#emmaline white

[dexterouslycharming]

Helpless Hearts

Word Count - 1,449 words

Date Posted - 01/13/2024

This is an OC fic, Canon characters are included, but it will primarily be about my ocs, read at your own discretion

Chapter One - Conflict

Augustine Ella, the eldest daughter of Cinder And Kit Ella and the older sister of Ashlyn Ella had always dreamed of following in her mother's footsteps and becoming the next Cinderella. To be swept off her feet by a handsome prince and live her happily ever was a destiny she was lucky to be born into, a destiny only a select few had the joy of having. With a dreamy sigh, the girl flopped onto her bed, staring up at her ceiling, a notebook clutched to her chest. Life couldn't get any better for her, at least it didn't seem that way. She had the fairy best friends a princess could ask for in Oleander Beauty and Emmaline White, the son of Sleeping Beauty and the daughter of Snow White respectively, and was even lucky enough to have her very own prince charming in that of her loving boyfriend, Dexter Charming. She also had the best and most supportive younger sister and a loving duo of parents. She seemed to be leaving the dream life, and if that was the case, Augustine hoped to never wake up. 

A knock at her door pulled the princess from her thoughts, and she brightened up even more as Dexter poked his head in. “Dexter!” She cheered, sitting up and tossing the notebook aside. The girl made her way to the door, fully opening it and giggling as Dexter swept her up in a hug and spun her around. “What're you doing here? I thought you were spending the day dragon training with Daring?” She asked as he kissed her on the cheek. 

The prince gave a small shrug, setting her down and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “He's with Oleander and Sylvester doing sword training. . . I didn't really want to be there.” Dexter admitted a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“They're sword training? And didn't invite me?” Augustine huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Usually when Daring, Oleander and Sylvester did sword practice, she was invited, well she and a few other people including Daring's younger sister and Dexter's twin, Darling Charming. The two girls were proficient with swords, Augustine having learned from a very young age how to handle herself with a blade. Her father, Kit, made sure to teach her as soon as she was old enough to safely hold a sword in her hands. 

Dexter laughed, shaking his head at his girlfriend's upset attitude. “I don't think they really planned on starting up sword practice, it just kinda happened, Auggie. Do you want me to take you down there so you can join?”

She shook her head, taking his hand and dragging him to her bed where they both sat down. “No, I'd much rather be here with you.” She purred, laying her head on his chest and cuddling up next to him. The girl was absolutely smitten with Dexter, his awkward, clumsy nature seemingly being very enchanting. She prayed he was her prince charming, the one she was destined to be with for her happily ever after. It just had to be true, a love like this had to be meant to be, didn't it? There was no way she and Dexter were this in love and it wasn't what the StoryBook of Legends had in store for them. “Dex, do you ever wonder what the rest of our lives are going to be like?” She asked wistfully, looking up at him with love sparkling in her green eyes. 

Dexter gave her a small, loving smile, “I don't really have to wonder, I know it'll be perfect because I'm with you.” He said, his face turning a dark red after he spoke. A nervous laugh escaped his lips and he looked away from the girl cuddled up next to him. “I guess that's a little too cheesy. . .” 

“No it's not. I think the same thing.” Augustine reassured, gently turning his head towards her again. She gave him a soft smile, before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. Dexter immediately melted as Augustine kissed him, quickly wrapping his arms around her and kissing the princess back. All his worries seemed to melt away, and it was clear to Augustine that he had calmed down a little as she pulled away. “All better?” She asked, her face still mere inches away from his. 

Dexter nodded, his face still flushed a dark red. He gently went back in for another kiss, something Augustine quickly leaned into. The moment seemed to last forever between them, that is until Dexter’s Mirror Phone began to ring. He pulled away, letting out a sigh. Fishing his phone from his pocket, Dexter quickly answered it with an apologetic look at his girlfriend. 

“Yes - yes Daring. . . I'm with Auggie? No, we're still on campus” He said, Daring being inaudible on the other end, “yeah I can be there soon. . . I know, I won't skip out on it I promise.” He went silent for a few moments as Daring seemingly spoke for a good length of time on the other end. Augustine ran her hands through her hair, trying to strain her ears to hear whatever Daring was saying but it was to no avail. “Ok, bye.” Dexter finished, hanging up the phone with a heavy sigh. “I've gotta go help with the dragons now apparently. I'm sorry, Auggie.”

Augustine gave a sad smile and sat up all the way, “It's ok, I knew you'd have to leave at some point.” She said with a sigh, walking her boyfriend to the door. The two said a quick goodbye, with Dexter giving Augustine one last kiss before disappearing down the hallway. Augustine went and sat back on her bed, picking up the discarded notebook and opening it up. Inside were many discarded, half finished stories written by her. She had been working on them right before Dexter had gotten there. The girl picked up a pen off her nightstand and moved to begin writing again, but the door swung open once more, revealing the raven black hair of Emmaline, who looked fairy, fairy mad. 

Augustine blinked, closing her notebook, “Emma, are you ok?” She asked, only to have Emmaline's angry glare focused on her. Augustine swallowed hard, almost immediately figuring out what was wrong. 

“Why was he here, again?” Emmaline asked, anger burning in her voice. She was referring go Dexter, whom she had run into in the hallway, or at least Augustine assumed she had. 

“Because he's my boyfriend. He's allowed to be here.” Augustine huffed back. 

“. . . He can't be your boyfriend Augustine, you're betrothed.” 

“Emmaline you know Oleander and I haven't been betrothed for months now! What's your issue?” 

Emmaline quickly grabbed Augustine's arm, her eyes flashing for a brief moment with anger. “He's your destined prince, you have to be with him! You know Dexter isn't going to fulfill your destiny!” She hissed, her nails digging into Augustine’s arm. 

Augustine's eyes darkened, and she pulled her arm away, causing a bit of her skin to tear and begin to bleed. "He's not the prince in my story, Emmaline! You, of all people, should know that!" Augustine growled back, stepping away from her friend, "You're the one who wants to run away with someone who you know for sure isn't your prince charming. . .maybe you should think about that yourself before coming after me when you don't even know the truth." Augustine finished speaking, her voice coming out a mere hiss at her last words. 

Emmaline balked, eyes wide and tears forming in them. Augustine had delivered a low blow, knowing Emmaline didn't have a story. . . Her younger sister Apple somehow ended up obtaining the destiny to be the next Snow White, something that made Emmaline irrationally angry, something Augustine knew would hurt her. She didn't say anything, there was nothing to say. . .at least for a few seconds. “But Oleander still loves you!” Emmaline blurted out, knowing it was almost one hundred percent a lie. Everyone at Ever After knew Oleander Beauty was sorely in love with C.A Cupid. 

“Now you're just making up fairy bad lies.” Augustine said, pulling herself up from her bed and beginning to tend to her bleeding arm. “I'm going to leave. I can't stand to look at you.” She said angrily, “A good friend would support me and my relationship, I guess you’re not a fairy good friend, Emmaline.” And with that, Augustine walked out of the room, headed to find a certain cricket who just might be able to give her some decent advice. 

[bebemoon]

look for the name: EMMALINE

@boxofdicks

saint laurent white off-the-shoulder lace-trimmed silk maxi dress 

{hair + beauty} myrna loy, c. 1929

ted noten “superbitch” bag, c. 2ooo

edwardian-era diamond platinum choker necklace

byspirit “vamp” ankle strap ankle boot

[minisinmedia]

Emmaline Henry as Nora Grady wearing really tight, super short white short shorts/hot pants on the relatively lost 1964 TV series Mickey, starring Mickey Rooney as Mickey Grady

[thegriffinpuff21]

DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY REMUS AND DORCAS FANFICS PLEASE?? I AM IN MAJOR SEARCH OF THEM! PREFERABLY WHERE DORCAS IS AFRICAN AMERICAN

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

You're early.

Your little knock on the door sends him into a spiral of panic, brain splitting in half, trying to figure out if he can hide his mortifying failure from you and still save dinner.

You knock again.

"Hey, sorry, I know we're early but-" You peel off with a sniff, nose wrinkling slightly, lips tucking together. You're wearing a lip stick, or a lip gloss, or something? And your hair is done. "Is something burning?"

"No!" He blurts. "No, uh. I'm just... cooking. Come in, come in."

He did actually, burn dinner. He burnt it so bad he had to order delivery, Thai on the fly, much to your excitement, and he files the knowledge of one of your favorite foods away for the future. The two of you eat together, little bits and pieces being given to Emmaline from your finger, and by the time you're finished, he's nearly worked up the nerve to start talking.

"So..." your voice trails, awkwardly, and you glance at him before looking away, finding a spot on the wall to study. Here goes nothing.

"I ah, wanted to explain, my behavior... from the other night." He starts, rubbing the nape of his neck. You watch him expectantly, Emmaline on your lap, and when he falters, you give him an encouraging nod.

"I'm listening."

"How I reacted, how I spoke to you was... unfair. It was cruel and I never want to make you upset, like that." You nod. "What I do- my job- it's... it can be dangerous. Stressful. Our last mission was difficult and I... operate in a different headspace at work. It's what keeps me alive. Makes me good at what I do." Skip the killing part, LT, Soap's voice reminds him, and he pushes on. "I was still decompressing, when you came to the door and I didn't want you to see me... like that."

"With your war paint." You quip, and he pauses, head cocked. "You had black stuff, around your eyes?"

"Yes, with my war paint. I didn't want you to..." He loses it for a second, flailing in the wind, mind scrambling as he tries to put the words together. Just say it. Tell the truth. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I don't think I could stand it. It's no excuse but, I guess, I thought you deserved an explanation."

"You're right." You say slowly. "It's not an excuse." You sigh, twirling a fork through the last of your noodles. "I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I just... it's hard you know. To put yourself out there, when you're a single mom. And a widow. I thought, maybe... you didn't-"

"I do." He cuts you off. "I... you and Emmaline, you're the best things that have happened in a long time. I-"

"Oh my god!" you gasp, and he instinctually startles, muscles going stiff as he surveys the flat.

"What?"

"It's snowing! Sorry, just uh..." You're already standing, hand half reaching towards him, excited smile on your face. "Emmaline's never seen snow before, can we... this is her first winter." You explain, and then move towards the balcony, fidgeting with his door lock, huffing in frustration when you can't figure it out.

"I got it." He says, not mentioning that it's custom, and slides it free, pushing the door wide so you can go outside. You're vibrating with joy, smile wide and big, and even Emmaline feels it, watching her mum, little face lit up the same as yours.

"Look, baby. Look!" You point, and then cup your palm, letting fat white flakes fall into your hand, tilting to show Emma, and she cackles with excitement, pudgy hand slapping against yours, bringing the melting snow to her mouth. You laugh with her, staring back up at the sky before glancing over to where he stands in the doorway, enraptured. The snow is caught in your hair, on your nose, in your eyelashes, the same as the baby, both of you glowing on his fucking balcony like angels on earth, sent to him from someone up there who might love him.

"Thanks, mum." he whispers to himself, to her, ducking inside to grab the blanket from the couch so he can wrap the two of you up in it to keep you at least a little warm and protected from the elements. "I wish you could have met them."

When he reappears, you're still catching flakes, this time with your tongue, hardly paying attention until he's settling the blanket on your shoulders and stepping back to watch, content to try to memorize every single second.

"Come here." You call, extending a hand, wiggling your fingers. "Try to catch one on your tongue." But he can't move.... he's too stunned, standing there before you, staring, and it gives you pause. "Simon." You whisper, head tipped back. The balcony lamp reflects in your eyes, snowflakes and yellow shine glowing back at him, the entire world lit up inside them, and his hand finds your cheek, cupping it with his bare palm, thumb stroking across the velvet that is your skin.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry." His voice sounds thick, fractured, and you smile, leaning into him, Emmaline's warm weight between your bodies.

"I know... I... I understand now." You look away, for a second, taking a deep breath before blinking rapidly, tears just barely there on your waterline. "I can't... losing Emma's dad, before she was even born I- I can't... I don't want to go through anything like that again, Simon. I'm scared." It's a confession, horrifying and real, terrified and heartbreaking. All he can do is tell you the truth. Tell you what he feels. What he knows.

"You don't have to be scared." He murmurs, low and soft, other hand coming to gently support Emmaline's back. "Not with me. I promise you." What is he doing, what is he doing, what is he- what is he promising? To live forever? To never hurt you? To never let either of you be hurt? To claw his way back to you, even in death?

He looks down at you, at Emma, and the world freezes. He sees everything so clearly, the image of his future, of yours- a little house with a yard, another baby. Emmaline a big sister, so proud and excited. All of you tucked away somewhere secret and safe.

He takes a deep breath, exhale crystalizing in the air, water vapor falling like a halo around you, and his confession comes unbidden, so easily given to you. "I want to kiss you."

"Okay." You answer, and then he moves, closing the gap, slowly pressing his lips to the warmth of yours, blood pooling beneath his skin, heat flowing between your bodies. You taste like heaven, mouth sweet and easy for him, parting with a tiny gasp, and it overpowers him to the point where he thinks his knees might give out. He can't help but hold your closer, arm tightening around your back, finger stroking down the length of your spine-

Emma cries. It's not really a cry, more like a little shout, and you pull away abruptly, giggly expression on your face.

"What's wrong baby girl." He hums, patting her back, tucking the blanket tighter around your arm and her body.

"I think she's upset she's going to have to share you. You're her favorite nowadays, you know." You tease, and his grin is so heavy on his face, but so light at the same time, something completely foreign and wild, the breadth of happiness something he hasn't felt in so many years. "And she's probably cold."

"Should we go inside?" He motions, somewhat relieved to get both of you out of the cold, and when you nod, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"We should."

[bona-fide-clown]

I know that Emmaline Butternubbins from thisisnotawebsite.com is a white lady but something about taking down an evil cult by YOURSELF? Screams black excellence

[theyrealllesbians]

Wedding Season- Chapter 1

Regulus paced up and down his hotel room, tangling his finger in the black rubber of the phone cord he was currently speaking in to.

"What do you mean there's another one, I swear I've already had 5 this month and I don't even like that many people," Regulus said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger. The gesture vaguely reminded him of stale office air and a blue-light induced migraine. He dragged his hand down his face to fiddle with the silver necklace that rested above his sternum instead. The cold metal was soothing as he ran a finger along the pendant and chain.

