding you tight and he pulls you from sleep when you feel the drag of his lips as they pepper light kisses along the curve of your jaw. You shift your face down to his and he looks up, his mouth meeting yours.

It’s a languid kiss, a sleepy one laced with a low simmering need. His tongue dips into your mouth, opening you up for him and your fingers brush against the wiry hair of his gray streaked beard, pulling him closer. You shift to face him fully, fitting your body along his and he reaches down, impatiently tugging away the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in. He needs that barrier to you gone and when it is, his thigh finds the space between your own and he rolls you onto your back, deepening the kiss with a low sound at the back of his throat. 

If you had met before all this happened, there might have been a time where you did this sort of thing with affectionate smiles on your faces, kissing each other breathless through teasing words. There might have been open delight in the act as you had fun with it, laughing quietly into the dark room as you peeled off each other’s clothes in a playful, clumsy fumble. 

But you met now, and so you still peel the clothes off, but there is no laughing. No silly words, no teasing. There is only raw hunger for each other as you find every inch of his firm, bare skin as it’s revealed and he does the same for you. 

“Joel,” you breathe into his kiss when you’re naked and pressed against each other tight, his cock a stiff heft against the curve of your ass as you wind your legs around his waist. He’s a heavy weight on top of you, forcing you into the mattress and you relish the security in his warm drape; tuck it away for later, when you’ll need to recall it. His beard scrapes the palms of your hands, your hold shifting up to thread into his hair. 

Pulling back just enough, he brings his fingers up to his mouth with a suck, wetting them. Your eyes watch the lewd gesture before he reaches down between your bodies and finding the pearl of your clit, he rubs it with a firm, practiced, slick glide, pressing his mouth back against yours. 

Arching into his touch, you keen underneath him and your thighs open wider, your hips rolling lightly against his hand. 

“Fuck,” you exhale, a blooming heat building. “Keep touching it like that. Keep –”

“I know what you need, pretty girl. I know.” The lilt of his accent slips deeper, pairing with the husk of his low voice.

He does know. Keeps doing it until you start to force your hips against the swift circle of his touch, keeps doing it until you tell him that you need him and that’s when he slips himself inside: when your achingly empty cunt flutters around the snug fit before pulling him deep. His hand, still damp with your slick, finds your own and with a strength you’ve seen him display in so many situations, he circles your wrist, forcing it into the bed above your head. You wiggle it free, lacing your fingers with his.

He fucks rough. Bruising strokes, harsh snaps of his hips, ones that betray his need for you. You take everything he gives, his hand tightening its hold on yours while the other one cups your cheek, making sure your mouth stays on his. 

You squeeze his bicep, moaning into his hungry kiss and lift your hips so he can slide in deeper. 

“Goddamn you feel so good,” he groans, breaking the kiss to rest the bridge of his nose against your cheek. He grunts with every deep push forward, the puff of hot air trapped against your skin. “I don’t ever wanna stop.”

“Don’t,” you encourage him, tipping your head back into the pillow and he takes the opportunity to lave his tongue along the hollow of your throat, just before biting down on the juncture of your shoulder. When you hiss, he smiles against your skin. 

“The only good part of my day is this. You, and this pussy right here,” the last words punctuated with a harsh fit of his hips into your own. 

Slipping your hand from his hold, you reach down and follow the dip of his spine to dig your fingers into the meat of his ass, forcing him deeper. His mouth follows the swell of your breasts, his tongue curling over a hardened peak before drawing it into his mouth with a suck. His hand cups the bottom of it, greedily pushing the plump of it up and he opens his mouth wider. His teeth catch, before his tongue soothes. 

“Did you think about this today?” he asks, his hand skating down to curl around the bend of your knee, tugging it higher. “Did you want it?”

“Yes,” you admit, moaning the word. “I always do.”

When he’s away - either physically, or when he withdraws into the depth of pain that haunts his memories - you do miss it. Miss this version of him that allows himself to seek comfort in someone else. To love with his body, even if he’ll never say the words. 

“I wanna be sore tomorrow. I wanna remember. I wanna think about how deep you got, how good you fucked me, Joel. Make me sore, okay?”

A depraved part of his soul, the one that’s grown to cover up the lighter version of him that used to exist, responds instantly to the words and he growls, fucking into you harder. 

“Like this?” he asks, breathless and forceful. His hips snap forward, again, again. “Like this?”

Yes, you cry out for him. Please. 

The old mattress you sleep on rhythmically thudding against the wall, black creeps around the edges of his vision. His gaze fixes on your open mouth, your plush lips, your clenched shut eyes and he fists the worn sheet, using it for leverage. He fucks you like he wants to bury himself inside you and sensing what he needs, you curl your arms around his shoulders, tugging him close. 

I’m right here, I’m right here, you chant in a whisper, right into the shell of his ear. 

“Goddamnit,” he groans loudly, and then again, much lower, almost to himself, like he can’t believe how good you feel. “Goddamn.”

When you come, he groans low when he feels it like a tight fist around him, all the way down to the base of his cock. You’re so wet there’s an audible sound between you as he fucks you through it and he closes his eyes with a frown, trying to last as long as he can. Sweat gathered where your limbs are pressed together, he never wants to leave the flushed heat of your body and waiting until the very last second, he pulls out and spills hot along the inside of your thigh, streaking it with pools of white. 

Then, it’s quiet again.

His body relaxes on top of yours, letting you soothe it. Your nails drag over his back, your fingers kneading into the base of his spine and he melts with a low, content groan. 

This man. The man everyone is afraid of. The one who delivers blunt, efficient violence when it’s needed. The one who is ruthless and hardened, who will stop at nothing to survive and protects what is his: he’s none of those things right now; his arms pushing beneath your body to hold you close. His cheek rests against your thrumming heart and his breathing evens out, slowing into a steady, deep pattern. 

Then, he’s asleep. 

Looking at him in the dark, you wonder how he used to be. Was he funny? Did he joke? Did he have someone to love? Did he have a wife? A family? Did he like movies, or sports, or books, or whatever people did back when they had time for anything else but just surviving? The anger that he bundles up inside of him, the one that pours out in his narrowed gaze and tight jaw and bursts out of his fists - did it always live there? Or did the infection infect him too, only in a different way?

These are questions you’ll never know the answer to. You won’t ask, and you know he wouldn’t tell. It’s a mutual understanding between the two of you: what’s the sense in talking about the past, when it only brings more pain into a world where that’s all there is? 

Better to not think of it. Better to savor the small moments when you get them, like the one you’re having right now. 

He hasn’t moved, his face relaxed in slumber, but his arms are still tight around you as if he’s afraid you might leave him in the night. His unconscious body betrays him — just like his actions, instead of his words. 

The edge of your mouth curls up, your hand brushing back a lock of hair from his forehead and you admire the scarce seen softness in him for a moment, eventually closing your eyes. 