"Oi, don't be rude, dickhead," Sirius cut in, for some reason feeling the need to defend both his and Regulus's friends. Despite the fact that Regulus, for the most part, was joking. He was sure that Sirius already knew this, he just saw an opportunity to have a pop at Regulus. Regulus just rolled his eyes and ignored him.

"I mean, doesn't it get a bit impersonal after a while. It's meant to be the best day of your life and yet you'll probably just spend most of the time wishing you weren't speaking to the neighbour you had 3 years ago whose dog just got put down. I'll never understand it." Regulus fell back onto his bed, letting his legs swing up dramatically before landing with an umph against the duvet.

"Literally!" Sirius exclaimed, unnecessarily passionate about the issue, "that's why when me and Moony get married, it'll be small. Full of people we love and-"

"Yeah, yeah, you've said, save me the boredom and the minutes why don't you?" Regulus interrupted. He wasn't even being dramatic, Sirius was starting to sound like a broken record crackling out random facts about flowers and venues and cakes and suits and whatever else went into planning a wedding.

"Again rude! Honestly you have no manners at all, young man-"

"Don't call me young man, you cunt, you sound like father." Regulus remarked, shuddering at the thought.

"Ew, don't say that!" Sirius all but yelled down the phone, forcing Regulus to drag the earpiece an arms length away from him. Even then, he could still hear Sirius as clear as anything. Truly remarkable if you thought about it. Regulus let Sirius carry on for at least a couple minutes more, blabbering about whatever it was he had to say before cutting in.

"Anyways! Let's go back to why you called me originally. There's another invitation?" Regulus asked, rolling onto his stomach.

"Yep, Emmaline Vance apparently. It's very pretty, I'll give her that. Duck egg blue and white details, nice font as well. The contrast is a little low though, this is why me and Remus chose-" Honestly, his brother could go on and on if given the chance. He could probably talk for Britain if asked. He'd get the country in quite a bit of trouble, but he could do it.

"Sirius" Regulus sang down the phone.

"Yes, yes, I was getting there, chill out. Yeah apparently it's in August, the 15th. God, that's a bit short notice isn't it. Well, I suppose it'll be fine." Sirius was back to chattering to himself.

"What?" Regulus sat up suddenly as if a bolt of lightning had struck him. "It's in 3 weeks? How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"Well you have a suit don't you?"

"Of course I have a suit. I don't have a date though." It had been 5 months since he had broken up with the last piece of shit he called a boyfriend. While it had only been a 3 month relationship, it hit Regulus harder than it should have and it's taken him a while to get back out there, much to Barty and Evan's disappointment. He just didn't care to go through the whole dating process again. It was tiring and boring, he couldn't stand to hear one more "so are you and your brother close?" because he actually could not answer that. No way in hell could he sum his and Sirius's relationship up in a way that wouldn't send someone running for the hills.

"Well, you don't need a date, you could go alone?" Sirius suggested through a mouth of what Regulus guessed was cake.

"No, I can't." He replied matter of factly.

"Why? give me a good reason why you can't go to a wedding alone." Sirius spluttered out, clearly still eating.

"Because everyone looks at me with so much pity, it's horrible. Or worse, people try and hit on me."

Sirius choked, "that's a bit cocky, don't you think?"

"No I don't think that is is actually," Regulus bit back, "not after I had to spend 3 hours with one of the Prewett's stroking my knee asking if I was looking for 'a night to remember'. I can't do that again Sirius, I can't." Suppressing a gag, Regulus shuddered and tried to fight the need to claw at his knee to try and remove the memory. It's not that it was bad per say, it was just horrible and awkward. He did actually quite like the Prewett's. Fabian was quite attractive as well, very muscular with heavy bone structure. His hair was always enticingly fluffy as well, he just wasn't Regulus's type.

By all means, Regulus did not know exactly what his type was, but he knew that it wasn't someone who'd breathe horrible pick up lines in his ear. He wanted someone who could make him laugh, and that was nice. Most importantly, he wanted someone who would respect his boundaries and understand that he was a lot more sceptical than the average person. Past boyfriends did not understand this, leading them to break up after Regulus wouldn't introduce them to his family, or wouldn't move in after a year. It was things like that that would send them running, claiming that Regulus wasn't serious about them. This was never true though, he always cared too much and was dealt a broken heart to mend.

"Yeah, okay." Sirius seemed to consider it a bit deeper, "that's fair enough I guess. Why don't you go with Barty?"

"He's already going with Evan." Regulus let the hand that wasn't holding his phone fall onto his forehead, looking as if he was a damsel in distress.

"Okay? I'm sure you could trick people into believing you were a throuple." Sirius suggested, "remember that rumour that went round in 5th year that all you lot were in a poly relationship. God, that was funny. I think there was an entire week where I couldn't walk down the corridor without laughing my head off about whatever people were theorising about." Sirius was laughing now at the memory. It was a stupid rumour and the reason it had started was even stupider. There was a ravenclaw girl who had a massive crush on one of the opposing rugby players that seemed a bit too close to Regulus for her liking. So, the next morning, she said that she'd heard that he, Barty, Evan and Pandora were all together, and it seemed to do the trick. The guy didn't speak to him anymore and she had ended up going to some party with him. Regulus would never admit it, but he was slightly impressed by her, she knew what she wanted and tried to get it. Besides, he was still able to get a good laugh out of it.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Irritation was showing in his voice, he just needed a solution. "Can you actually help me?"

"I am helping!" Sirius exclaimed.

"You are not helping. Making me more miserable does not help." Regulus rubbed his eyes, feeling them getting more and more tired as the conversation went on. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table seeing it read 10:24 pm. He could stay up a little longer, but he had a long day tomorrow. This potential buyer had insisted Regulus come to France to see this space he wanted the painting for. He had said that if Regulus could "truly envision the space then he'd be able to make the best decision on which painting could fill the wall and truly heighten the aura of the room." Regulus thought it was a load of shit, but this was his job, and he technically had 3 days in Paris to 'scout potential artists', which was an opportunity he'd never pass up.

"Quit whinging. What about Pandora?"

"Please tell me how that would work. Everyone knows I'm gay." Why did he decide that Sirius was the best to go to for advice. Oh that's right, he didn't, Sirius called him because apparently being asked to water his plants while Regulus was away was enough of a reason to go through his post as well. "I'll hang up."

"Okay, okay fine! You need more friends."

"To use as back up wedding dates?" Regulus asked incredulously, narrowing his eyes as if Sirius could see his face.

"Exactly!" as if it was obvious. "We do it all the time. Oh!" Sirius exclaimed as if he'd just had the greatest idea of the century. "You could go with James, I don't think he's going with anyone."

Regulus's stomach errupted with butterflies. His anxiety crawled into his chest and forced him to choke out a "pass." He didn't really have a reason for being so unsettled by the idea. James had never been anything but nice to him, treating him as anyone would expect him to. Sometimes Regulus found him a bit overbearing as well as being unnervingly immature for a 26 year old. But he was Sirius's best friend, so what could he realistically expect.

"Right well, I can't help you." Regulus could imagine that Sirius had crossed him arms over his chest, a firm pout on his face.

"Apparently not. I may as well just not go." Regulus resolved. He was awfully busy, trying to hunt down artists and attend auctions. Besides his website had just launched internationally and he needed to observe the orders going out. The list of things he had to do relating to the gallery seemed never ending, so maybe it wouldn't be the worst idea in the world to skip one wedding.

"No, you can't." Sirius whinged, "cause then I have to answer everyone's questions about you and I don't wanna do that. It's so boring. 'Yes, he's left the law firm. No I don't really know why. Yes, he's moved back here. Sorry he can't date your granddaughter, he's gay." Sirius said, putting on his best polite voice, which made Regulus laugh into the back of his hand.

"But if I go, and that's an if! Where on earth am I supposed to get a date in the next three weeks?" Regulus asked, trying to rack his brain to see if there were any friends he could ask a favour of.

"Dating apps? You don't need to find a prince, just someone who won't embarass you for an evening. Simples." Sirius responded as if it was obvious.

"Are you an idiot? I don't think you realise what dating apps are like, they're horrific" Regulus shuddered remembering the few times he had forced himself to entertain the thought of meeting someone through a dating app.

"Oh, come off it. They cannot be that bad." An unsure tone crept into Sirius's voice, almost as if he didn't believe his own words.

"You're just lucky that you met Remus in high school. You didn't have to mess around with the modern dating world." Regulus would never admit it, but he was deeply jealous of Sirius. He wanted the type of cosy relationship that they had; overlapping friend groups and friday evenings to themselves. He didn't think he'd ever be that fortunate though.

"I know, aren't I just the luckiest." Sirius replied dreamily. Regulus just rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes. You are. Anyways, I'm just going to have to suck it up and figure something out. I still think that not going is an option. I mean, I never really spoke to Emmaline. I doubt she'd even notice if I was missing." Regulus contemplated.

"Well, I'd mind. You need to come. That's final." Sirius's stern voice rang through the phone, guaranteed to make an impact on every person on earth but Regulus. He's heard it too many times about too many ridiculous situations to warrant taking it seriously. "Besides, I'm sure everyone will be happy to see you."

Regulus's scowl fell from his brows as he forced out a, "fine." Maybe it would be fun. "Either way, it's getting late here. So I'm gonna go." Regulus moved to lie against the headboard.

"Yeah, fair enough. Well I'll see you when you're back."

"Yeah you will, bye." Regulus moved to put the phone back in it's holder.

"Love you!" Sirius yelled before he could hang up.

Regulus rolled his eyes before putting the phone back next to his mouth. "Love you too."

After hanging up, he rolled over in bed thinking of what he was going to do for this wedding. He'd have to download some sort of dating app again and pray that he'd be able to find someone half decent, which he seriously doubted. Ah well, that'd be a problem for the future.

As he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of firm hands and fluffy hair that would somehow ease the loneliness that crept into his heart. Well that's a new feeling. He hadn't felt lonely in months.

God, he really hated wedding season.

[yanderu-deredere]

hook.

★ your friends decide to do a road trip across a few states, to the coast! what's better than the beautiful boardwalk of lovelock after all? and they need a fifth person to come with them! so, of course, they drag you along. what could go wrong?

a/n: okay so ill be honest, i was kinda nervous to post this cus this is like way longer than my usual shit TBH but i really wanted to write this out and i felt like the usual bulletted thing wouldn't do my idea justice i guess? so have this word vomit LOL cus this baby has more parts (i think)

also these yanderes are very much inspired by all my favourite slashers (think hannibal meets chainsaw massacre meets house of wax) so the themes will be a bit more graphic

part one (here) ★ part two (line.) ★ part three (sinker.) ★ part four (?)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 3236

warning: gender neutral reader, reader is attacted to male and female yandere, readers friends are lowkey pieces of shit LOL, final ship is poly

"This doesn't look like Lovelock." Chloe muttered in that tone that just slightly grated against your nerves.

You, half asleep and kind of buried in bags, jolted at the sound of her voice. You glanced around, eyes blurry and your brain pounding just a little bit. The price of sleeping on a road trip, you supposed.

You looked over to the side to see what your friends were up to.

Chloe, the resident bottle-blonde of the group, had her entire body leaning a bit too heavily against her boyfriend Dirk as she tried to shove her torso out the window.

Dirk, too preoccupied with her body to really pay attention to anything else, only hummed and held her by the hip to prevent her from falling entirely out the side of the van.

You sighed and turned to your other side, trying to make out what your friend was so desperate to see outside.

All you could see, however, was what looked like an abandoned town. There was a little play ground, a parking lot beside that, some apartment buildings too--

Suddenly, the van skid to a halt, making everyone almost fall forward.

"Bran, you fucking bastard!" Dirk cursed before cradling Chloe's head to his chest "You okay, baby?"

Chloe, of course, played the whole thing up, whining up a storm. You just rubbed your neck, ignoring everyone else as you tried to figure out why the sudden stop.

In front of the car was a man much too well dressed for his surroundings. I mean, what business did he have in this place that he needed to wear a button down for? Plus he had what looked like a medical mask on?

What did you guys drive into, Chernobyl?

Anyway, you couldn't see the rest of his face very well because he had long hair with white side pieces and they were covering his face a bit too much but he was waving the van down.

Suddenly, as you were peering out the side of the van, your eyes met his sharp green ones and you felt a jolt of electricity down your spine.

You had a bad feeling about this place and about this man.

Still, not like you could say much. Who'd listen to you? Certainly not anyone else inside the van.

The man walked up to the driver's side, probably to talk to your friend Bran and give him directions. Thankfully, you were on the same side so you could do a little bit of eavesdropping on your own from your open window.

Observing him, you couldn't help but think that he was especially tall. He looked like he could almost be as tall as the van itself! You'd estimate his height at 6ft at least.

You couldn't even imagine how small you were compared to him if the two of you stood side by side.

"You're not supposed to be here. This is private property." The stranger explained and, though he was talking to Bran, you couldn't help but feel like he kept glancing at you from the corners of his eyes "You have to turn back and leave."

Now that he spoke, you also noted how deep his voice was. Though, you supposed, not surprising considering his height.

Big man, deep voice, you noted to yourself before mentally laughing at your own idiocy.

"What? There's no other way?" Bran's indignant tone pulled you out of your thoughts "I was so sure there was a way through here, up to Lovelock."

The stranger solemnly nodded as if completely understanding "There used to be but, after they shut down the factory, the Pharmaceutical company prevents people from passing through here."

Bran seemed to open his mouth to say something inflammatory. After all, he was known in your group to be a bit hot-headed. Even now, you couldn't see his face but you could imagine how red it was.

Kathy, Bran's girlfriend and your best friend, thankfully leaned over from the front passenger seat, her hand rubbing her boyfriend's thigh "It's all good! Sorry for the trouble and thanks for letting us know."

The man gave a curt nod "Just didn't want you all to incur the fines. The company still has the cameras up and there was a sign at the entrance saying something about trespassers."

"What are you, a glorified security guard?" Bran managed at least one quip and you saw Kathy hit him especially hard on the knee for that one.

You couldn't see the man's mouth from under the mask but you definitely felt like you could see his lips shift into a grin from under the cotton "Something like that."

Bran just scoffed and started backing the van up. The man backed away, giving a curt nod.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Kathy conspiratorially whisper 'crazy weirdo' to you, Dirk and Chloe. Of course, you elected to ignore her.

Instead, you kept your eyes trained on the stranger, still curious as to why he was there.

When his eyes landed on you, you gave him a curt wave. A good-bye. Silently, you mouthed an apology for your rude friend. He gave another curt nod, and you left it at that.

Something about his green eyes unnerved you though--

There was a loud pop and the van jolted, making almost everyone inside scream. Bran himself let out a rather loud fuck!

"What the fuck was that?" He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, that explosive temper getting the best of him.

You watched as the stranger came over and looked at the car, observing it a bit before letting out a rather tired sigh "You popped a tire."

Bran's head swiveled to him and, if looks could kill, that man would've been dead "A tire?"

"This place is abandoned, they don't exactly up-keep the roads." The man explained, crouching to try and see what was wrong with said tire "You must have run over a rusty nail or an especially bad pothole."

Then there was a thumping sound, like he was ripping something out of the rubber "Or a giant copper hook."

Bran slammed his door open and marched over, getting to the tire just as the man stood up.

You watched it all happen and you've known Bran for a while. The two of you were taking the same undergraduate major, after all. You knew Bran was the sporty type, confident and cocky. He was maybe 5'8 on a good day.

This man dwarfed Bran when he stood. Definitely taller than 6ft then. Maybe 6'5?

He placed the hook he took out of the tire into Bran's hand and, though it looked rather hefty in Bran's hand, it seemed a bit smaller in his.

Any bravado Bran had vanished like the wind. Of course, Bran was still Bran so he grumbled, complaining as he dropped the rusty thing before he squatted down to figure out what was wrong with the tire.

You saw Kathy from the corner of your eye dialing a number. You figured it was probably triple-A or some other towing service that could help the group out.

For some reason, you didn't want to look away from the stranger.

He seemed to have the same idea because, as he took out a walkie-talkie from his belt, his green eyes were trained on you again.

Without taking his eyes off you, he took a slender finger and lowered his mask, tucking it under his chin. He had a crooked smile on his face, something like a mixture between a grimace and forced pleasantry.

Near the corner of his face, there was an indent of a diagonal scar. It stretched from above his lip to the center of his chin. You let yourself wonder why he had it. It split his lips a little, made him look kind of devilish.

"Another car needs help." He spoke into the little device, holding it in the palm of his hand and jostling it a little, making the antenna of it wiggle back and forth.

"Miscreants?" The static of it answered back, crackling and almost indecipherable.

The man laughed and you felt your heart skip just a little bit of a beat "No, just people who took a wrong turn. They seem very nice."

You tried to ignore the flash of sharp teeth in his mouth and chalked it off to genetics. Sometimes people just had especially sharp canines, right? Though something felt predatory about his. Not vampiric, maybe, but definitely wolfish.

"What's wrong with their car?" The longer sentence was easier to understand but it was filled with just as much static.

"Popped a tire on the main road." The man answered as he put his free hand in his pocket "They were trying to take the short-cut to Lovelock."

The sentence came out as a drawl, like there was a funny joke about it that you weren't privy to. Your head cocked a little, trying to figure out what it could mean.

He returned your look of curiosity with a small little smirk and a shrug, cocking his hip a little as he shifted his weight from one foot to another

Someone hissed out your name and you turned, finally breaking the staring game in between you and the stranger.

You turned to Kathy with a confused expression on your face, your eyebrow cocked "What's up?"

"I have like no signal like at all." She whispered to you as if it was the end of the world and she wanted only you to know.

Of course, since the two of you were sitting in a cramped van, the other two people in the van heard loud and clear.

"What!" Chloe shouted, scrambling for her own marble-cased phone "There's no signal?"

"No, 'fraid not."

You flinched, head quickly turning when you felt a breath against your ear. Suddenly, the stranger was leaning into the window of the van, crossed arms resting against the lip of the window.

Your wide eyes met his green ones again and he grinned, all wolfish and devilish and all your observations about him seemed to flash warning signs in your head.

"Something about the old factory leaking radiation or something." He answered easily enough just as you scooted a little so he wasn't talking right into your now rather hot ear

You nodded slowly but the tone of his voice as he spoke was that same tone he used when he mentioned the city; like he was telling half-truths and it was on a need to know basis and you didn't need to know.

You had been on the receiving end of that bullshit for so long, with the same exact friends you were with in the van, that you could detect it from a mile away.

"Plus, they've shut down the cell towers near here already." He gestured flimsily in some direction, probably to said cell towers.

Then, there was silence in the van. Chloe kept fiddling with her phone. Dirk, as always, looked distrustfully at the stranger, like a toddler who'd get his toy snatched away the moment he dropped his guard. The toy of course, being Chloe. Kathy just looked panicked and anxious.

You were anxious too. You were never good with silence.

As a way to make conversation, you fiddled with your fingers and decided to introduce yourself before asking the stranger who he was and what he was doing there.

You really didn't think he'd answer.

"Casimir Fiala." His name flipped off of his tongue with a fascinating smoothness "I'm just here to... research... the abandoned buildings."

There it was again, that need-to-know-only tone. This time, you waved away the blaring alarms in your head, tucking them away to note later. Instead, you decided to joke with him "Guess you're not a glorified security guard."

"Sometimes it feels like it." He flashed you a snide half smirk and there was a part of you that felt satisfied that, this time, it felt like you were in on the joke.

It definitely made you grin, that was for sure. Before you could respond, though, the sound of a motorcycle suddenly filled the area, getting closer and closer till it was accompanied by the crunch of gravel.

"That will be my wife." Casimir yelled above the noise as he backed away from the window and tucked his arms behind his back in one fluid motion.

When he did, you couldn't help but curiously peer out.

Just as he said, a woman appeared on a motorcycle, dust cloud surrounding her. If Casimir was overdressed, this woman was underdressed.

She was wearing skin-tight clothes, cargo pants, the works. She looked like she was dressed for an action movie.

Hell, she looked she herself walked out of an action movie. She was buff, tanned, tattooed all over, almost as tall as her husband. She looked like she could take a steel bar and bend it in half.

With fingerless gloves, she removed her motorcycle helmet and her hair fell fluttering out. She had one lock of hair at the very front braided, some of it pulled back, but the rest of it cascaded rather messily, covering most of the right side of her face.

It looked like a bad blue dye job that was already growing back out but, somehow, she made it look ruggedly sexy.

That wasn't what was surprising. What was surprising was the eye patch and the burn scars.

"Oh my god." Kathy gasped out and you could see her and Chloe pull out their phones as if trying to film some circus freak.

Immediately, you were pushing their phones away, scowling at them as you tried to keep your voice down "What the fuck, dude, are you guys serious?"

You could see Casimir walk over to his wife, probably to talk to her about fixing your wheel. How kind of them. All the while, your friends were spitting on that kindness by mocking his wife.

"But like, did you see her?" Chloe tittered, looking through her gallery to try and see if she got a good photo but then pouting when she didn't.

"You're disgusting, Chloe." You spat out, hoping the absolute vitriol in your voice could snap her out of this weird Mean Girls trance she was in "They're trying to fucking help us and this is the thanks you're giving them?"

Kathy just scoffed and flipped her hair. "They're the ones who stopped us and got our tires popped."

"We're the ones that trespassed on private property." You snapped back and, suddenly, you felt too suffocated in the van. You knew who your friends were, of course, and you knew them to be the type of people to make small mean jokes but this was way too much.

You got out of the van, your arms crossed and wrapped around yourself, anything to give yourself any ounce of comfort.

This entire trip was a bad idea to begin with. You hadn't wanted to go but your friends insisted over and over that they wanted you around. You thought 'why not?' but, in the end, you turned out more of a fifth wheel than anything else.

"Oh, hey." Bran greeted you as you stepped up to the trio who were discussing how to fix the car "What's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to stretch my legs." You lied easily enough since you didn't really want to tell Bran about how bitch-y his girlfriend was being.

Bran believed you, of course. He was too focused on being annoyed by the entire situation anyway. He seemed at least placated by the fact that he wouldn't have to pay for a new tire.

"Thank you so much, by the way, for like helping us out and shelling out cash for a tire." You decided to say since Bran definitely wouldn't say it. The smile on Casimir's wife's face was definitely worth it.

Casimir seemed to realise something because he looked at you in shock before gesturing to you and introducing you by name to his wife "And this is my wife Emm, she's the muscle of this entire operation."

"Nice to meet you." She put her hand out and you were about to take it only for her to quickly pull it back and wipe it on her pants "Sorry, I've been fixing machines all day. I'm dirty as all hell."

"No worries! Not like I'm all showered! We've been on the road for like three days now!" You waved off her concern and held out your hand.

Hesitantly, she took it and the two of you shook hands.

You noted that the burns she had on one side of her face seemed to spread down her body because her entire arm from shoulder to wrist (or what wasn't covered by her gloves) were covered in wrinkly scar tissue.

You tried not to stare. She probably got enough of that in her day-to-day, she didn't need it from you too.

You hoped she didn't get it from Bram already. He could be so insensitive without even thinking about it.

"Anyway, I was just sayin' that I'd love t' ride over to the gate, the one leadin' to Lovelock and send out a call, try to get triple-A over." Emm cupped the side of her neck, looking rather thoughtful "Boss won't be happy since we ain't suppos't have people over but."

Then she shrugged as if she was trying to say 'what can you do' before continuing "I got to go soon, though, 'cus I saw that the weather was suppos't to be terrible later today and--"

As if on que, thunder rumbled above, almost as loudly as Emm's motorcycle. You groaned because of course the weather would turn this horrible so rapidly and just when you needed it not to.

"Fuck." Bran put it so eloquently just as the rain started pouring as if the heavens above ripped open the clouds "Why can't you go while it's raining?"

"She only has a motorcycle." Casimir reminded him, his tone implying that fact in and of itself should've been explanation enough, his expression challenging Bran to say otherwise.

Emm looked much more apologetic but only by a bit "Plus, the road to Lovelock is 30 minutes and it's known to landslide when it's rainin'. I'm willin' to help ya'll but not that willin'."

Bran let out another expletive while you gave them an apologetic smile and a thank you.

"I'll be happy to invite ya'll over to our house. We live only a minute or two from here." Emm continued as Casimir shielded her with his lab coat, ducking her head a little as she walked closre to you so you could hear her over the hiss of the rain "It'll be better than that cramped van."

"I'll let everyone know!" You yelled, smiling gratefully at the couple.

Part of your brain registered the warning signs in your head. After all, though you'd tried your best to be polite to them, you did remember how odd Casimir seemed when you first encountered him.

Still, they were trying their hardest to accommodate your group. And, after how rude your friends were, you felt an odd obligation to make up for how mean your friends had been.

After all, what was the worst that could happen from just being nice?

[ch3rriewine]

Pink in the night ♡ {R.L}

summary: Remus drunkenly confesses his feelings, romance ensues

warnings(?): 1.6k words, idk like fluff, loosely based off of the mitski song "pink in the night", little bad idk how i feel about this one, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind, reader has hair long enough to be tucked back lol, reader has a cat:D, remus is a cutie as always, remus is a clingy drunk, theyre at a party and drinking alcohol, like one mention of a weed smell, the time it takes for the pain meds to kick in is a tad unrealistic but it's fiction so who cares, i'll add more when i think of more

authors note: ahhh!!!!! second fic thing idk tell me what u think :p also tell me what else u want writing wise im trying to write more

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Remus needs to talk to you, even standing near you would be great. You might as well be glowing pink, and the alcohol makes you look no less than a ray of sunlight. In a little black dress and some kitten heels, you stand close to Emmaline. That dress does wonders for your already lovely self, he thinks. You arrived a little later than everyone else, so you only had a few sips of some cocktail in you. He stumbles over to you, okay maybe he's drunk, not tipsy. Still, he managed to get over to you. Your perfume hits his senses and suddenly he’s forgotten why he’s over there. Oh yeah,

“Hey” you speak up first glancing at him with furrowed brows accompanied by a concerned smile.

“H-hey!” he yells, maybe a bit too loud, over the music. You're still smiling, now it’s not in concern, it's in fondness. He hopes you never stop.

“Having fun?” you chide, cocking your head a bit to the side. The smell of vodka and a small hint of cologne is eminent on him.

“No, not really” he slurs his words ever so slightly, grinning the smallest bit of pearly whites showing and something glinting in his eyes that you can't quite place.

Small talk ensues, and then he starts following you around the flat, chatting about nothing. Soon enough you're sat on a couch that smells faintly of booze and weed with Remus playing with a small lock of your hair. The strands twirl through his fingers, he seems oddly entertained by it, how much alcohol had Sirius given him?

“Rem, you look tired, you wanna stay the night at my place?” you ask, worried he’d pass out in this sticky mess. It’s only a friendly worry, not I secretly want to take care of you because I like you a whole lot worry, totally not.

“If it’s not too much of a hassle, sure” he mumbles, apparently too tired to speak up. Thankfully, your flat isn’t that far within walking distance. You two eventually make it back with no problems, other than Remus would occasionally trip on nothing. You lead him to your couch and sit him down, he’s already half asleep and he doesn't notice you taking off his coat for him and his shoes. You drag him back onto his feet and lead him to your bedroom, a lot harder than it sounds when it's a six-foot drunk man you're dragging. He plops down onto your bed, sighing at the feeling of your blankets and pillows surrounding him. You get a glass of water and some paracetamol on your bedside table for his oncoming hangover, then leave to change into your pajamas. He slowly assesses your bedroom, your bookshelves, the color of the walls, to your photos hanging up. It’s so you, everything just fits in perfectly with your character. You emerge from your bathroom changed and cleaned.

You're so lovely, he thinks. With your sleep shorts and an oversized shirt, you make your way over to your bed. “Get some rest, please, you had a lot to drink” ending your sentence with a small smile. That damn smile again.

“You’re so beautiful” he admires while sitting up, his face flushed from the alcohol and maybe something more. He eyed your lips with hazy eyes. “I really like you, as I think of you all day, it's hard to get stuff done. I really want to kiss you right now.”

“You’re drunk, get some rest and drink water” you insist.

“I’m serious!” he presses “you're so lovely” he sighs and falls back down onto the mattress.

“Scooch” you push him lightly so he moves over to the other side of the bed. “You won't feel like this in the morning, you're drunk.” you look into his eyes in the dim room, his dark brown irises looking almost black in the dark.

“I will,” he says before closing his eyes “I always will”. After a while, his breathing deepens and he's snoring lightly. He was saying that you were the one that was beautiful but look at him. His fluffed-up yet put-together hair, his bushy eyebrows, and the small, sparse freckles dotting his face, I mean come on. You fall asleep with your body turned towards him.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Remus awakes with meowing in his face. He blinks his eyes open slowly, looking at the black cat staring back at him. It was a small thing, with big yellow eyes and a pudgy figure. For a moment he was incredibly confused, he didn’t have a cat. He looked around to find that he wasn’t in his flat and he had a raging headache. His head was pounding and the shrill meowing wasn't helping. He looked over to his left seeing you. You were so peaceful like this, hair a mess, face completely relaxed, and hand resting on his chest.