[cera-writes]

Nightcrawler with an SO who can split herself into different emotions with each emotion having a different power. Maybe the emotions are running rampant and causing mischief and Kurt is the only person who can wrangle them in.

Emotional Rampage

A/N: this was a cute request! Sorry it took me a while to get it written for you <3

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x reader

Tags: reader-insert, fluff, angst, emotional turmoil, inner demons, pet names, established relationship, endearments

Nightcrawler materialized in a kitchen bathed in the dimly dark sheen of Fear's shadow manipulation. Dishes clattered as Sullen slammed a cabinet door shut. Overhead, Joy buzzed like a rogue wasp, leaving a sonic trail.

This was Tuesday.

"Alright, alright," Kurt held his hands up, teleporting a plate out of Sullen's path. "Let's calm down, everyone. Was ist los?

Fear flickered, casting distorted shadows of Kurt's normally cheerful grin. "Something's wrong, Kurt. I don't like it."

Joy, a blur of pink energy, zipped around the room. "But we don't know what it is! That's the problem!"

Sullen, radiating a low rumble of disapproval, crossed their arms. "We need to find it. Now."

Kurt sighed. "Ich verstehe, but causing a scene won't help. Tell me what's bothering you."

Silence. Fear dimmed, then flickered again. "It's… a feeling. Something dark approaching."

Joy buzzed impatiently. "Exactly! But without knowing what 'it' is, we can't stop it!"

Kurt, ever the mediator, took a deep breath. "Alright. How about this? We work together. Fear, show me what you sense. Joy, scout ahead with your speed. Und Sullen, if we need to throw down, you've got my back, right?"

Hesitation, then a grudging nod from each fragment. Fear pulsed, sending tendrils of shadow that snaked out the window, pointing towards the city's abandoned amusement park. Joy zipped out with a whoosh, leaving a faint pink afterimage. And Sullen, with a grunt, followed Kurt as he bamfed them out of the chaos.

Standing on the creaky Ferris wheel platform, fear tingled on Kurt's skin. Fear's shadows pointed towards a dark, swirling vortex at the center of the park. It pulsed with a malevolent energy.

Joy reported back, a worried frown etched on their normally carefree face. "Kurt, it's like… a negative-me. It feeds on fear."

Suddenly, a shadowy figure materialized, a twisted reflection of Kurt, complete with pointed ears and a barbed tail. "Ah, Nightcrawler. And your precious little emotions. This will be fun."

A fight ensued. Sullen's strength met the dark doppelganger's blows head-on. Joy zipped around, creating sonic disruptions that momentarily weakened the creature. But it was Kurt, teleporting in surprise attacks while Fear channeled courage into him, who finally managed to land a decisive bamf, sending the negative entity back into the vortex.

With the threat neutralized, the fragments drifted back towards you, their forms merging. You sighed, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin. "Thanks, guys," you whispered, a soft smile gracing your lips.

Kurt pulled you close. "Anytime, Liebchen. Though, maybe next time we could save the demolition for the bad guys?"

A tired giggle escaped you. "Promise." Leaning into his warmth, you watched the city lights twinkle back to life.

Later, curled up on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa, Kurt hesitantly brought up your emotional outburst. "Liebling," he began, his voice laced with concern, "ist alles in Ordnung? These episodes seem to be happening more often."

You snuggled closer, appreciating the gentle way he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. "I don't know, Kurt. It's like… a tangled mess in here sometimes. All these emotions, and I can't always control them."

Kurt squeezed your hand. "But that's what I love about you, Schatz. You wear your heart on your sleeve, in all its beautiful, chaotic glory. And I'll always be here to help you sort through the mess, together."

His words, laced with his endearing native tongue, warmed you more than the cocoa ever could. You realized that even the most complex emotions couldn't dampen the love you shared, a love that thrived on understanding and a whole lot of patience. With a contented sigh, you leaned your head on his shoulder, the tramclings of the evening forgotten. In Kurt's arms, you knew you had a safe haven, a sanctuary where even your most turbulent emotions could find peace.

[digitalro]

After curfew

monoma x reader

The summer breeze was cool that night, you and Monoma were sneaking back into the dorms from the training gym.

This started when a couple of weeks ago, the two of you managed to somehow sneak out to the gym at around the same time.

To avoid snitching on each other, you struck a deal, both of you would sneak out and use the place after hours but neither of you will speak about it.

"Sorry my words were beyond your brain capacity. As expected of a class A student. Let me explain it to you in a language you understand.”

If there was something impressive about Monoma, it’s how he’s held his one-sided beef with class A since you were first years at U.A academy.

You sighed and told him to go on, having had enough of his bullshit already and decided to close your eyes and pray lightning strikes him then and there.

He smiled then cleared his throat, “OOH OOH AH AH!” He mimicked a monkey, jumping around you until it irked you enough to bump his shoulders.

Satisfied with your reaction, he laughed as he got pushed from the path.

Sometimes it took all the willpower in you to not straight up snitch to an instructor, even if it meant getting yourself in trouble because that’s how much he got on your nerves.

You pulled out your phone from your pocket. “That’s it, I’ve held out for too long you polly pocket. I’m telling Mr. Aizawa.”

He laughed, coming back on track and walking backwards to face you. “Tell him what? that YOU have been training after curfew?” He shook his head and clicked his tongue, “I thought you were smarter than that.”

Right as you were going to retort, you suddenly tripped over something and fell face first. You grunted with your face still on the grass.

Once he made sure you were fine, he pointed at you. "Ha! You can't even walk righ-" his sentence was cut off by you pulling him by the ankle, causing him to slip and fall as well.

He hissed and looked back at you but before he could open his big mouth, you placed one hand over his mouth. His eyes widened, you used your free hand to point towards the figure you had just seen in the distance.

It was one of the instructors patrolling around the dorms. They were far enough and barely within hearing distance, but you were still at risk of being seen.

He then acknowledged what was going on and crouched further, getting closer to you.

While the two of you were shuffling around, he accidentally stepped on your hand that was on the ground. You slightly quirked up and let out a shriek that was quickly muffled by his hand on your mouth, simultaneously dragging you onto him.

You glared up at the blond and used both of your hands to lift his off, “I will feed you Mineta’s shit if it’s the last thing I do.”

He scoffed out a laugh. "I would've loved doing it on purpose but I promise I didn't mean to." He whispered, looking down at you. It was then when you noticed how close the two of you were.

It seemed he had too because he suddenly felt a pang in his heart, you looked pretty under the moonlight. The distance between you suddenly made him conscious.

Of course though, he would rather die than admit that or acknowledge whatever he just felt. "What? are you taking in how beautiful I am?"

You thought for a second, he honestly wasn't wrong. Him with the moon behind him gave you a different look on him. His hair was gently blown by the wind and blue eyes looked calmer than ever, his cocky smile that he wore strangely seemed rather beautiful than annoying.

The longer you stared, the more you realized he wasn’t too bad of a looker, and the more nervous he got. It was fun to you. "Sort of. You're pretty when you shut that built-in bullshit radio of yours."

"Huhhh? You don't- what are you saying. I am gorgeous but- shut up! And I DON'T have a built in radio!" He stammered, barely above a whisper, unable to form coherent sentences.

Although it was dark, you could definitely tell his face reddened a thousand shades.

You laughed lowly then turned your head and rose up enough to peek over the grassy top, praying you were just paranoid and the two of you wouldn’t be found out, and luck was surely on your side that night.

You heaved a sigh of relief and got back to your previous position, only this time you misplaced your foot and ended up falling back, but not before grabbing Monoma by the shirt and tumbling down the little hill with him.

He instinctively grabbed your hand that you pulled him with and guarded your head with his other hand.

The both of you landed at the bottom, tangled and messy. He was spread on the ground with you on top, one of your legs on his stomach while your head was down on the grass beside his.

Neither of you moved for a while. All you could focus on was the sound of the little river flowing behind you.

“I know I’m irresistible but you can get off of this free bed now your majesty.” He attempted a snarky remark to build back his confidence and steady his voice, only faltering a little.

But he made no effort whatsoever to actually get you off of him. Frankly, he didn’t find it too bad being there with you, but he also didn’t want you being the first to say anything.

“Shut up.” You groaned, rolling completely off of him, but your hand still remained in his. Neither one of you dared to remove it.

And there the two of you laid sprawled on the grass doing nothing but catching your breaths for a couple of minutes.

You turned your head to look at him. You've never seen him so serene, doing nothing but heaving.

He looked back at you and quirked an eyebrow.

"You act so bold for being such a flustered wittle princess."

The blond didn't instantly have a witty comeback but just started laughing instead.

“Me? Flustered! Ha, you’re funny. That’s why your hand’s still in mine, you germ.” He teased, even though he was more than partially responsible for that and the fact he actually liked it.

You retracted it from his newly loosened grip. “How could I when it was oh so securely grasped between your delicate fingers.”

He scoffed humorously, turning to look back up at the sky. "You're so annoying. It makes me laugh, looks like you actually have a talent for something." He said in between chuckles. "Dimwit."

You couldn't help but start laughing too. "That's why I won the team battle and you didn’t. Shitface."

And every little thing that night seemed to share the same humorous sentiment.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ A/N ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

first post on here! hi. this is my second work ever, sorry if the writing’s wonky ^^.

[prythianpages]

The House of Veilwood | Eris

eris x chaos witch reader | summary: Veilwood was once a small village but when tragedy struck, only one house was left standing. A creepy, old wooden cabin that became the center of many stories and rumored to house an evil being. A story meant to scare children and keep them from wandering in the forest alone. A story both you and Eris grew up hearing that may hold more truth than both of you expected.

word count: 5.5K

warnings: mentions of scary creature

a/n: I've created some lore for chaos witch, more than I thought I would honestly. So consider this like an optional prologue. I originally wrote this only in your pov but decided it'd be fun to also include Eris and young Lucien in this! It also kind of fits Day 4 of @erisweekofficial with tradition as Eris passes the tale of the house of Veilwood to Lucien like his mother did to him and one of his hounds also makes an appearance.

Eris's POV

A scowl tugged at Eris’s lips, one that his younger brother often teased would become permanent.  One that was because of said brother—the small but mighty thorn in his side, always dragging him into some new, unwanted mischief. Today’s trouble was no different, forcing Eris to leave the warmth of his study. 

He should be reclining with a book in hand, his loyal hounds at his feet, but instead, he’s spending his afternoon, venturing into the depths of the Autumn forest.

Laika, one of his hounds, trots a few paces ahead, nose to the ground and tail wagging. She didn’t seem to mind the disruption in their routine. Her nose twitches at a scent and she glances back at Eris, eyes bright with excitement. It softens his hard expression for a brief moment.

As she leads him off the main path and toward a hidden trail, a sinking feeling settles into Eris’s stomach.

“Oh, sweet Lucien,” Eris mutters, realizing exactly where his brother was headed. 

Of course, he’d be off to Veilwood—the village that once was. All but one house was destroyed after some sort of disaster, leaving many rumors to rise such as the one that claims that something dark and wicked dwells there. Eris had grown up hearing the tales of a creature–a monster–who had a great appetite for fae who wandered into that part of the forest, particularly the young fae. 

The story had been passed down for generations, told by parents to keep their children from straying too far into the forest alone. Eris could still remember the way his mother would tell it, her voice dropping to a whisper as she described the creature’s shadow slinking through the trees. Always watching, always waiting. It was one of those stories that curled up in the back of his mind, the kind that made you think twice before venturing too far from the familiar paths.

And so, when Lucien had reached the right age, it only felt natural for Eris to pass the story on. It was practically a rite of passage, a tradition meant to instill caution. The tale had worked on Eris when he was young, keeping him close to home until he was old enough and brave enough to explore the deeper parts of the forest with a trusty hound by his side.

But Lucien was not like him. The story, rather than scaring him into staying safe, had sparked something else entirely—curiosity. 

As he trails after his younger brother, Eris can’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the simpler times. When Lucien was just a babe, more interested in drooling on Eris's shoulders than running off on reckless adventures. He remembered the days when Lucien would follow him everywhere with wide-eyed innocence, asking endless questions and clinging to him like a shadow. 

Eris had been his protector from the start, always watching over him. Something his father neglected to do and though Eris had his suspicions, he couldn’t help but feel both a sense of pity and envy toward Lucien.

There was that summer by the great Pyr River—Lucien had just turned ten, and Eris had taken Lucien fishing for the first time. It was a small tradition in Autumn, one that Beron had passed down to Eris when he was that age, and seeing as Beron gave little to no attention to Lucien, Eris took it upon himself to teach his younger brother. He showed Lucien how to wait, how to be patient, how to read the river’s current to help him catch a fish with his bare hands. It took many tries, countless mistakes, and no small amount of patience on Eris’s part, but he didn’t mind. It was all worth it to see Lucien’s eyes light up with wonder when he finally caught a fish on his own.

Those were the days when Lucien’s world was smaller, his adventures limited to the safe boundaries of their home and the woods just beyond.

But now, at thirteen, Lucien had grown bolder, his thirst for adventure outpacing Eris’s ability to keep up. Eris missed the days when his little brother’s greatest thrill was sneaking a lizard into their brother’s pudding or sneaking an extra pastry at dinner.

And yet, despite the exasperation, Eris felt that same old protectiveness stirring in his chest. Lucien might have outgrown drooling on his books and following him like a shadow, but to Eris, he would always be the little brother he had sworn to watch over.

With a resigned sigh, Eris quickened his pace.