He put the pieces together, he was in your flat after Sirius’ party, God did he say anything weird? Being too tired to think about it, he looks to his side to find water and some paracetamol. Downing the water, he turns toward your cat. Sashimi, he thinks is the name. Sashimi is sitting at the end of the bed now waiting patiently for his breakfast. Remus would feed him if he knew where you kept the cat food, so he has to wake you up. He dreads it, he'd rather not take you out of your peaceful state, but it’s for your son, as you call him.

“Hey, your cats hungry” he shakes you awake softly. “I'd feed him but I don't know where the food is”

You mumble something incoherent into your pillow, rolling into it. He laughs. That stupid, gorgeous laugh. “Ugh ok, I’ll feed him,” you say, not putting in any effort to get up. He rubs your arm comforting, the paracetamol already taking its effect.

You fight off the sleep still in your system and sit up. “Ok I’m awake, stay here if you want” Finally sitting up and getting out of bed. You smooth your hair, trying to salvage your appearance in any way possible. He follows close behind, walking out into your kitchen/living room, actually getting a good look at your living space. Your fake plants, your photos with your friends, and even a photo of you two. The photo is slightly blurry with you on his lap laughing wildly at something he said, a quaint smile spreading across his face at your reaction. It’s cute. He remembers that night, the party you guys were at, the smell of your perfume, the glitter coating your eyelids, the heels you took off halfway through the night, everything about you he remembers, yet he can't, for the life of him, remember what he said to make you laugh that hard.

The sound of a can opening pulls him back to the moment. Your cat meows at your feet, incessant with his demands for his breakfast. “Here you go, sweet boy,” you say to Sashimi while plopping the wet food into his bowl. Crouching to pet the cat’s soft fur, you turn your head and smile at Remus. “You want to go out for breakfast? There's a diner right around the corner.”

You sit opposite each other, him still in his alcohol-smelling clothes from the night before and you in sweats and a tank top with a flannel thrown over. The coffee is burnt and the bacon is too salty, but you couldn't be more content, what can you really expect from a diner whose main consumers are people like you, fighting hangovers with greasy food and coffee. “How're your eggs?” you ask, still kind of groggy.

“Rubbery,” he says around a mouthful of said eggs. “How’re your waffles?”

“Eh, they're ok,” you say moving your cut-up waffles around the plate with your fork, mind occupied.

“Are you ok? Something on your mind, lovely?” he asks. Of course, he can tell when you're out of sorts. Stupid, smart, amazing boy.

“You said, uhm, you said something last night.” you say “I just-I’m just thinking about it” you give him a small smile.

Oh God, what did he say? Did he mess it all up before he could even make a move? The poor boy looked mortified. It all came back to him, shit. He really said that to you? Drunkenly no less?

“I’m-I’m so sorry, genuinely. I was drunk and wasn't thinking and I should've expressed myself in a better way! I'll make it up to you! We can forget I said it or-” he rambles on.

“Did you mean it? Do you still feel the same way?” you stare at him anxiously, waiting for an answer.

“Do I-what?” he stares dubiously “Of course I do! How could I not? I meant every word I swear.” he takes your hands in his. This is all happening in a corner booth of a run-down diner, by the way. How romantic.

“Can I kiss you now?” he says, sincerely. Remus Lupin wants to kiss you, what a dream.

“Mhm,” you nod leaning over the table already. He laughs, shaking his head, then winces as his headache is coming back. You chuckle a little, it’s endearing in some odd way. He meets you halfway, putting a hand on your cheek and rubbing small circles with his thumb. His lips meet yours softly, just barely brushing over yours before you take the notion to deepen it. He smiles into the kiss, grabbing your face with both hands now. You break away after a while, smiling and on the verge of giggling like a schoolgirl.

“I think I didn't do it right,” he says tucking hair behind your ear "Maybe I'm still a little bit drunk," a knowing smirk ghosted his mouth.

“Oh yeah?” you question him.

“Yeah,” he nods “Can I try again?” a kiss “and again?” another “and again?” one last for good measure.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Wishful thinking - Walter Deville x reader - Oneshot smut request

requested by  Hufflepuff1701 on wattpad~!

Walter Deville x reader. Walter ends up in our world & reader takes care of him despite having seen the movie because she is like every other girl who watched the movie & would’ve been all for being the third bride. Spicy please!! My damn vampire kink…lol

Warning; mention of suicide, description of suicide. bloodplay, intended manipulation, manipulation, sex. MINORS DNI FOR UR OWN GOOD, U DONT NEED TO BE READING SMUT MY GODS(good lord knows i didn't need to) also practice safe sex even if ur with a immortal dude whos infertile, still good to practice safe sex my guys

Fem reader; she/her used. 

=

The gardens were ready, the art studio was set up, and the Alexander suite was furnished and decorated accordingly. Walter smirked to himself, rolling his neck with a satisfying crack. In just less than a week, Evelyn Alexander and he would be wed, and once more he would be at full power.

It had only been a few years since Emmaline, his most recent Alexander bride; had chosen to depart from this world.

-A piano wire around the neck, and a short drop from the 2nd floor. She had beheaded herself, a sight; not even he had been immune to.-

And yet-in such a small amount of time(at least to the immortal beings of the estate)-he and everyone else within the three families had felt the stain of the third bride's absence. He felt weaker, if only just so-but neither Viktoria nor Lucy were allowed to leave the grounds, in fear of any remaining vampire hunters. He feared with them not being complete-not being at full power-none of them would have the ability to survive an encounter with someone who knew exactly how to kill them

Though they were only seen as myths, legend, nowadays; vampires. Hunters were only seen in books, or made to be a legend as well; even around all hallows eve, some mortals would dress up as hunters, and some as vampires.

They looked like those ones in the black and white movies Lucy had shown him so many years ago, dorky and cheap. Though some, of the new modern age; looked-quite interesting, gothic and bloody.  Walter sighed at the thought, running his hands through his slicked-back hair, and wandering through the darkened halls of his manor.

Thunder and lightning decorated the grounds, rain crashing against the blue tiles of the roof and windows. Walter let out a slow breath, rubbing his hands on his pants as he made his way downstairs towards his study, pausing as his vision flashed a blinding white, thunder immediately following the flash.

“Never seen it this intense before,” Walter said to himself, even the night of Emmaline’s death hadn’t been this-stormy. More lightning coursed across his vision, and he swore he saw things within the white.

Another blinding flash of white and Walter had to close his eyes to protect his vision, thunder crowding his hearing as he clenched his jaw, his entire body humming painfully.

“Fuck” Walter panted as the white finally faded, and suddenly, rain began to soak his form. “What?” he opened his eyes, gasping at what he saw. He was no longer in his manor, but in a random alleyway, rain crashing down on him and the same thunder rumbling above. “how did i-” Walter flinched at the rolling cry of thunder and he shook his head, his hair already soaked along with his clothes.”…get here?”

If he was human, he would’ve been freezing, but even then he felt the nip of the cold rain at his fingertips. No matter, he needed to get somewhere dry, and hopefully warm. He didn’t feel the cold but he didn’t really like it either, at least in this way.

He let out a harsh breath as a car flew past as he stumbled out of the alleyway, hitting a large puddle and soaking Walter even further to the bone “…fucking cars” Walter groaned, flicking his hands about in a futile way to rid them of water; he cringed at the mess on his shirt, half of that water was fucking mud, and now he was filthy.

“Where the fuck am I?” he asked himself, turning on his heels for any sign of where he was, he didn’t see anything so far, but he wasn’t in Whitby that was for sure. He attempted to find the main road or something because as far as he could tell, he was on some sort of back road or closed neighborhood or…something.

Walter sighed, for once-he wished he had some sort of-device, that would allow him to pin-point his location. Oliver time and time again had attempted to convince him ‘phones’ weren’t all that bad, but time and time again, Walter refused; he hated technology. (though he did have to admit, movies were fun)

But now-damn a phone would’ve been useful.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he found the main road, and he was in some sort of city, surrounded by tall buildings and hundreds of screens and lights.

….

How in the hell did he get to New York city?!?!?!

Walter groaned, rubbing his head, rain still falling like there was no tomorrow. He was in fucking New York city, how he got there? He had no clue. How he was going to get home? That he also didn’t know.

He didn’t have any money, or his passport, or anything else on him. (yes he had a passport, even as a vampire he did still have to be a visible ‘human’ otherwise someone would get suspicious). He was fucked to put it plainly.

Walter grunted as someone pushed into his back, sending him slightly towards the busy road. “hey-“ he snapped, forgetting his manners since-it was likely no one would know him here…though Evelyn Alexander did live within new York city, so he should probably be a bit careful in how he acted.

He glared at the passing stranger, their hands above their head in an attempt to protect themselves from the weather; they probably didn’t even realize he was there. Walter huffed, shaking his head again and brushing his hair back out of his eyes, squinting as he tried to look around through the sheets of rain.

He knew some of the extended family of the 3 great families lived in New York, he could possibly get in contact with one of them, most likely the Alexander’s at best. But also he knew the Alexander’s here weren't really involved with the pact-they knew about it and kept quiet, but they weren’t…into it to say the least.

But still, it would be the best option. He just had to figure out where the hell to go to find one.

He went to turn and find some sort of-map, when he was shoved again, this time very harshly as a hand attempted to sneak his non-existent wallet off him. Walter fell back towards the road, his eyes widening as fear stuck into his chest-two large beams of light was heading right for him, and while he had incredible speed and reaction times-he really had no time to react.

Walter snapped his eyes shut, he knew he would survive the hit, but damn it wouldn’t hurt any less. Time seemed to slow down as he fell towards the street and a truck sped towards him, honking all the while as people passing by gasped in fright.

He felt a hand grab his soaked button-up and tug him back towards the sidewalk, he could feel the rush of air as the truck zoomed by-just moments after his head passed the threshold. “holy shit!” whoever it was grabbed him yelped, having used so much force he and the voice stumbled back to the ground, Walter ending up on top. “WATCH WHERE YOU PUSH YOU FUCKER!” the voice yelled, and Walter winced as it cracked through the pouring rain, he looked up, seeing whoever had pushed him was booking it down the street-though they did trip and face plant thanks to the rain.

Walter pushed himself off whoever had saved him, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “Are-are you okay?” The voice asked, resting their hand on his shoulder, the rain suddenly no longer crashing on his head. He looked up, an umbrella, he looked at the voice, seeing a pair of striking (e/c) eyes staring back at him, concerned and….surprised? as if they didn’t expect to see…him. specifically.

“I’m fine, thank you” he muttered, slowly standing up with the girl as she grasped his arm and helped him up, keeping the umbrella over the both of them. “you don’t look, fine” the girl muttered, scanning over his soaked visage “you got somewhere to stay? I assume you do but-“ she shrugged, pursing her lips slightly.

Walter huffed, slicking back his hair again. He did have a plan, but-with how this rain was-he wouldn’t be able to execute it until it stopped “no-no I don’t, are you offering?” Walter laughed, he knew he had a-charm to him, and was quite the vision-but for a random girl to invite him into her home? Just because he was soaking wet and almost ‘died’?

“yes, I’m just downtown-I called an uber actually. Promise you’re not a serial killer?” the girl joked, laughing as Walter nodded, holding up his hands to show he had no weapons. He didn’t know why, but he felt such-ease-at acting so human with this girl, it gave him hope that he could easily fool Evelyn when the time came. “Awesome, shit-there it is, let's go” she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the black car that had pulled up to the curb, the driver inside calling out the girl's name.

“For (y/n)!?” the male called, his dark brows furrowing as he squinted through the rain “yep! Joseph I presume?” the girl, (y/n), called back, nodding as the driver nodded and unlocked the door. (y/n) tugged Walter into the car with her and closed the umbrella before they settled in, towels lining the leather seats. “Thank you so much”

Joseph nodded, keeping his eyes peeled as he attempted to move back into the main road, sighing as a car sped right by him. Walter sighed at the warmth of the car, grabbing a dry towel from the middle seat and rubbing his hair with it, noting there was a little sign on the back of the seats to tell the riders to toss the towels in the back after being used.

“you just let a complete stranger into your-” Walter struggled to remember the word this, (y/n), had used a moment before “uber, and planning to let him into your house” he turned to her, furrowing his brows as (y/n) just snorted “how do you know I wasn’t lying about being a serial killer?”

(y/n) grinned, leaning towards him “I like to believe in people, plus; what are the chances that we're both, serial killers” Walter couldn’t help it, he laughed, his nose scrunching as (y/n) nodded, happy she had eased the slight tension as Joseph finally pulled out into the road and began making his way downtown.

“I’m (y/n), by the way” (y/n) introduced herself, holding out her hand to Walter, he nodded with a polite smile and a tense jaw; reminding himself that he needed to keep calm as (y/n)’s scent floated towards him. “I’m Walter, Walter Deville.”

Surprise flooded (y/n)’s eyes, and her hand twitched in his “As in-Lord Deville?” (y/n) asked, her voice quiet, but calm. Walter nodded, so it did seem he was a bit more…known, than he thought he was. “yes, that would be me.” (y/n) stared at him for a moment, then nodded; squeezing his hand lightly before pulling back “Nice to meet you, Walter.”

“Same to you, (y/n).” Walter muttered back, keeping his eyes on (y/n) as she huddled in her corner of the car, a slight flush growing on her cheeks. He could hear her heart speed up, her blood flowing rapidly to her face and…oh~oh well, this was interesting ~

-

Walter slid off his shoes as he stepped into (y/n)’s apartment, sniffing as he glanced around the two-bedroom apartment. “it’s not much I know, but-pretty much the best a college dropout can afford on a three-job paycheck” Walter hummed, taking the towel (y/n) handed him and starting to dry off, keeping near the doorway as (y/n) went about turning on her heating and starting a small pot of water.

(y/n) sighed, clapping her hands together then taking off her large coat and shoving it in her closet “Well uh, make yourself at home, if you need to call anyone, I do have a landline” Walter hummed again, whatever the hell a landline was. “I dunno how you clean your clothes but I do have a washer n dryer set in the other room, so-if you need to, you can get your stuff dry”

Walter nodded again, shaking his head as he pulled the towel away from his head; sighing as he watched (y/n) move about her apartment, pulling out the couch until it was a full bed “uh, you can take my bed for the night, if you want-I’ll just” she gestured to the bed, and Walter felt a bit…honored? Yes he was a lord and she apparently knew who he was, but she still offered her actual bed over just having him sleep on the couch.