**

The house of Veilwood looms ahead, its weathered cabin barely standing against the creeping decay of time. Lucien’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight. A cold breeze stirs the air, brushing against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck rise, the chill threatening to seep into his bones.

Suddenly, a branch snaps behind him, the sharp crack echoing through the forest. Lucien freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes dart around. Another rustle—a faint, creeping noise—sends his body into a rigid stance.

Before he can react, something barrels into him from behind, knocking him off his feet. Lucien lets out a panicked scream as he hits the leaf-covered ground, his mind racing with thoughts of sharp talons and gnashing teeth. He instinctively threw his arms over his head, bracing for the worst.

But instead of claws, something warm and wet drags across his face.

“Laika?” he gasps, his voice a mixture of relief and disgust. 

Lucien pushes himself into a sitting position, wiping the slobber from his cheek as Laika, Eris’s hound, sat proudly in front of him, tail wagging excitedly. She lets out a bark, as if pleased with herself.

He groans, annoyance flickering across his face as he spots his older brother standing a few feet away. “You followed me??” 

Eris stood with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, amber eyes glinting with amusement. “You made it far too easy. I thought I taught you better than that,” he replies with a smirk, referring to the time he had spent hours teaching Lucien how to hide his tracks and scent. He had hoped Lucien would use those skills for situations beyond hunting but now realizes Lucien still has much to learn.

Lucien’s frown deepens into a glare, but before he can utter a retort, Eris nudges him with the toe of his boot. “Up.”

Laika is the one to spring to her feet, her tail wagging even harder. “Good girl,” Eris murmurs, patting her affectionately before turning back to his brother, who was still sulking on the ground.

With a reluctant sigh, Lucien got up, brushing leaves from his pants. “I’m not a kid anymore,” he grumbles. “I don’t need to be followed like one.”

Eris arches a brow, his gaze softening slightly as he studies his younger brother. “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up, Lu. Childhood is fleeting, and once it’s gone, there’s no getting it back. Besides, you’ll have plenty of time to be an adult in the future—and then you can earn the privilege of scaring the next generation with myths of the House of Veilwood.”

Lucien’s shoulders slump, his red hair falling into his face and covering the disappointment that has no doubt settled into his face.  “So it was a myth… all of it?”

“Of course it is,” Eris chuckles. The breeze around them picks up, growing colder, but Eris was too focused on Lucien to notice. “Do you really think Father would let a creature like that roam freely in his court? It’s just an old, abandoned cabin—”

A sudden gust of wind howled through the trees, sending a shiver through both brothers. Lucien, startled, instinctively steps closer to Eris, his hand clutching his brother’s arm. Laika’s growl rumbles low in her throat, her ears perking up.

Eris’s attention snapped to the hound, his amusement evaporating as he follows her gaze. His eyes narrow as he catches sight of something swooping through the trees, its wings spread wide and casting long shadows across the ground.

“It’s the monster!” Lucien cries, pressing himself into Eris’s side, his voice high with fear.

Eris reacts quickly, one hand wrapping protectively around Lucien’s head, while the other summons a bright flame. He tracks the creature as it flies closer, his body tense, ready for a fight—until it lands on a tree branch with a soft hoot.

“It’s just an owl, Lu,” Eris says, tugging gently at Lucien’s hair. The fire in his hand fades away.

Lucien slowly pulls away from his brother, peeking out from behind his arm. His face was still pale, fear lingering in his eyes as he looks up at the creature perched above them.

“Why is it so ugly?” he mutters, his voice small.

Eris huffs out a laugh. “I’m sure it thinks the same of you.”

The owl lets out another low hoot, its round, dark eyes fixed unblinkingly on Lucien. It has him shifting uneasily, feeling the weight of its gaze pressing down on him. He turns away, squeezing Eris's arm tighter. But when his eyes flicker back to the cabin, they widen in shock.

“Someone’s inside!”

Eris follows his brother’s gaze but sees only shadows clinging to the weathered wood and windows. “You’re imagining things, Lu. No one’s lived here for centuries. The whole village is abandoned.”

But Lucien shakes his head vehemently, his hands tightening into fists. “No! I saw it—a pair of red eyes! They were looking right at me from inside the cabin!”

“I think you hit your head when Laika knocked you over,” Eris brushes off, glancing down at the hound, who waited patiently for an order. “Come on, let’s head back home.”

But Lucien stands his ground, his brows furrowed in frustration. “I know what I saw.” 

Eris sighs. 

“Alright, let’s say there is someone inside,” he pauses to cast a glance back at the cabin, amber eyes narrowing. “What do you expect me to do about it? I’m not exactly eager to knock on the door and have to interact with whatever strange being has chosen to live in the middle of nowhere like this.”

Lucien’s hands went to his hips in a posture that so perfectly mimicked their mother that Eris almost groaned aloud. He hated when Lucien did that. It was as if their mother’s spirit inhabited his little brother at that moment.

 “Are you scared?” Lucien asks, one eyebrow arching in challenge.

“No.”

“Then go knock on the door.”

“I’m not knocking on that door.”

Lucien’s eyes gleam with a hint of mischief.  “So you are scared.”

Eris glares down at him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not scared,” he insists, voice edged with irritation. “You know, if you were so brave to come here on your own, why don’t you go knock on the door?”

Lucien crosses his arms over his chest, his red hair fluttering slightly in the wind. He gives Eris a smug look. “You’re the adult here,” the younger Vanserra says and with a casual shrug that was far too cocky for someone his age, he adds: “I’m just a kid.”

Eris let out a slow breath through his nose, trying to keep his composure. He was not going to win this one and he found the grin spreading across Lucien’s face grating. It’s not that he was scared to go knocking on that door. He much rather preferred for them to head home instead of entertaining a silly myth. 

Though he hated to admit it, there was a part of him—the older brother part—that didn’t want to lose face. Lucien’s grin widens, sending his hesitation. “Go on,” he says, waving in an exaggerated manner toward the house.

“Fine.” Eris hisses out. His pride was on the line now and he wasn’t about to let his little brother win this ridiculous game. “I’ll knock on the door.” 

Both Lucien and Laika blink at him in surprise. He motions for his hound to stay put, gaze flickering between her and Lucien. A silent understanding comes between them–protect Lucien. The hound steps closer to Lucien, her nose nudging against him affectionately.

“I’ll see if whoever lives there has any appetite for a particular young fae male with russet colored eyes and messy red hair.” 

“Hey!”

Eris turns to face the cabin. The windows were dark and hollow, staring back at him like empty eyes. He squares his shoulders, every sense on high alert. If Beron were to find out he entertained this idea…he much rather the creature from the tales of the house of Veilwood to be true than for the former to happen...

As he steps forward, the wind howls again and the eerie creak of the wood makes the cabin seem even more sinister. There’s a small moat that surrounds the house, the only way to get to the door being a path of moss covered stones. It’s all like a warning–for him to stay away. 

His heart pounds in his chest, but he takes a deep breath and wills the streaming river beside the house to soothe his nerves. The owl, still perched on a nearby tree, lets out another hoot. “I’m going to knock once,” Eris says over his shoulder. “And then we’re leaving, got it?”

Though Eris can't see him, Lucien nods quickly, the younger's earlier confidence dissolving into nervous energy. Eris reaches the final moss-covered stone, his hand hovering mid-air, poised to knock. 

“Any second thoughts?”

Before Eris can respond, a sharp gust tears through the clearing, rustling the branches above and sweeping through his hair. The old, weathered door gave a sharp creak and slowly began to swing open on its own.

“Too late for that.”

Eris squints into the darkness that seems to defy the daylight. The sun should have illuminated at least part of the interior, but the shadows clung unnaturally to every surface, swallowing any hint of light. He blinks, willing his eyes to adjust.

But there’s nothing to see.

 A flicker of relief settles in his chest. “There’s no one here!” Eris calls over his shoulder to Lucien.

He steps forward, one boot crossing the threshold. The wooden floor groans beneath him. He reaches for the door, hand wrapping around the cold, rusted knob. As he tries to pull it close, the door resists, as though something on the other side is holding it back.

Eris frowns and pulls harder, but the door doesn’t budge. The stubborn resistance unsettles him, and he feels a deeper cold radiating from within the house. He lets go, deciding it wasn't worth the effort, and makes his way back to Lucien and Laika.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything?”

“There was nothing.” Eris says and then he’s playfully grasping onto Lucien’s head. ‘Now, let’s go home and get this big head of yours checked.”

Lucien pries Eris’s hands off his head and gives his older brother a shove in retaliation. “There’s nothing wrong with my head and it’s not big!”

Laika walks ahead of them, guiding them on the way back home. Lucien continues grumbling, spouting off complaints about how his head is perfectly fine and how their other brother, Reed, was the one whose head needs to get checked.

As they continue to walk away from the infamous house of Veilwood, an odd feeling urges Eris to look back. It was like a pull, a lingering unease, and against his better judgment, he turned his head.

Two glowing red eyes stare back at him from the darkened doorway.

And then he heard it. A voice–low, ancient and laden with darkness.

“Son of Autumn. It is not time to play yet. Our paths will cross in due time.”

Eris tenses and a sudden, sharp shiver runs up his spine. The door to the house slams shut with a heavy finality, locking those glowing eyes within the cursed cabin.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Lucien looks up at him, oblivious to the ominous presence. “Oh, the door slammed shut. Must be the wind, right? It’s been annoying us all day. Can we just winnow home now? My legs hurt...”

Eris doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze still locked on the house. He tears his eyes away after a moment, forcing a chuckle. “Yeah, must be the wind.” 

But the words felt hollow in his mouth and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something far darker than a simple myth lay waiting within that cabin...

Centuries later, your pov

Every night before bed, in lieu of a lullaby, your father would tell you a story. His voice was like a soothing hum, his words drawing you into a world of wonder. And when your eyes fluttered shut, those tales would blossom in your dreams, vivid and alive. There were countless stories you held dear, ones you'd ask to hear over and over again. Yet one, in particular, clung to you most tightly. 

It was not just a story—it lingered in your thoughts, haunting you like a memory half-forgotten.

The tale of the House of Veilwood.

Veilwood was the name of a forest in Autumn, just north of the town where you lived and near the great Pyr river. Long ago, before it became a dark and forsaken place, Veilwood was a small village—a humble stop for travelers passing through the court. No one could say for certain what had befallen it. Some whispered of a great fire, while others spoke of a storm so violent it swept the village clean. Whatever the disaster, it left only ruin in its wake.

Well, everything except one house.

The house remained standing, untouched by whatever tragedy had claimed the rest of the village. It had since gained a reputation as a cursed place, where something wicked lingered within its walls. Few dared to enter Veilwood, and as per your father, even fewer returned unchanged. Fear of the forest ran deep with travelers taking longer, safer paths to avoid the looming shadows that stirred within its depths.

According to your father, the heart of Veilwood harbored a creature—a massive and owl-like being with claws sharp enough to slice through flesh, and eyes like polished obsidian. In the story your father would tell you, the creature would glide effortlessly through the night sky and along the riverbank, searching for its next victim to snatch in its talons. It would lure its prey with its terrifying cry, tricking their victims by the volume of its screams. If its cries sounded distant, it meant danger was very near, contrary to what one would believe.

The creature wasn’t what haunted your mind. Rather, it was the house. You dreamt of it often. It appeared as a lonely cabin, tucked away in the tangled embrace of Autumn’s ancient woods. Though shrouded in mystery and menace, the house never frightened you. Instead, it pulled at your curiosity, inviting you to open its door. But in your dreams, there was no sign of the owl-like creature your father had described in such chilling detail. 

Only two glowing, fae-like red eyes would greet you from the shadows—and then you would wake.

As you grew older, the realization dawned that your father had mingled truth with lies to keep you from wandering into the forest. The woods of Autumn were no place for a child, after all, and though your curiosity had often led you astray, this was one warning from your father you had always heeded.

Until now.

Your breath hitches as you come to a halt, eyes widening in quiet disbelief. The house of Veilwood stands before you, exactly as it had in your dreams. 

The towering trees loom overhead, their gnarled branches twisted and tangled. Moss drapes from them like tattered curtains, swaying eerily in the breeze. The cabin is small and crooked, its steep, warped roof blending with the thick canopy of twisted trees. The weathered wood of its walls, nearly swallowed by creeping vines and patches of moss, makes it seem as if the forest itself is trying to reclaim it.

Dim, flickering lights glow from within, casting faint golden reflections on the surface of the murky swamp that surrounds the cabin like a moat. The water feeds into the streaming river nearby and laps softly against the moss-covered stones that form a crude path to the entrance. With a deep breath, you step onto the first stone, your pulse quickening. 

A shadow swoops overhead, dark and sudden, and your heart jumps into your throat. Your father's tales flood back—stories of the creature, the monster that stalks these woods. But then, as your eyes dart upwards, you catch sight of a small barn owl gliding above you, its wings silent as it perches on a nearby tree branch. 

It hoots softly, and you wonder if this simple, cute looking bird had inspired the terrifying monster of your father’s story. The owl watches you with its unblinking, beady eyes as you continue, the wind picking up just enough to stir your hair and coax you forward.

When you reach the last stone, the door swings open before you have a chance to knock.

"Y/n!"

You smooth your dress and offer a small, tentative smile. “Deirdre,” you greet the older fae woman, her features far from the sinister creature your father once described. 

But you wouldn’t dare tell him that. Your visit here was a secret, and if you wanted to avoid becoming the talk of the village—or worse, facing your stepmother’s wrath—you would have to keep it that way. 