“Thank you, I’ll take you up on that offer,” Walter said with a smooth smile, showing his teeth slightly. He heard (y/n)’s heart rate speed up again and he had to hold back a chuckle, watching as (y/n) turned away from his eyes, her hands tight at her side as she practically rushed back to the kitchen; taking off the top from her pot of now boiling water and tossing in some pasta she had pre-prepared.

“Are you hungry at all? I-I haven’t gone grocery shopping in a bit, but-I do have” she pulled open her fridge, clicking her tongue “…food?” it sounded like a question, as if whatever was in her fridge wasn’t actually food. Walter hummed taking off his button-up and setting it on the towel he had laid out on the edge of the couch. (y/n) glanced back at him, and he heard her breath catch as her eyes caught onto his now exposed arms, a tank top covering his torso. “I could eat”

Which yes, yes he very much could.

“c-cool, uh, is spaghetti and garlic bread okay?” Walter had to hold back a snort at the mention of garlic bread, to this day-he still didn’t know who had started that ‘vampires are deathly allergic to garlic’ thing, in fact-it was one of the few human foods he genuinely enjoyed nowadays.

But still-he nodded to her stuttered question, taking off his belt and setting it with his shirt “do you have any extra clothes I could borrow? I’d rather not stand in a towel for an hour while my clothes dry” Walter hummed out, very much enjoying the flush that appeared on (y/n)’s ears as her shoulders tensed at the idea of him being in nothing but a towel.

“I uh-yes-yes I do, I’ll be right back-could-could you stir the pasta while I do that? Thanks!” she ran to her bedroom before Walter could answer and Walter hummed, walking into the kitchen and stirring the pot of boiling water and spaghetti. He heard a small squeal from (y/n)’s room, to him almost sounding as if it had come from right behind him, chuckling to himself as he heard (y/n) fumble and trip over whatever was in her room-most likely cleaning it up and gathering clothes.

Soon the timer went up and Walter turned the stove off, his hands on his hips as he waited, and hoped, (y/n) would be back out soon and do whatever she needed to do with the pasta. A minute went by, and Walter huffed, taking the pot and pouring it into a strainer, leaving the pasta in the strainer as he went to lean against the kitchen doorway.

“Okay! Okay, took me a minute but-here” (y/n) finally came bounding back into the room, huffing slightly from whatever effort she had put into cleaning her room and finding some clothes; handing him a pair of black sweat pants, and a black t-shirt, along with an unopened pack of boxers. “uh, hopefully, those fit, you-you can either change in the bathroom or the bedroom” (y/n) danced around him and finished up making her pasta, taking the garlic bread out of the oven and starting the sauce.

Walter watched her for a moment, then smirked, he could easily use her little…interest in him, to his advantage. But first, he should change. He went into the bedroom like (y/n) offered, taking off his tank top and pants, sniffing as he peeled the soaked fabric away from his legs. He noticed a towel sitting on the end of the bed and grabbed it, quickly drying his skin before he put the offered clothes on.

As he shoved on the t-shirt, his eyes caught onto a large plastic picture that sat on the inside of (y/n)’s door, and…it…it was-him?? but it wasn’t him, but that was clearly him. “What the fuck?” Walter grumbled, studying the picture closer, narrowing his eyes at the branding in the corner of the picture.

BTB

His eyes drew back up to his face. That was him, or at least-someone who looked exactly like him. something told him, he wasn’t supposed to see this right now; that (y/n) had meant to hide this. His eyes narrowed, (y/n) knew more than she let on; he was going to find out what exactly she knew.

And he knew exactly how he could do that; her attraction was going to be very…helpful, to him.

-

It had been a week since Walter’s arrival, and-you still didn’t know how to explain to yourself; how he got here. Because-in all realities, he shouldn’t. He was a fictional fucking character, played by your favorite male actor Thomas Doherty. Who was in fucking Cincinnati at the moment, and had a beard.

So-Walter fucking Deville, was in your apartment, and you had a feeling; he was onto you knowing more than what you told him. He had been non-stop watching you for the past week, like a hungry tiger waiting for its meal to grow tired, waiting for you to weaken.

Like a vampire waiting for its meal to just-give up.

And it both made you want to shiver in fear, and want. It was no secret to any of your friends, online or otherwise; that you had it bad for the Scottish actor and his characters, and damn there was something about the sadisticness of Walter Deville that Thomas had portrayed, that just made you want to-fuck there your mind went again, right into the gutter.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your head, you had tried to play it cool this last week, attempting to help Walter find the non-existent families that resided in New York. In his world, they probably did very much exist, but here? he was nothing but a character on a screen, with his actor several states away. But the further along he waited for any Alexander, Billington, or Klopstock-to help him get back to England; the more impatient he got. It had only been a week and yet you could see the demon within slowly begin to creep out, his eyes getting darker and darker by the day.

Should you be scared for your life? Probably. Were you? No. were you horny as all fuckin hell for the actual blood-sucking vampire that was taking residence in your apartment? Yes, yes you were, and you were lowkey beating yourself up over it.

You just hoped he hadn’t seen that one Thomas Doherty poster you had forgotten to take down when cleaning up your room; you really only had two others than that one-sexy-ass black-and-white one. Both of them being Harry Hook since-I mean why the hell not?

You sighed, cracking your neck and rolling your shoulders, unlocking the door to your apartment and stepping inside “Walter?” you called out gently, a hint of nervousness seeping into your voice at the darkness that had taken over your living room “I’m home, I brought dinner”

You kneeled down to take off your shoes, setting down your takeout on the couch as you did. When you stood up, there he was, eyes gleaming like the devil. You gasped, choking a bit as his clawed hand took your throat and pushed you against the door.

“W-Walt-“ your voice was cut off at the press of his palm, his fangs gleaming in the dim light that came from your dropped phone. “You,” Walter started, his voice smooth and alluring, but no longer hiding the danger that lurked within “are going to tell me, everything. I’ve gotten tired of playing this little-game, of yours. Now,” he squeezed your throat and you coughed, grabbing his wrist; hoping he would let you go just a little bit. “Talk.”

You just stared at him, his palm still pressed against your throat, keeping your voice from presenting itself. You then patted his hand twice as he glared at you, he sighed “right, you mortals need air” Walter grumbled out, removing his palm but not his hand, keeping his eyes on yours.

You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath before you sighed “what-what exactly do you want to know?” Walter almost looked surprised you were willing to talk, enough to take his hand off your neck and move it to simply press against your collarbone. “you know who I am, How?”

You pursed your lips, how in the fuck were you going to explain multi-dimensional travel to someone who was from the 15th century at the best? When you didn’t know how to even explain it to yourself? “I….you had the ask the toughest question first?” you groaned, letting your head drop slightly, your chin grazing against his hand.

Walter blinked, how would that be the toughest question? “could-could you let me go for a second, I need to grab something” you muttered, and Walter narrowed his eyes, but did as asked, watching you like…well like a hungry vampire as you walked further into the living room and grabbed a particular movie case.

You walked back over to Walter and handed him the case, sighing as he slowly took it; his eyes going wide. “The Invitation?” he muttered, looking down at Evelyn Alexander's face, and his own; two fingers resting against his lips as Evie looked to be mid-transformation, dressed in her soon-to-be wedding attire. “you-you’re from a movie, for me at least” you jumped into explanation, tapping the case, and then going down to the starring description, where his actor’s name sat with Evie’s. “a character from a fictional story inspired by Dracula ‘n all that. It's why you can't find any of the families, they don’t exist here…you’re technically not supposed to exist.”

You pulled out your phone, taking the chance of Walter’s shocked form to look up Thomas Doherty’s Instagram, showing Walter his own actor, and he recognized him as the man from the black and white poster he saw earlier that week before you took it down. “nothing but a character eh?” Walter muttered, looking back down at the movie case, flipping it over in his hands a few times “well….fuck”

His claws and fangs retracted, for once-he felt…helpless, he wasn’t just in New York, he was in a separate dimension from his own; New York. But his questions now changed, because now he knew how you knew him…but the question now was; “Why did you let me into your home? You know what I am” he took a step closer to you, nearly trapping you against the couch, lifting the case into your vision, both sets of his eyes dark “Why would you take such a risk? Hmm?” he knew exactly why you did it now, but he wanted to hear it from your lips.

“i-i-um” you stuttered, your face heating up as Walter got closer, dropping the case as he did so, his arms caging your sides. Walter smirked, tilting his head, his fangs starting to peek out. You stared into his eyes, that ocean blue nearly overtaken by a void of black. You looked away, tucking your chin into your shoulder; your breath shuddering as his clawed fingers took your jaw and gently pulled you back to look you in the eyes “Could it be?” Walter purred, getting even closer, enough to where you could feel his breath on your face “That you have some-feelings, for me? Feelings one shouldn’t have for someone like…me”

He smirked, his fangs fully visible now, he could hear the blood rushing through your body, accumulating in your face and between your thighs. He stuck his knee between your legs, his thigh pressing against your pulsing core. Walter chuckled, tilting his head the other way as he watched your breath stutter and your eyes flicker to his lips “I suppose I should thank you, for giving me such hospitality; taking me in when you knew exactly what I have done, or will do” he leaned even closer, his lips moving towards your ear, fangs grazing your skin.

You huffed, hands reaching up to grab his biceps, squeaking as he rubbed his thigh against you. “Fuck” you huffed, letting your head fall back as Walter trailed his lips against your jaw and upper neck. His teeth grazed your skin and you whimpered, clutching onto his arms. He smirked against you, and hummed before his fangs punctured your skin; his arms wrapping around you as your blood flooded into his mouth, his body humming wonderfully as he ate for the first time since before his arrival.

He could tell you were enjoying this, your body humming with painful pleasure, your hips rocking against his thigh as he drank your blood, satisfying his own need while giving you a taste of your darkest desires. “you like this, you want this, don’t you?” Walter huffed as he pulled away from your neck, everything within him screaming to dive back in, to give you what you both wanted.

You just huffed, eyes closed as your head lugged to the side, a small bit of drool accumulating in the corner of your lips. Walter smirked, releasing your body and stepping back, watching as you caught yourself on the couch. “wh-wha-“ you couldn’t think of any words, your mind a haze of lust and confusion.

Walter just smirked, reaching forward and delicately taking your chin, rubbing his thumb against your skin “just say the words, and I’ll do as you wish~” you huffed, looking into his eyes, and he smirked at yours; fully dilated. You lunged forward, grabbing his collar and pulling him towards you, stopping just before his lips could meet yours “fuck me up, please”

Walter chuckled darkly and kissed you, hard. You could feel his fangs against your bottom lip, gasping as he bit into it gently and pulled, slowly pushing you away from the couch and towards your bedroom. You gasped as he picked you up and tossed you on your bed, on top of you within a blink, his hands exploring your body as his mouth went on your neck, drawing more of your blood into his mouth.

He groaned at the taste; it was nothing like he had before; it felt like when he had tried a raspberry Danish for the first time. Delightful and full of sin, begging him to devour every last morsel. Your hands twitched around his shoulders, wanting to run your fingers through his soft-looking hair; gasping as his hips pressed into yours, a hardness making itself known in his pants.

Gods, it felt like you were dreaming, you were going to fuck one of your fictional crushes, who was a vampire; who was feeding off your blood as he felt you up.

It felt like one of your fanfictions come to life, which-to you-fuck yeah.

Watler pulled away from your neck, getting to work on taking off his top, smirking as you rushed to take off yours, getting caught on your earrings for a moment before it joined Walter's button-up on the floor.

Walter licked his lips, wiping his chin clean of your blood and smearing it on the skin of your breasts, leaning down and sucking the stained skin into his mouth, rolling his hips into yours. He smirked as you moaned softly, his hands easily sneaking around your back and slipping off your bra.

He took a nipple into his mouth, closing his eyes and biting the hardened nub softly, his hands explored your thighs, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down, his mouth attached to your breasts all the while.

“you’re fucking delicious” Walter grumbled, his mind starting to haze over with lust and bloodlust, for you. He wouldn’t deny himself; he had been attracted to you upon your sudden introduction; and he was all too happy to oblige to his desires when they met yours all too easily.

“Good to know” you huffed back, finally giving in to that voice in the back of your head and threading your fingers through Walter's hair. Your breath stuttered as he smeared more of your blood on your breasts and lower tummy, sucking and licking it clean as he stuck his clean hand into your underwear, his finger teasing your clit; chuckling as he felt how soaked you already were.

“So fucking wet for me, how long have you imagined this? Imagined me taking you, drinking your blood as I fucked you” his hand stained with your blood closed around your neck, pressing just enough for you to feel it but not to cut off your airflow. You stared up at him, your face feeling hotter than it ever had with any other dude or woman you had been with. “With how warm your body is, how fast your heart is, with each catch of your breath” his hand trailed down your body, the other still playing with your clit, slowly dragging down till they mean your dripping entrance. “you’ve been wanting this since you first saw me~ am I right? Naughty girl~”

You scrunched your face a bit, covering it with your arm and holding back a scream of cringe. It definitely sent butterflies through your tummy but also-damn did that sound so fucking weird. Walter couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction, he noted that you had less of a wanted reaction to that and more of a ‘please never say that again’ reaction.

Walter took your now bare leg, leaning down and kissing your thigh, pressing his lips against it, his fangs grazing your skin before he bit in; moaning as your taste flooded his mouth again. You groaned, sparks of pained pleasure running down your spine. “fuck” you grumbled, leaning up on your elbows as you watched Walter indulge himself on you with half-lidded eyes.

He pulled away with a near struggled gasp, licking your new wound clean and then kissing the curve of your knee, grinning down at you as you watched him with blown pupils. Faster than you could blink, he was on your cunt, taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard; you bucked your hips with a loud curse, your legs locking around his back as his fingers slipped inside with no resistance. His nails were normal thank the gods, the pads of his fingers finding that spot and curling into it as he dutifully licked and sucked your clit, sending shocks through your navel and spine.

You tried to cover your mouth to hide the noises that were coming from you, but Walter grabbed your wrist and moved it back to his hair; pulling away from your clit to growl out a few words “no hiding” he huffed out, chin and mouth soaked with you.

His hands grabbed your hips, diving back into your cunt and eating you out as if you were going to be his final meal. You let your moans flow freely now, your hands threading through Walter's dark hair as if he was your anchor; feeling that coil in your gut tighten with each flick on your clit, every press against your g-spot, warmth flooding your body and face until everything snapped.

Your stomach contracted, legs pressing against either side of Walter’s head as you came; vision going white and hearing going out. “FUCK!” you breathed out loudly, panting as Walter gave a final few flicks on your clit with his tongue to guide you through your orgasm, sitting up with a proud smirk.

Your legs were moved to sit on either side of his hips as he moved up your body, his hands tracing your sides as he snuck up to your face, kissing your neck bite before he kissed you, forcing you to taste your cum and blood.

A bit gross, but gods with how fucked your head was right now, it was hot. You watched through half-lidded eyes as Walter stripped his pants, choking on your breath as his long and thick cock made itself known, a bead of precum trailing down the veined shaft. He chuckled at your reaction, stroking himself as he enjoyed your eyes trailing every bit of his body.

He sat back on his heels as you reached back towards your nightstand, pulling the drawer out with some difficulty and grabbing a handful of condoms “i-uh-size?” you squeaked out, holding up several different sizes of condoms; Walter chuckled, he had become infertile upon his transformation but it was better safe than sorry. He took the appropriate condom and ripped the packaging open with his teeth, sliding the condom on and then grabbing your legs.

“Let's get into the good stuff, shall we?” Walter purred, his fangs and lips stained with your blood. You huffed, biting your lip as Walter took himself and aligned his cock with your cunt, groaning as he pushed into your heated and soaking entrance. “Fuck!“ you gasped, your hands reaching out and grabbing his shoulders, cheeks blazing hot as Walter slowly pulled back out, chuckling as your cunt clenched tightly around him; as if trying to keep him inside.

“Fuck, you’re so warm” Walter grumbled, setting one hand on your hip and the other on your tummy, beginning a slow and sensual pace, his hips meeting yours every few seconds. You gasped and moaned with each push and pull of his hips, he felt so big inside you; another painful pleasure that soon bleed into wonderful pleasure.

His pace picked up slightly, his eyes on your chest as it bounced with his hips, your blood had dried along your skin by now, though it shimmered with his spit and your sweat. Your hands grabbed his wrist that connected to his hand on your tummy, your body so warm underneath him. “ah-ah-fuck-shit-fuck-ah-ahhh!”

Walter hummed, a low growl in his voice, leaning down to press his body against yours, taking your earlier bite wound in his mouth and sucking hard, reopening the marks and letting your sinfully delicious blood into his mouth. You moaned loudly, clearly enjoying the feeling of being fucked and fed on at the same time. Walter chuckled, rutting his hips into you, licking his lips as he pulled away from your neck.

“so fucking warm, and wet-so fucking delicious,” Walter growled, his claws pressing into your soft skin, not puncturing but it would leave a mark. “I think I’ll keep you,” Walter muttered, enjoying the whimper that came from your lips as he gave a particularly hard thrust. “doll you up, make you my little plaything, give you all you desire~” he was rambling now, just letting his mouth(more like his dick) speak its mind.

He took your breast into his mouth, his fangs breaking the skin and allowing more of your blood to flow into his mouth. You felt that coil snap, a loud and broken moan spilling from your lips as you came from his words and bite; clenching down on his cock as you did. Walter groaned at the feeling, his hips stuttering as he felt himself get to that peak, your hands running through his hair and scratching his scalp sending him over the edge.

His hips pressed firmly into yours, coming into the condom, a small string of old-world curse words spilling from his lips that were still attached to your bloodied breast. You both laid there for a few moments, one breathing heavily as the other took a few deep breaths then sat themselves up, Walter chuckling at the mess he made; with not just your blood, but of you in general.

You were covered in blood and bite marks, your legs twitching as you came down from your high. “Fuck” you croaked out, slowly reaching up to your face to rub it as Walter pulled out, taking off the condom, tying it, and tossing it in the trash.

“So what do you say?” Walter asked gently, leaning down to clean the wounds he had made, his fangs and claws still fully visible. You furrowed your brows, opening your eyes to see Walter licking your chest clean, his eyes dark as a midnight ocean. You wondered what he meant before you remember his small ramble from only moments before; ‘I think I’ll keep you, doll you up, make you my little plaything, give you all you desire~’

“You-you were serious?” you asked quietly, feeling so very tired; most likely from him feeding, but also from the tiring activity. Walter hummed with a nod, cleaning your neck next, kissing the set of puncture wounds before he made his way down to your thigh. “why-why me? I mean-you-you’re probably waiting for-for Evie, right? I-“ Walter’s eyes flashed up to you, flickering dangerously.

You watched him for a moment, licking your swollen lips; before sighing “I’m just…some girl from New York, I don’t have special blood or anything I just….I’m just-normal-not special.” Walter laughed, as if you said something so preposterous! His head was thrown back, his fangs gleaming in the dim light of your room, your blood dripping down his chin and neck.

“not special?” Walter cooed, leaning down and softly biting your jaw, his hands curling up your arms; gently squeezing you “oh darling, you are far from that-foolish yes, you took in a man you knew to be a monster-but you are far from normal, for that same reason. And you must know; I do have a fondness for exquisite art pieces” Walter finished with a hum, leaning over you with enchanting eyes, hoping his words would sway you to accept his proposal.

He knew it wasn’t love, he hadn’t had the ability to since before his turn; but he did want to keep you, to give you pretty dresses, keep you fed, happy, warm, like a precious art piece to be admired and kept well. “You will be protected, you will never have to worry for anything ever again, food, money, anything; all you have to do-is say yes” Walter whispered, his breath fanning across your face.

You stared back at him, chest rising heavily as you took in his dark ocean eyes. “and-and what will you get in return?” you whispered, looking at his bloodstained lips for a moment, taking a sharp breath as Walter smirked dangerously “simple, you will keep me fed, and I get to fuck you as I wish-of course-when you are feeling the same; even demons need consent”

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering about your room; were you actually going to do this? Abandon your life to become a prized possession of the Walter Deville? A man named for the devil? A vampire?

“if I say yes” you whispered, feeling his lips brush against yours as you looked back at him “how-how are we even going to get back to your world?” Walter just hummed, he just-had a feeling-once you gave your answer, he would soon be returned home.

Something told him that’s why he had been sent there in the first place, a lesson of sorts-for what? he didn’t know, but he didn’t care. he just wanted you.

You pouted a bit at his non-answer, letting your head fall back into your pillow as Walter’s mouth explored your jaw and neck. You would be leaving behind…a lot, you would think. Three jobs, your nice coworkers that had become friends, your few family members you were still in contact with, the apartment you had worked so hard for; and your potential future.

…eh-fuck it-this world was going to shit anyway-might as well enjoy it with a devilishly handsome vampire who was gonna treat you like a fancy feast to enjoy over a long period of time. “okay” you finally whispered, smiling as Walter sat up quickly, his eyes almost surprised “I accept”

Walter grinned, dangerous yet excited, and kissed you; his hands cradling your jaw as he did. You huffed slightly as he pulled away, watching as he stood and nearly skipped into your bathroom, grabbing a few washcloths and getting them damp with warm water; returning with that same grin. You smiled back, letting him clean you up and attend to your multiple bite marks.

You had a feeling that this aftercare was only a preview for how you were to be treated within New Carfax Abbey. You swayed slightly as the blood loss started rearing its ugly head, watching with slightly blurred vision as Walter put his underwear and pants back on; leaving your room only to return with some apple juice and your takeout.

“drink, eat” he whispered, looking human once more as you obeyed his soft command. After you ate and drank, you felt much better-still tired-but better. “sleep, I’ll be here in the morning” Walter said, not a command-simply a suggestion, moving to lie next to you in your full bed, pulling you to lie halfway on his chest, his arm going under your pillow.

For a man who couldn’t feel love, he knew how to give illusion to it.

You hummed against him, letting your body relax and fall into the void of sleep. You wondered what would happen to your stuff when you went to leave this world with him.

Walter gazed down at you, his fingers caressing your cheek and jaw; he wondered how such a human-like you had somehow cracked his dead heart open and made her own little spot inside. Again, he knew he wasn’t in love, but in lust-but, he felt such a fondness for you. One he hadn’t felt since he was human.

His mind wandered back to that thought he had earlier, of him being in this world was a lesson for something. Maybe this was that lesson, learning to be human again. He smirked at the thought-why would he want to be human, when the human in his arms was happy enough with a monster?

As Walter closed his eyes to join you in sleep, thunder and lightning rolled in from the night sky, a flash of lightning overtaking his vision before everything faded out.

-

Your eyes opened to a much large bed; the spot next to you a faded warmth. You sat up, rubbing your eyes as the morning sun beamed through the almost closed curtains of the grand room. You were in the manor, you had to be-this room was nearly as big as your apartment kitchen and living room combined.

“He kept his word” you yawned out, stretching slightly, your arms plopping over your head as you noticed the very familiar items that sat around the room. All of which being items that had been in your room back in your apartment. “Cool” you muttered, so you got to keep your stuff, that was very much a plus.

You perked up as the door opened, Walter stepping in as quietly as he could, a silver tray in his hands. He smirked when he saw you were awake, his fangs visible. “Good morning, and before you ask; no, I don’t know how we got back or how your stuff is here, but, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth” Walter chuckled, walking over to your side of the queen-sized bed and resting the tray filled with breakfast food on the nightstand.

You hummed in agreement, looking up as his fingers grazed your chin, closing your eyes to accept his kiss “Eat, I will not feed from you again until you have regained what I have taken” you hummed in acknowledgment, waiting for Walter to step back slightly before eagerly digging into the food he had brought you.

“I have told Viktoria and Lucy about you, just so they don’t go after you thinking you’re a regular…feeder” Walter muttered, voice suddenly all business as he stood and went about making sure the suite you had ended up in was good enough. You hummed, pursing your lips at the thought of Viktoria. Lucy? Gods, you would be ecstatic to meet her. But Viktoria very much seemed like a woman who did not want to share, and even with a warning from Walter- she would kill you the first chance she got for you taking just a bit of Walter's time from her.

“If Viktoria does try anything, tell me immediately, she's been” Walter struggled to find the word, walking back over to you and taking your cheek, his eyes off into a random corner as his thumb caressed your skin. You looked up at him, still happily eating the food you had been given. “Getting too comfortable being defiant towards me. She has yet to realize she's easily replaceable compared to the Alexander brides, I’m pretty sure several of the Klopstock girls have offered their hand.”

You snorted at the thought, couching as a bit of food went down your windpipe but you easily cleared it as Walter glanced down at you “Don’t die on me now, you just got here” you laughed at his almost not a joke, making Walter smile as you shook your head and said; “don’t plan to, I’ll be here as long as you allow me”

Walter looked very happy at the notion and kissed the top of your head “Wonderful, now; what style of dress do you like?”

-end-

Okay-I had-so much fun with this request????? Like-I thought I was gonna have some trouble with it but DAMN the words just flowed after I got past the first quarter, im very happy with the spice and the after bit as well~~~~ onto the next one!

 taglist????? again-i dunno who wants to be perm tagged for smut-yall like-gotta tell me this shit okay?? not a mind reader

but @crazy4books1​ 

[dexterouslycharming]

Ok so I low-key might be messing around with the old Doll Divine EAH maker 

Meet my newest oc, Crissy De'Ville, daughter of Cruella De'Ville, Emmaline White, and Penelope Rabbit!!

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

To The Victor Chapter One - Meeting

Summary: Although Omegas had won the legal battle for equal rights, society was slow to catch up. Thought to be the weakest of the genders, they struggled to find opportunities that Alphas and Betas took for granted. Known as the Guillotine, Emmaline Beaumont was woman with a secret. Head of her family’s company; she was smart, shrewd, and tough as nails. At sixteen she presented as Omega and she’s hidden it ever since. Suppressants and hormone reassignment therapy allowed her to live her life as the Alpha her family needed her to be. The perfect solution, so long as she never allowed herself to be claimed. As the President of Winchester Inc. Dean’s professional life was golden. As an unmated Alpha nearing forty, he was restless. Charming and devastatingly handsome, Dean was rarely without female company, but he wanted more. He wanted what his parents had. Someone made especially for him. His match, his true mate. Finding her on a trip to New York had been an unexpected dream come true, but no one ever said the road to love was easy.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean Winchester x OFC

Characters: Dean Winchester, OFC, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, John Winchester, Jody Mills

Warnings: ABO dynamics, Heat/Rut cycles, Smut (Unprotected sex, knotting, oral sex, claiming bites), hurt/comfort, sickfic, hospitals and medical talk, fluff and angst, age difference (Dean is 39, OFC is 27), True mates, self hate (OFC struggles with gender)

Chapter One: Meeting Word Count: 4465

Masterlist

To The Victor Masterlist

It was autumn in New York City, one of those rare golden days where the sunlight reflected off the trees in a way that made the whole city glow. The leaves had turned colors but not yet dropped. The air was crisp and clear, making it perfect for strolling through the arts fair in downtown Manhattan. It was days like this that reminded locals why they put up with sky-high rent and never-ending winters.

Emma rarely had the time to treat herself to a leisurely afternoon in the city, but with her baby sister’s birthday coming up she needed to find something special. Jess was a bit of a bohemian, and something from a local artist would suit her eclectic tastes perfectly. She wove her way through the white tents, happily slurping her huge, iced coffee. Her earbuds canceled out the ambient noise from the city and her Jackie O styled sunglasses shielded nearly half of her face.

In her track suit and sneakers, no one would mistake her for the high-powered executive she was during her 80-hour work weeks. She was just twenty-three when she took control of her family’s company and quickly built a reputation as a shrewd businesswoman. By her twenty-seventh birthday she had improved profits enough to put them on the Fortune 500 list, making her one of the youngest female CEO’s to ever mark such an achievement.

Anyone observing her petite frame strolling down the street would likely have mistaken her for a college student. None of them would ever guess her best kept secret. Emmaline Beaumont, well-known, confident, ambitious woman in charge of everything was not the cutthroat Alpha she presented to the world. Emma was an Omega.

Omega. The very word was weak in Emma’s mind. Soft, compliant, obedient, submissive, and meek. Poor, little Omegas, incapable of looking after themselves; they couldn’t even tie their own shoes let alone hold positions of power. Not without an Alpha to guide them. The logical part of her knew there was no shame in being an Omega, but that didn’t stop the weight of disappointment she felt from her parents when she presented at sixteen.