There were many rumors about Deirdre, some so outlandish they were easy to dismiss, but others... others seemed to hold a grain of truth. Deirdre was a mysterious figure, always draped in dark, shadowy clothing that made her seem almost a part of the night itself. When she ventured into town, it was only briefly, and she kept to herself, rarely speaking to anyone. Her most frequented spot was the town apothecary, a place she visited so regularly that it drew whispers and wary glances from the other patrons.

That’s where you first met her.

You had been sifting through the shelves of dried herbs, your fingers lingering in an uncertain manner over a selection meant to ease your father’s persistent pains. The owner of the apothecary was frustratingly no help, claiming the same as the town’s healer did–that there would be nothing to ease your father’s pain. 

You must’ve looked so lost, so desperate for Deirdre’s soft, low voice interrupted your thoughts. Without hesitation, she pointed to the right herbs and then pulled a small vial full of dark liquid from her bag. "Mix these with care and intent, and he’ll find relief," is all she had said.

After she left, the apothecary owner pulled you aside, her eyes darting toward the door. “I’d stay away from her if I were you,” she warned, her voice a low hiss. “That woman is nothing but trouble.”

But you didn’t listen.

To this day, you still don’t know what had been in the vial Deirdre had given you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Deirdre’s advice worked, and for the first time in months, your father’s pain eased. So, you found yourself returning to the apothecary more often, despite your step-mother’s growing disapproval. Each time you saw Deirdre, you couldn’t resist finding an excuse to talk to her. 

There was something about her presence that intrigued you, a quiet power in the way she carried herself. It resonated with you.

The last time you crossed paths, she had slipped you a handwritten recipe for a tonic. You don’t know how she knew of your predicament but once again, you didn’t care. The tonic you brewed cured the fever that had a firm grip on your younger brother for days in an hour.  You had hoped to see her at the apothecary soon to thank her and also ask for more of the vial she had given you for your father. When days turned into weeks of not seeing her, you bribed the apothecary shop’s owner for more information about Deirdre.

And now, here you were, standing outside her secluded home. The lonely house of Veilwood, the very one from the story your father told you about.

“How did you know I was coming?” you ask.

Deirdre’s dark eyes glitter with quiet amusement. She nods toward the owl, which remains perched on a tree outside, still watching you. “Alden,” she explains, her tone light. “He’s an old friend of mine and always the first to alert me of visitors. Now come inside before the chill of the forest gets to you.”

A strange sensation washes over you as you step into the house, the thrill of the unknown mixing with the rush of adrenaline. Inside, the cabin is small but cozy. So much more alive than you ever imagined and so much more bright than it had been in your dreams.

Garlands of vines and branches criss-cross overhead, woven together with fae lights that twinkle like stars. Your gaze drifts upward to the wooden beams, where runes—ancient symbols—have been carved. The air is thick with the scent of herbs and smoke, and the warmth from the blazing hearth immediately soothes your nerves.

“My father told me stories about this place,” you comment, your voice barely above a whisper as your eyes scan the room, taking in every small detail.

“Did he now?” Deirdre’s tone carries that same hint of amusement you’d seen in her eyes. “And is it all you dreamed it to be?”

You pause, her question hanging in the air. Your eyes shift to her, but Deirdre’s back is to you as she continues her way to the kitchen. A question sits on the tip of your tongue, but instead, you say, “Well, there’s certainly no monster waiting to prey upon me here. A bit disappointing, really.”

Deirdre turns her head just enough to throw a smirk over her shoulder, her dark, raven hair swaying slightly with her movement. “My apologies. I’ll be sure to summon Caraxes next time, just for you.”

You chuckle softly, the tension in your chest easing as you take in more of the space. 

The fire crackles in the hearth, its warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. A cauldron hangs over it, the smell of something brewing, red smoke curling from its top. Above the hearth, an altar is meticulously arranged—candles, knick-knacks, crystals, and a chalice. To the right of the fireplace, is a simple wooden framed bed, the sheets and blanket a soft cream color with red embroidered swirls along the edges. 

Against the far wall stands a towering bookshelf, crammed with thick, ancient tomes that seem to pulse with forgotten knowledge. At its center, on the middle shelf, a black leather-bound book catches your eye. There’s no title on its spine, only the symbol of an eye engraved in rich gold, watching you. It feels alive, its gaze almost hypnotic, and for a brief moment, you could swear it winks.

Startled, you turn your head sharply, focusing on the left of the hearth. A long, shadowy hallway stretches farther than the cabin should allow, leading to a single, distant door. Along the walls, portraits of fae women, each bearing an uncanny resemblance to Deirdre, gaze out with knowing eyes. Every one of them wears a red pendant identical to hers. They must be her ancestors.

You feel drawn to the hall, eager to study the names beneath the portraits, but a sharp whistle from the kettle breaks your trance and pulls you back to the main room.

Deirdre gestures for you to sit at a small table by one of the windows while she prepares tea. When Deirdre returns, she sets two steaming cups in front of you, along with a plate of bread and cheese. "Tell me," she says, sitting across from you. "What troubles you, my dearie?"

You hesitate, glancing down at the tea swirling in your cup. “What makes you think something’s troubling me?”

“Not many come here without reason…” Her voice trails off, her eyes drifting toward the window. Her hand reaches up, cradling the pendant that hangs from her neck. The stone in the center glows faintly, a crimson hue that pulses with her touch. For a moment, you think you see shadows swirling around it, but then her gaze snaps back to you, sharp and knowing. 

“Do you know what I am?”

There’s a sudden lump in your throat. “Yes.”

“Do you fear me?”

“No.”

A slow smile spreads across Deirdre’s face, her eyes softening. “Good,” she says quietly, her voice like a gentle breeze. “There is nothing for you to fear.”

Your fingers curl and uncurl from your cup of tea, still left untouched. The steam still lingers, the scent of chamomile and lavender soothing your nerves. “I…,” your voice trails off, unsure and uncertain. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Deirdre takes a slow, deliberate sip from her tea, her gaze never leaving yours. She sets the cup down with an air of patience, as though she’s been waiting for this moment. “What makes you think that?”

Hesitation makes you falter for a moment. A part of you—the part shaped by your stepmother’s strict religious teachings and narrow beliefs—screams that this is wrong. That you should flee, run as far as you can from this world of strange happenings, from the unknown that threatens everything you thought you understood.

But then there’s the other part of you, the one that has always felt different, the part that resonates with your heart and finds comfort in Deirdre’s presence. Something about her calls to you, like a whisper of recognition deep in your bones, even though the words you’ve exchanged have been few.  

Her dark gaze holds yours, steady and unwavering, filled with a silent promise that there’s nothing to fear. That whatever is happening to you is not something to run from, but to understand. There’s no pity in her eyes, only understanding. You want to sink into that feeling, to let it wrap around you like the warmth of a the fireplace does…

“Things have been happening—strange things. Things I can’t explain.” The words spill out before you can stop them. “It’s like there’s something restless in me..."