The law had changed to grant the long-subjugated Omegas equal rights, but society was slow to catch up. Many Alphas still viewed Omegas as their property. George and Analise Beaumont wanted better for their daughter. They wanted her to have choices, to give her the opportunity to decide her own fate. There weren’t many doctors willing to engage in the legal grey area of hormone suppression and reassignment, but the Beaumonts found one. Doctor Lancaster was well compensated for his discretion. He kept Emma on closely monitored hormone therapy that caused her heat cycles to stop and altered her scent to fool even the most virile Alpha.

So long as she kept her mating encounters to Betas only and followed the doctor’s strict instructions, Emma could live her life as an Alpha. Large and in charge. Head of her family’s company, smart and strong enough to defend it against any threat. No one would be the wiser. The family secret kept only by her sister and Doctor Lancaster now that her parents were gone.

There was, of course, one exception that could overcome the medical science and the years of careful planning. True mates. Mostly considered folklore and fairy tales, few people believed in them these days. She had never seen a real-life example of it personally, but she liked to hope. It would never be in the cards for her, but why should others be denied a chance at that kind of happiness?

Emma stopped in front of a display of blown glass globes. A kaleidoscope of colors and sizes. Witches Balls: hang in your window to ward off evil spirits and bad fortune. A smile curved her lips, her little sister was into all kinds of magical stuff. Jess had carried a deck of tarot cards in her purse and stuffed crystals down her bra since she was a teenager. She lived her life with her head in the clouds, dreaming romantic notions and looking for signs from the universe. If Stevie Nicks had a doppelganger that was nearly six foot tall and in her early twenties, that would be Jessica Beaumont. She would probably be reading palms in San Francisco if Emma hadn’t put her to work in the marketing department of Beaumont Enterprises. The Beaumont sisters were as different as night and day, both in looks and in disposition. But that didn’t stop them from being best friends.

She was contemplating the selection when she was hit by the most intense, indescribable feeling. It was as if all the oxygen left the atmosphere, making it impossible to breathe. Every nerve in her body was vibrating with awareness, like a plucked guitar string. Her skin erupted in goosebumps. The air was electric, super charged. She looked around and was frankly shocked no one else seemed to notice it. It wasn’t until the cramp ripped through her stomach that she recognized it. It had been over a decade since she’d experienced it. She was in heat!

Oh God, this is all wrong! This is bad, very, very bad! Catastrophic! Fuck!

Emma was frantically fumbling through her purse to call her sister when another cramp tore through her. The force of it knocked her sideways, causing her sunglasses to clatter to the ground. She grabbed the display table to steady herself. Vaguely, she could hear people asking if she was alright, if she needed help. Emma couldn’t reply. Her body was no longer her own as the dormant Omega within stirred to life. Rational thought was lost to her, replaced by instinct. Her eyes desperately combed the crowd, searching for someone she didn’t know she had been missing. The scent hit first, the most perfect combination of sharp pine and leather held inside a cedar chest. Earthy, calming, and reminiscent of a home she’d never been to before. It soothed and aroused her at the same time.

When he suddenly appeared, it was as if time stopped. His very presence eclipsed everything. No one else existed, just him. The Alpha, her Alpha. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. Her heart sped up as he strode towards her, power and purpose in every step. The crowd of on-lookers parted, wisely giving him wide berth. Interfering with an Alpha seeking out a potential mate was dangerous under the best circumstances.

Lord, he’s tall. She realized when he came to stand before her. Maybe it was the hormones talking, but he was far and away the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Square jaw covered in a neatly trimmed beard and sculpted cheekbones dusted with faint freckles. But oh, his eyes. The most intense shade of clear green, framed by faint laugh lines. Delightful crinkles etched by smiling. He wasn’t smiling now, he looked like he wanted to devour her in the street. He closed his eyes briefly and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply.

When he opened his eyes again, they had darkened, his pupils blown with lust. His intoxicating scent swirled around her and when he spoke her entire body flushed hot with fever. “Omega.”

Dean hated New York City. It was overcrowded and overrated in his opinion. He much preferred the down to Earth, blue collar vibe of Chicago. There was just something about the Midwest that spoke to him. It wasn’t pretentious or pompous. It was real and it was home. Whenever he had to spend time in the Big Apple, he made sure to book a room with a decent view and access to Central Park. It was the only place in the whole damned city he felt he could breathe. It had been a hellishly long week of meetings and negotiations, but his perseverance and skill won out. Deals were struck, contracts signed, and he now was booked for the last flight into O’Hare. It left him just enough time to get in a decent run and a shower before he headed to the airport.

Not that he had to hurry home for anyone in particular. He had his family, of course. His father John retired a few years back when a heart attack sent him packing to a quiet house in the country. Dean had spent his life being groomed to take over Winchester Incorporated. Now, running the family business with his little brother Sam, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. The Winchester name was famous and feared in the world of high finance. Yet for all of his professional success, Dean knew there was a part of his life that was unfulfilled. He had yet to take a mate, which was almost unheard of for an Alpha just one year shy of the big four oh. Alphas needed to claim a mate to avoid going feral. It was a very real possibility and Dean could feel the change already, his ruts were growing more intense and more frequent with each passing year.

But he was willing to risk it for a while longer, just to find her. His Omega, his true mate. The one woman meant especially for him. He knew it was a long shot, but he was a man to play the odds if it meant getting what he wanted. Dean had seen real love up close; his parents had been true mates. They had been perfect for each other and deeply in love, even after twenty years of marriage. It wasn’t long after his mother lost her battle with breast cancer that his father’s health declined. There was a part of Dean that wondered if losing his mate had brought it on.

So there is was. Dean Winchester; virile Alpha, ruthless businessman who dismantled companies and ruined rivals was in fact, a hopeless romantic.

He was three miles in and halfway through Led Zeppelin IV when he caught a scent that stopped him dead in his tracks. Light and sweet with a hint of tart, green apple. It wasn’t strong, but it was distinct. One of the reasons he found New York so stifling was the close quarters, it made for a strange mix of aromas, none of them complimentary or pleasant. Dean inhaled deeply and the Alpha inside growled in response. He spun on his heel and jogged off towards the source of that tantalizing smell. He wove his way through throngs of people, taking no notice of them, he was a man on a mission. The closer he got, the more desperate he became. He had to find her, claim her, his Omega. The scent was taunting him, it never got stronger but more complex. He could make out warm vanilla and flowers he couldn’t remember the name of, although he was certain his mother had them growing in the back garden when he was a child. It was the scent of home, his home. His Omega.

Dean would comb the entire city of New York on foot if he had to, he was nothing if not determined. A hunter to the last, never giving up until he found his prey. As fate would have it, he only had to travel five blocks. She stood completely still as people moved around her, staring at him with huge, wide eyes. Her long, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her mouth full and unpainted. He had always wondered who she would be, what she would look like, what she would feel like. Whatever image he had conjured up in mind over the years paled in comparison to the woman before him. To say she was beautiful didn’t come close to doing her justice. It was so much more than that and somehow simpler, she was perfect. She was his perfect mate, made for him as he was for her. The very thought of it settled him and sent his heart racing at the same time.

He didn’t remember those last few steps to reach her, suddenly she was there, right in front of him. He closed his eyes and inhaled, filling his lungs with the best scent in the world.

“Omega.”

“Alpha,” she breathed in response, then whimpered as another strong cramp took hold.

Oblivious to the crowd of strangers watching the intimate moment, Dean swept her up into his arms and took off at a steady clip towards his hotel. The Alpha was completely in charge now. He took no notice of the startled gasps or speculative glances of the people he passed as he carried her through the city streets. All he cared about was that he had his Omega, and she was in heat. Taking care of her was his only concern and nothing was going to stand in his way.

Emma wrapped her arms around the Alpha’s neck and held tight. She was grateful he was carrying her because the pain in her belly would have knocked her to her knees by now. It was white hot and twisted like an invisible knife. Although she only had one other heat cycle to compare this to, she was certain it hadn’t been this bad. Lord, she was hot! Like she was standing on the surface of the sun. Sweat soaked through her clothes and plastered them to her body. The only thing that gave any relief was the scent of her Alpha, she nuzzled into his neck as close as she could. It enveloped her in a delightful haze, clouding her mind.

“Hang on tight, Omega. I’m going to take care of you,” he rumbled deeply in her ear. “I’m going to take care of everything.”

His words sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine and caused slick at the juncture of her thighs. She squirmed slightly and boldly pressed her lips to his neck, nipping at the pulse hammering there. God, he tastes as good as he smells!

“Alpha,” she whispered, her voice pleading.

Dean tightened his grasp and quickened his pace. His mind barely registering that he had reached his hotel. He wasn’t due for a rut, but with his mate now in his arms, he was close enough. He paid no mind to the clerk at the front desk, heading straight for the elevator. When the stainless-steel doors opened revealing a wide-eyed Beta male in a tweed suit, Dean snarled in warning. No Alpha tolerates another male getting close to their Omega in heat, even if they pose no real threat. The Beta wisely held up his hands in surrender and quickly vacated the area.

Once Dean had them safely sealed inside the lift, he crushed his mouth to hers, sending fresh waves of desire through them both. Harsh and hurried, demanding and aggressive. What the kiss lacked in subtly, it more than made up for in passion. When he swept his hot tongue inside her mouth, she groaned in appreciation and need. He still could only catch the faint wisp of her delicate scent but smell of slick arousal was growing thicker by the second.

By the grace of God, he got them to his room without further interference. The door slammed shut and automatically locked behind them. Emma shifted in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissed every inch of his skin she had access to. She felt drugged, high on the endorphins flooding her system. All thought and logic had gone, leaving pure instinct behind. She had never felt this way before, so consumed by the need to mate. Although she had only been with Betas, something told her that this response wasn’t just because he was an Alpha, it was because he was her Alpha. To her true mate, she was beginning to see what all the fuss was about. The pull was as strong as gravity and just as impossible to deny.

Dean carried her through to the bedroom and lowered her to the mattress. He hovered above her, taking a moment to gaze into the eyes of the woman he had search his whole life for. Blue eyes, dark as midnight and flecked with gold. Desire was there, of course. But there was a glint of challenge he hadn’t expected. Omegas were meant to submit to their Alphas. It was a dynamic as old as time and one he knew well. There was something wild in this Omega, something that begged to be tamed and Dean was up to the task. Oh, she was going to be fun!

He grinned, his white teeth gleaming as he made his way down her body. He refused to free her of her clothes, even though he was eager to see the Omega in all her glory, he waited. She was a gift he was determined to take his time enjoying it. Instead, he ran his hands over her slowly, inch by inch. Feeling her curves and concaves through the layers of cotton. He paused as his hands spanned her ribcage just under her breasts. When his thumb caressed her nipples through the fabric, she arched her back and moaned.

“Alpha, please.”

Ignoring her pleas, he tweaked the hardened peaks slightly before moving on. Narrow waist flared out into generous hips. Body like a backroad, he thought approvingly. His fingers traced her thighs, the back of her knees, down to delicate ankle bones. Her breath became more labored as he teased her, purposely ignored the one part of her anatomy that she most wanted attending to.

Emma was growing impatient and restless. The Omega was urgently mewing inside, searching for relief from the heat that was consuming her. He wanted her; she could feel it when the bulge in his pants brushed against her. What the hell is he waiting for?! Desperate to prompt him into giving her what she wanted, she bucked her hips. Hoping to tempt him with her slick.

In a flash, Dean was on top of her. His hands clamped her wrists down on either side of her head with bruising strength, his body pinned her to the mattress. She couldn’t move if she wanted to. “Now, now. None of that, little Omega,” he murmured into her ear. She groaned in response; her eyes fluttering shut.

Desperate for any sort of friction against her fevered body, Emma drew a deep breath, causing her ribs to expand. Her breasts strained inside her bra, pressing against the firm chest above her. She knew how to use her attributes to entice a mate and when the hungry growl sounded in the back of his throat, she knew she’d succeeded. She turned her mouth towards his but didn’t kiss him. Instead, she pouted prettily and breathed, “Alpha… need you.”

Dean didn’t miss the smirk that played around her lips, this was hardly a submission. She knew exactly what she was doing. Little minx! Fire sparked when her gaze met his, “You’re mine. Only mine.”

She wasn’t prepared for him to move so quickly and so smoothly. Suddenly, her hoodie was gone as well as the cotton camisole underneath. Even her bra was whisked away, leaving her exposed. She relished the cool air on her fevered skin only for a moment before the Alpha replaced it with his hot mouth. He was everywhere, testing and tasting every inch of vulnerable flesh. He traced a fiery path of open-mouthed kissed between her breasts all the way to her stomach. The scruff of his beard scraped in a way that was so pleasant and distracting that when he changed tactics and latched on to one her hardened nipples, she gasped in shock.

It was exquisite, leisurely torture that seemed to go on forever. Her Alpha was certainly not a man to be hurried. His attentions never wavered, no matter how she tried to tempt him and that only served to frustrate her. Stubborn man! He simply refused to go where she wanted him to. The slick was pooling now, no doubt soaking through everything as the burning in her belly grew. She was needy, frantic for his touch.

Suddenly, he brought his hand to cup her firmly through her pants. She arched against his palm, and it was his turn to smirk. He was definitely the one in control now. “There’s my good girl, so wet for me already.”

The rest of her clothes were torn away, leaving her naked and exposed while he was still fully clothed. The message was loud and clear. He was strong, powerful, and irrefutable. It was in Emma’s nature to resist anyone trying to control her. She played the part of Alpha every day. She knew what was expected of her in that role. Hell, she enjoyed it.

To now be the one expected to submit, was foreign and a bit scary. It was possible that after all this time, she didn’t know how to be an Omega. Maybe she had denied her true nature for too long, maybe she would be a disappointment.

However, there was one element that she had failed to consider. The Alpha would take care of her, that was his primary role. No one had ever done that for her before and the Omega inside craved it desperately.

She trembled slightly as Dean’s large, calloused hands roamed over her body. When his eyes searched hers, he saw a flicker of vulnerability. At last, the inner battle between her will and her desire was resolved, and she submitted.

“So beautiful, so perfect,” he praised as he slipped a thick finger inside her throbbing core, probing gently while his thumb rubbed circles around that tight bundle of nerves. He crooked his finger and her velvet walls tightened around him, coating his hand in fresh slick.

“I’m going to make you feel good, ‘Mega,” he kept his pace, adding a second finger while he nuzzled her throat. His tongue lapped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder where her scent gland was hidden just beneath the skin. He could feel her getting close as she fluttered around his fingers.

Every brush of his fingers lit fires. Every touch of his lips was like a brand on her skin. Emma writhed under his attentions, delicious tension building low in her belly. She was teetering on the edge, desperate for the release he was driving her towards. “Alpha…oh God…”

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he commanded, and she obeyed. The orgasm came hard and fast. Her body flooded with pleasure and any remaining pain was washed away. The intensity of it had her eyes rolling back in her head. She was still coming down from the euphoric cloud when she noticed he was now naked as well. Tanned skin stretched taut over well-defined muscles. Lord, he was big. Every part of him was big. Her gaze traveled over broad shoulders, powerful arms, wide chest, lean hips. The sheer size of his erection had her whimpering, greedy with need.

Dean was soon on top of her again, this time his hard length brushed against her folds while his breath was hot in her ear, “I’m going to knot you, ‘Mega mine. Knot you, claim you.” His teeth grazed her throat again, mixing danger and desire. “Is that what you want?”

Unable to find her voice, Emma raked her hands through his short hair and bucked up against him.

Not satisfied, he raised his head to look deeply into her eyes. His arms and legs creating a cage around her body. There would be no going back after this, he had to be sure for both their sakes. “Say it,” his command was gruff. “You have to say it, Omega.”

Perhaps it was the Omega within her responding to a direct command from an Alpha. In a surprising moment of clarity, she looked into the deep, green eyes of the man who had appeared out of the blue. The man whose voice had her shaking with need and whose touch brought her to oblivion. Logic, reason, common sense all seemed so insignificant, overshadowed by instinct. Everything was remarkably clear. “I want you. Claim me, I’m yours. Only yours.”

“My Omega. Mine,” he smiled softly and brushed his lips over hers so tenderly that when he stood up, she nearly cried out at the loss of contact.

“Present, Omega.”

Emma obeyed again, flipping over onto her knees and elbows, she arched her back and thrust her rear up towards him. She hissed as the cool air hit her hyper-sensitive core. His hands were on her again, caressing the curve of her ass, following the line of her hip. He lined himself up and filled her with one powerful thrust. She cried out then, it was sweet agony.

Dean stilled his movements, giving her a moment to adjust and giving himself a moment to breathe. Christ, she’s tight!

When she shifted her hips, he took that as his cue and began to pump. Slow at first, savoring each sensation, each gasp and moan of pleasure that came from them both as he filled her time and time again. Soon his control gave way all together and, in its place, he gained momentum. His knot swelled with each thrust and began to catch.

Dean sucked and licked furiously at the base of her neck, preparing the spot that would bear his mark. “You take my knot so good, ‘Mega… we’re almost there, almost there…”

Emma’s hand fisted the sheets as he picked up the pace, each time he buried himself to the hilt she cried out for more. Her experiences with Betas did little to prepare her for an Alpha. Dean was reaching places no one else had come close to. With each pass, she felt herself tighten around him. “Need it… Alpha… need your knot… need you…”

When Dean felt himself reach the peak he was striving towards, he sunk his teeth deep into her tender skin. His knot popped and locked them together as he came harder than he ever had in his life. Waves of blissful pleasure washed over him, and he lazily pumped a few more strokes to fully empty his seed into his Omega.

Emma nearly blacked out from the mix of sensations that rushed through her body when he claimed her. Pleasure so sharp it was painful. Her mind was a complete haze, barely registering the Alpha cradling her close as he eased them onto their sides. He ran his tongue over the fresh claim over and over again, the wet, warmth of it soothing the bite. Were she capable of coherent thought, she would have tried to fight sleep so not to miss a moment of this event that would change everything. As it was, exhaustion quickly pulled her under and she fell asleep feeling cherished and completely protected.

[minisinmedia]

Elizabeth Montgomery

Emmaline Henry

Barbara Eden

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

Riven's Basic Info

Name: Riven Marcus Hewlett

Faceclaims for Riven came very easily, surprisingly. For the 60s, we have the amazing Frankie Avalon (almost any beach movie from the 60s). For the 80s, there’s Jason Bateman (Teen Wolf Too). For the 90s, I picked Brad Pitt (Fight Club). And, finally, we have Dacre Montgomery for the present (Stranger Things).

Nicknames: Riv, Rivet, and “you ass” (Vivien’s favorite way to greet him)

Age: 19

Date of Birth: October 27

Zodiac: Scorpio

Birthstone: Opal and Pink Tourmaline

Nationality: American and Italian

Sexuality: Straight (though even he questions it sometimes lol)

Birthplace: Salem Hospital, Salem, Massachusetts

Current Residence: Whipple Avenue, Laconia, New Hampshire

Occupation: Photographer/videographer for local businesses and the newspaper, junior tattoo artist at a piercing/tattoo shop in Laconia, Dungeon Master for a small D&D group, drummer in a band he made in high school, and he’s, obviously, a competitive skater. He wants to become a director someday, but he’s saving his money for now.

Talents/Skills: He somehow knows people's secrets without having them tell him, he draws things pretty realistically, he’s known for telling the truth all the time, but he’s a fairly convincing liar, and he’s great at filmmaking, which is useful for any short films Vivien and the boys want to make.

Birth order: Only child

Parents: Anthony Hewlett and Emmaline Russo

Signature:

Height: 6’2” or 189cm

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Auburn brown, but it looks golden brown in certain lighting

Glasses or contact lenses: He needed glasses as a child, but had surgery to correct his eyes once he turned 18.

Distinguishing features: His nose crinkles when he laughs and he has two tattoos - a snake on his collarbone and lightning on his ribcage - but he and Vivien both agreed to get matching space tattoos when she turns 18.

Mannerisms: Tapping his feet along to music whether it’s in his head or not, constantly checking the time when he’s nervous, picking at the skin around his fingernails, and he always stacks up plates and silverware for waitstaff when he eats out so it will be easier for them to take.

Health: Had terrible eyesight as a kid, is allergic to pollen, and has allergy-induced asthma.

Hobbies: Protecting those he cares about, contributing to chaos, taking in injured animals, playing drums (he’s the one who taught Vivien how to play), and exploring abandoned places (once again, if you think that’s how Vivien started, you’d be right).

Greatest flaw (in their opinion): How selfless he can be sometimes. Riven treats others’ lives as more important than his own and will do anything it takes, even sacrificing himself, to keep them safe. A prime example of this is his relationship with Vivien. She is like a little sister to him and has been for most of his life, so he would do anything for her. He’s almost gotten arrested to protect her once when they were in an abandoned school and someone called the cops on them. He puts himself at risk for those he loves and he knows that will be his downfall someday.

Best quality (in their opinion): His best quality and greatest flaw are pretty much the same things - his infinite loyalty to those he considers friends/family.

Biggest fear: Dying. He’s had a few close calls before - one including a skating accident and another coming home from a band session on wet roads - and the thought of dying genuinely terrifies him.

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Favorite ice cream: Chocolate fudge brownie (or, as he calls it, Death By Chocolate)

Favorite color: Sage green

Favorite numbers: 33 and 74

Favorite songs: Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus, Perfume by Lovejoy, and In The End by Linkin Park

Favorite movies: White Chicks, The Karate Kid, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Free Guy, and Ratatouille

Favorite TV shows: Loki, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Chernobyl, Game of Thrones, and Attack on Titan (he has watched both the English and Japanese versions, and is very proud of the fact that he knew enough Japanese to understand most of what they were saying without subtitles)

Favorite books: You’ll Be the Death of Me by Karen M. McManus, Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Six of Crows, and The Count of Monte Cristo

Favorite video games: Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture, The Walking Dead, and Baldur’s Gate 3

A musical they like: Starlight Express

A place they want to visit: Puerto Rico (mostly for the old cars that are very popular there)

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Your apartment floods. Inspired by and for @liliumbosniacum

"I need to take leave."

Simon's phone is pressed against his face, one hand holding the device, the other with a canvas bag in his hand, it's contents overflowing: blankets, baby clothes, your pillow.

"Everything alright?" Price sounds suspicious, but more curious than anything, and Simon sighs.

"Neighbor's flat flooded. She's got nowhere else to go so I'm letting 'em stay with me for a while." Price, thank fucking god, doesn't push it any further, disconnecting with a rumble about checking in with him next week, wishing him a happy holiday, and a parting good luck.

When he hangs up, you're standing hesitantly in his doorway, pile of clothes in your arms.

"That the last of it?" He asks, and you nod.

"Are y-you sure this is okay?" You're still upset, shaken, and he doesn't blame you. You were terrified when you woke up to bone chilling, ankle deep water, frantically shouting about a burst pipe into the phone over Emmaline's shrieks.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've got plenty of room." He does. His flat is larger than yours, and though they're both two bedroom floor plans, his bedrooms are bigger, and he has two bathrooms, compared to your one. "I got the crib reassembled in the guest room." He motions to the door that's half opened, a few bags of Emmaline's stuff collected on the floor.

"Thank you." you murmur, and then step forward, burying your face in his chest. He holds you there, rubbing your back, working his thumb into the knot that sits at the base of your neck. “At least we saved the tree,” you laugh, wet and sad, and he hums, bowing to press his lips to your forehead.

“I’m sorry love.”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Nothing I could control.” You’ve got a point there, and he appreciates the approach, marvels at your ability to not be angry or frustrated with your neighbor, even though it wasn’t really their fault as well. He’s irritated for both of you, anxious over visualizing what would have happened if the chunk of the ceiling that fell was misplaced and landed on you, or Emma.

You pull away, face twisted up into something that looks painful, tears on your lash line, and he frowns. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart, c’mon. It’s alright.”

“I know.” You cry, clamping your hand over the bridge of your nose and trying to turn away. “It’s just all her gifts we-were in my room and now they’re ruined, and-“

“Okay, so we’ll get more. We still have plenty of time.” He reassures, rubbing his palms up and down your arms until you come back to him, letting him fold you back into his embrace. “We’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

“We will?” You sniffle, and he nods.

“I’m on leave, until after the holiday, so I’ll be around, we can go shopping and replace everything. It’s going to be alright. I promise.” That word slips out of him again, promise. I promise, just like he told you this morning when you were frantic and he said it was okay that you stayed with him, I promise, just like he assured last night when you apologized for Emmaline crying for most the evening. “Okay?” His chin rests on the top of your head, and he turns to kiss you, the touch as soft as he can manage. You hum, and then sigh into him.

“Okay Simon.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” His refusal is immediate, and you look at him in near exasperation.

“Simon I can’t kick you out of your bed! You’re too big for the couch, anyway, and I don’t mind, I’ve slept on a couch plenty. Plus I’ll be able to hear better, when Emmaline wakes-“

“Sweetheart.” You’re in the living room, bouncing Emmaline in your arms, walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. She’s wearing a red and white striped onesie, like a candy cane, and Simon chuckles when she makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. You sigh, and he tucks his hands under her, lifting her away and into his arms, pleased at how you instantly relax and stretch your back and shoulders in response. “Think you’re getting too big for mama, baby girl.” You roll your eyes, playfully knocking your elbow into his side, and he grunts. “You’re not kicking me out of my own bed.”

“No?” You turn with a hand on your hip, other one holding a half full bottle.

“No, well. I mean-“ he falters, suddenly losing his confidence. “I’m happy to let you have it, or…” He can’t get the words right, can’t communicate what it is he wants to tell you, too worried about scaring you off or being too forward, pushing you too far.

“Or?” You look so pretty, standing in his flat, your belongings, Emma’s, strewn about, just your presence alone making this place feel more like a home than it ever has before. He feels dizzy, overflowing with emotion when Emma lays her head down on his chest, and you smile at her, looking back up at him, delicate, sweet smile on your lips. He bends, tilting your face upwards to meet his, lips ghosting against one another as Emma coos from his arms.

“Or… we can share it.”

[roosterbruiser]

⭐️ Director's cut for the Jake and Filly sex talk in the back of the truck?

I love all the ones you've done so far btw they're so fascinating!!!!!!

thank you so much, bestie!! that's so sweet!! I really enjoy dissecting scenes!!

so! the scene in the back of the truck!

what I really love about this is how shamelessly they discuss sex. it's very frank and they aren't shying around anything. Filly isn't embarrassed to admit that she doesn't know what sex is like.

Jake throws his arm around you, pulling you against his chest. It’s a movement that you are both used to and it doesn’t feel different now that you’ve made him cum and he’s touched you the way he has. It still feels like it always has: safe, natural, warm, solid. 

“What’s sex like?” You ask after a moment. 

The Pabst is apparently sitting between your throat and mouth now. 

But Jake doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t chide or tease. He just swallows, inhaling your Marlboro and sighing gently. 

“S’different with everyone,” he answers. Then he reaches over and plucks the cigarette from your fingers, taking a long drag. He resists the urge to cough as the smoke coats his throat and lungs, his fingers drawing nervous shapes on your bare arm. “Like, it ain’t the same with Emmaline as it was with Grace Lynn or Christy.” 

I also really love how honest Jake is about everything. he isn't embarrassed about having sex with other people and he doesn't make Filly feel embarrassed about having questions and not knowing anything about sex.

“Okay,” you sigh, taking the cigarette back from him and bringing it back to your own lips. You’ve been wondering about this, like everyone does, since your very first encounter with Jake. You haven’t gotten anything even remotely close to the sex talk--you’re not sure where to begin. “So, what was it like the first time?” 

Jake breathes out, humming. 

It was bad the first time. He was nervous, she was nervous. He came very quickly. She didn’t cum at all. She cried. He didn’t even take his shirt off. 

“Not great,” he answers honestly. He knows you would call him out for lying if he dared. “Lots of people make real messes of it the first time. I definitely did.”

“Howso?” You ask. 

I also love that Filly is jealous, but doesn't know what that feeling is or how to verbalize it. I imagine that the heat she feels--that white-hot jealous--is pretty overpowering. but she's too stubborn to admit it at all.

This time, you hold the cigarette to his lips and he takes another drag despite the ache in his chest. 

“Didn’t know what I was doin’, really. Didn’t use a condom, too, so I came, like, right away,” he laughs softly, shaking his head. You’re not laughing, though. The white hot pain is back. “And, you know, she just wasn’t someone that I wanted to have sex with again. We were just young and wanted it.” 

send me a ⭐ if you want my commentary on a certain story! or send in a part you want me to give commentary on!