"Sometimes when I’m overwhelmed, things around me shift, like the air gets thick and…trouble seems to follow.”

You lift your gaze to meet Deirdre’s. “But then you came along and for once in my life, I did something good. My father’s pains at night have subsided enough for him to get some sleep. My brother’s fever lifted quickly. The healer said that if the fever had lasted a day longer, he would not have made it…”

“How long have you been hearing the whispers in the wind?”

“For so long, I don’t even remember when it started…,” your voice trails off, surprise flickering in you. “How do you know?”

“Because I hear them too,” Deirdre replies and as an afterthought adds: “When they allow me to.”

You find yourself leaning in, muscles relaxing in relief. “How do you know what they’re saying?”

“Would you like me to teach you?”

Deirdre rises from her seat, extending her hand, and your breath catches as red magic swirls from her palm, flickering like flames along her fingertips. When you meet her gaze, she smiles at you and there’s warmth in her smile that spreads like sunlight after a storm. 

A quiet reassurance. You could say no—she wouldn’t press. But in that same smile is the promise that if you say yes, she’ll be there, like a beacon guiding you through the shadowy unknown. 

Your gaze lingers on her glowing, red hand. “Am I a witch?”

The question leaves your lips in a rush, your voice trembling slightly as you finally say it out loud.

“Only if you wish to be.” Deirdre responds gently.

Her answer sends a flutter through your chest. Only if you wish to be. Once again, you’re given a choice. It lingers in the air between you, thick with possibility, as if the very world is holding its breath, waiting for your decision.

You want to ask more, to press her for answers but you realize that this is a matter entirely up to you. The wind stirs outside, its sudden howl rattling the windows, causing branches to scrape against the glass. A shiver runs down your spine—not from the cold, but from the weight of the choice now resting in your hands.

You glance down at your own palms, your fingers tingling with the faintest hum of power, like something inside you is waking up. The flutter in your heart steadies, and suddenly, the decision feels clearer, easier than you’d expected.

“Okay,” you say, your voice stronger than before, certain.

And just like that, you take her hand, allowing her to guide you into a world you’re itching to understand.

[eris x chaos witch masterlist]

a/n: kudos to you if you got the House of the Dragon reference. I just couldn't think of another name lol. Same with the name I gave Eris's hound in this and sorry for the not so creative name I gave the house.

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

[aangelinakii]

a possible idea for your soulmates part 2 - maybe reader crosses paths with bruce wayne and has a weirdly similar experience of being unable to lie to him. if reader puts two and two together or one of them manages to get away before realisation hits - it’s up to you.

THE NIGHT SHIFT.

— what's he doing here?

summary : after batman let you off with a warning (of sorts?) you decide to lay low for a bit, lay off the house burglaries for a bit, maybe get a job in the mean time. adhering to capitalist culture and all that. however, you have an encounter with bruce wayne that leaves you just as confused as your encounter with the dark knight.

note : thank you so much for your suggestion it really helped !!!! i'm kind of thinking of continuing this 🤭 but i'd love some suggestions from here !

part one here

it wasn't ideal; getting caught, getting interrogated by the bat, not being able to mask your words with the oppsite of truths, and then getting let out. unlike your usually chaotic lifestyle, it was difficult to get your head around, even a few weeks later.

sky dark, save for the few streetlights that were dotted around the sidewalk, you pressed the button on your keys to lock your car behind you, hearing a beep to let you know it was now locked up tight.

desperate times call for desperate measures; like hitting the grocery store thirty minutes to midnight because you realised you were out of ramen packs. and to clock in to your night shift.

late nights were something you were used to, even now, as you were currently trying to stray away from robbing unsuspecting people. but it was sickening, having to give in and get a job.

fuck capitalism, really. you much preferred getting an income by pawning the goods you stole from the bourgeoisie.

even in the late, late hours of the night, the convenience stores stayed open, and there was always at least one customer in there. so you were never really alone.

you, with your plastic bag of ramen packs lingering by your feet as you stood behind the counter with a name tag pinned to your shirt. you, with almost a million dollars worth in jewellery and riches hiding in a lockbox beneath your bed at home. you, who hadn't been able to lie to the bat.

funny how things work out.

that annoying sound that chimed through the store when the doors open came again, and you glanced up, although unable to make out the figure from behind the shelves and their basebell hat, so your eyes trailed down to the cctv monitor on the till.

the footage was fuzzy, grainy, and did nothing to help you identify the customer, but sometimes it was fun to try and figure out if you've stolen from them before.

squinting to no avail, you took a step back and let out a soft sigh. sure, nights were fun, and you spent most getting up to no good, but this was tiring.

standing around, talking to people who are either high with the munchies, or are buying cigarettes. it takes a lot to not groan and roll your eyes.

as tonight's customer approached, you began to think some flavour would be added to your night shift.

from beneath that cap, you could recognise those eyes anywhere. pale blue beneath dark, mildly furrowed eyebrows, chiseled jaw and angular nose. the face from newspapers, the face from television, the face from billboards you pass each and every day.

the face you tried to steal from that night you got caught.

he placed one of the blue plastic baskets on the till, offering a polite smile, before his eyes met yours, and the expression faltered.

"good evening, sir. how are you?" you smiled, pulling the items from his basket to scan them. it wasn't every day bruce wayne came into your little supermarket. not in this part of town, anyway.

it wasn't like you had any experience being famous, but it probably was better to do your night shops away from where the paps would find you. if your personal assistant was sick.

but bruce wayne didn't give you the assumed automated reply you were expecting.

"i know you," he stated, seemingly shellshocked by what he was seeing.

eyebrows creasing slightly, your scanning paused momentarily, grip on the laundry detergent faltering. "you.. do?"

the way you spoke wasn't starstruck — like anybody would be if bruce wayne told them he knew them, for whatever reason — it was suspicious. after all, you had tried to steal from him only a few weeks ago.

what if he'd found out where you worked, and came all the way here to kill you?

his lips trembled, jaw in place as it hang slightly open, eyes still on you. "uhh..."

this guy was nothing like how he seemed on television.

he looked like he wanted to say no, but he blurted out, "yes."

brows twitching for a second, you looked down to continue scanning, placing the laundry detergent into a plastic bag. he's bruce wayne, he can pay an extra ten cents.

"i'm sorry, i don't recall." you glanced back up at him, reaching for an energy drink. "i think i would remember meeting you, sir."

"right," bruce wayne responded frigidly. if bruce wayne could be nervous, you think that's what he was right now. "of course."

but you were curious now. as you scanned and packed, you asked further. "so, mister wayne. where did we meet?"

the billionaire customer before you seemed to gulp, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his head, coming from the rim of his cap. you were making this really difficult for him, and you didn't know why.

finally, you scanned the final product — a block of parmesan — and placed it in the ten-cents plastic bag, and bruce wayne answered your question, causing you to freeze.

"you tried to steal from me."

when you finally looked up, after a moment of the deafening thrum of your racing heart in your ears, the man looked just as out of place as you. his hands were curled into fists, shaking by his sides anxiously, and his jaw was tense as his molars clenched in the back of his mouth.

sorry, i have no idea what you mean.

that's what you were supposed to say, what you'd meant to say. but the words that truly came from your lips were, "i didn't actually take anything, i hope you know."

"i know."

despite the words not being what you meant to say, and the utter horror shared on both of your poor faces, the conversation seemed to flow. you couldn't help the smile of recognition that appeared on your lips, despite yourself, and him.

"i was the one that caught you."

once again, your smile faltered, a crease forming in your forehead. bruce wayne had caught you? no, he wasn't there.

clearly what was going on here, was that he'd been to a party and had too much bubbly, decided to come here for reinforcements (to keep away a hangover). he wasn't in his right mind, and would probably benefit from you not telling anyone about this.

you dragged your eyes away from his form, a hot red flush forming upon his face.

"um.. your total will be $15.25."

wordlessly, he opened his leather wallet and placed a twenty on the counter, before grabbing the handles to the bag and walking off quickly, the doors chiming as he left, leaving you fizzing with confusion.

hey, at least you didn't have to work out the change.

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [1 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You learn the hard way what it takes to survive this new life. 

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, More tags to be added

A/N: i had too much fun with this concept so i decided to stretch it out into more than one part! i really hope you guys enjoy.

“You understand what I’m telling you, Sweetmeat?” He says, tapping the underside of your chin with the flat of his blade. His bright blue eyes seem to dance with amusement. “I’m telling you to run.” You jump, gasping as he turns the sword with a flick of his wrist, bringing it down in one smooth motion to cut the thick length of rope between your outstretched hands. It falls to the dry grass between your feet, and he straightens back up in the saddle. The massive Clydesdale paws impatiently at the dirt as he laughs again.

“Run.” 

You do, with the orc-pack’s laughter burning in your ears. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you sprint. You gather your dusty skirts up around your knees as you make for the tree line. The sound of a horn spurs you onward. 

“The river, Sweetmeat!” His voice carries to you from across the hill. “You’ve only to make it to the river!”

Dry branches tear at your face and clothes as you force your way into the brush. The fear disorients you, but only for a moment. They will run you down if you take the path, sure as daylight. Instead, you make the choice to stick to the trees, moving between them as quietly as you can. You’d seen what the blue-eyed-orc had done to the others—one by one offering them the same choices— 

Run and die. Run or die—

No one got to live.  

It made a sick sort of sense, you supposed, if you used Orc-logic. They were weak—unworthy of the water it would take to sustain them, of the burden it would take for a rider to bear them. You had watched as first the baker’s boy, then the cobbler, and then the smithy each followed the blue-eyed-orc’s instruction, stumbling down the mountain path and disappearing into the trees—only to be brought back at dusk, their remains thrown to the wargs.

Your father had been good for little else but finding his next ale, but he’d paid his guild taxes same as everyone. And a fat lot of good it did him. The few soldiers stationed at the outpost nearest your village had been felled laughably easily, almost as easily as your father. And now he was gone, and you were here, a day’s ride south of the charred remains of your village.

The horn blows behind you a second time, and you swallow your terrified sob. No—you mustn’t panic. It is fear and panic that will get you caught. Your mother’s voice rings in your ears. Find green, she whispers as you crawl through the trees. Find green.

And you will find water.

The trees aren’t dead, not really, not at the roots. There’s thick brown moss growing at the roots, between the sparse patches of dry grass. You fall to your knees, ripping at it. The top layer is dry and brown, flaking away easily under your fingernails. But underneath—

Green. 

The sound of hoofbeats approaching on the nearby path quickens your step. North—the river is north. You gather what is left of your torn skirts in your hands, trying to stay low and quiet. You have seen the thick-shafted arrows strapped to the backs of the broad-shouldered orc warriors, and you’ve no desire to feel them bury themselves in your back. 

“Fan out!”

Half-blind you push forward, your own ragged breath deafening in your ears. You’re not going to make it—there is no river, there never was, there’s nothing for you to find out here, nothing—

And then you see it. 

The river is drawn back from the bank, a shrunken skeleton of itself—but it is here. From the width of the bank and the depth of the riverbed, you can tell it was once a mighty thing, now tamed by the unending drought. The red clay is dry and crumbling beneath your bare feet as you stumble toward the water. It is cool on your feet as you splash into it, your feet sinking into the mud. 

There is a sound like a whistle, like a switch splitting the air before it parts skin, and an arrow sinks into the wet clay by your feet. 

“Don’t stop now, Sweetmeat. You’re so close.” The voice is taunting, and hatefully familiar. Slowly you turn, and the blue-eyed-orc is there on the bank. His bow drawn, another arrow already nocked.  You stare at one another, your heart pounding in your chest. You wait for him to draw back the bow, to loose the arrow—he doesn’t. After a moment, he lowers it. 

“Brave little thing, aren’t you?” He asks, cocking his head. “You’re not going to run?” 

“No.” You don’t want to die like your father—cowering, with an axe between his shoulder blades that he never saw coming. “I would see my death.” The blue-eyed-orc grins, one sharp fang hanging over his lip. 

“Oh?” To surprise, he stores the arrow back in its quiver, and takes a step closer. “You’ve no weapon to meet it.” 

“It will come whether I’ve steel or none.” You match his step, taking one further back into the river. The muddy water laps at your calves, soaking into your dress. Over the sound of rushing water and the thunder of your own heartbeat, you hear the horses. The riders approach lazily, slowly, like they know you’re cornered. 

You are. 

The pack doesn’t interfere; don’t come any closer than twenty or thirty paces from the riverbank, content to watch as the blue-eyed one circles you like a wolf. 

“Not going to beg, either, I imagine.” He says, and trembling, you shake your head. You’re up to your knees in water now, your skirts soaked and dragging in the current. You are expecting him to unsheathe the massive, hooked axe on his back, to bring your death down upon you swiftly—but he does not even reach for it. Instead, he reaches for your face, cupping your chin in his huge hand. 

“What are you called?” When you answer, he rolls your name around in his mouth like mead. He turns your head this way and that, like someone inspecting an animal for sale. You know he must feel it, the race of your pulse under his fingertips. After a moment, he pulls back, directing his sharp gaze over his shoulder. 

“Bring a horse for her, Buck.” He says, licking his lips. You watch as a ripple passes through the pack at the impact of his decision.

“What—what are you doing?” You ask hoarsely, your teeth still clenched tight with fear. He grins at you over his shoulder as he makes for the bank.

“A deal’s a deal, Sweetmeat,” he replies, beckoning you to follow. “You get to live.” 

to be continued

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