#he deserves that. self care moment. allow yourself to go feral.

[aurantiumred]

granting Jason full rights to scream at the top of his lungs during The Incident™ at the end of blood of olympus. i did too buddy.

he has rights to have at least one mental breakdown.

[lulablogss]

Somnophiliac ; L Lawliet

kinktober master list | non-gender specific reader

TW: SOMNOPHILIA, dubcon, established relationship, penetration, minimal prep

With L working so hard on the Kira Case, it was always late nights and a poor sleep schedule. Most nights when you were winding down to rest, he was just getting started at his work.

But on nights like these when he was forced home early by Watari - He kind of dreaded it in a way. You were almost always sleep at this time; the house feels so empty and lifeless at this hour. At least at work his head were drowned out with the case and not his own personal thoughts.

He couldn't be upset with you though, not in the slightest. You need your sleep; he respects that and understands he is different from you. If anything, he questioning how you put up with him. He doesn't deserve you; he thinks. You're too understanding.

-

He creeps into the house, quietly placing his set of keys next to yours. He scans the hallways for your presence while making his way to the kitchen. It's grown to be a bit of a routine now. He comes home, makes his way to the kitchen, grabs the tupperware sitting on the counter island, and read the note accompanying it.

'made tonkatsu & there's cake in the fridge for you sweets :)'

He dryly smiles at the sticky note while opening up his serving and going to eat it Infront of his computer.

It takes him 30 minutes to finish up his dinner and dessert. Walking back into the kitchen, he rinses his bowl and cutlery then place them in the dishwasher, starting up the cycle with the already previously loaded dishes, thanks to you. The room is completely quiet when he enters, and the bedroom window is cracked. The open window allows the night breeze to sweep throughout the room and the moonlight to reflect in.

Quietly he walks over to your side of the bed and watches your sleeping figure as you softly breathe in and out. His breath slightly hitches at the sight of your cute sleepwear. Your upper half is covered with an old tank top, while wearing only a pair of underwear.

The bedsheets are messily strewn about your body, your erratic sleeping to thank for that. L eyes scan every inch of your body that's available, unaware of the growing strain in his pants. It's not until he leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead does he feel his hard self rub against the mattress. He groans softly and pulls away. Now that he's thinking about it, he can't quite remember the last time he'd had sex with you.

One of you were always tired or preoccupied with work. As he felt himself getting more aroused by the second, he couldn't help but to stop and think about how tired you must be. He wouldn't dare to wake you for his own selfish needs. So, he's sure you wouldn't mind if did so without waking you. It's not like you minded before.

So, without further thought he softly removed the sheets from your body completely. Goosebumps prickled your skin as the cold night air met your body. He softly dragged his hands up and down your uncovered legs, admiring your body like art. He lifts up your shirt, planting soft saccharine kisses from your neck to your clavicle, down to your chest.

He pays special attention to your chest, sucking and licking your nipples and all else where it counts. Your breath picks up in your sleep, and it turns him on more. His hands caress your sides while he leaves hickeys and soft love bites on you. Moments like these he can't help but get feral - carnally turned on by marking you up for others.

Your chest rises up and down slowly yet dramatically while leaning into his touch. Once he's satisfied with how he's left your top half he moves down to your bottom. Gently removing your bottoms, throwing them to a corner.

You're on full display now, unbeknownst to yourself, all while still soundly asleep. He rubs his hands down your smooth thighs, caressing you with care.

A soft moan slips from his mouth as stares at your body in anticipation. He slides up on the bed more and pushes his hands under you - gripping your hips as you lay still on your back. His face now level with your leaking hole. "you're already excited hmm?" he rhetorically asks, knowing you can't answer.

He pulls you closer, his mouth right on your crotch - but he suddenly feels rather impatient. Reaching over you, he opens the bed side table and grabs the first lubricant bottle he sees. He pumps a small squirt onto his hands then applying it to both his angry red sensitive tip and your semi prepped hole.

Your body shudders at the cold sensation, and your eyes squeeze tighter. L rubs in the lube to ensure easy nonabrasive insertion. He then takes cock into his hands, rubbing the lube up and down his length while softly moaning at the friction.

He crawls up the bed so that his face is at level with yours. His hands are at either side of your head, he quietly observes your face, freezing when you slightly stir in your sleep.

The moonlight is slightly faded, though now his eyes are accustomed to the dark - giving him the advantage of seeing the little details of your body. He leans down closer into you, pushing his tip in you little by little.

The room is quiet, safe from the soft whistling of the night air. He moans a soft fuck as he feels your insides tighten and pull him in close.

"you really want this," he justifies, slowly thrusting into you - his raven eyes watching you intently for any changing expression. Your eye brows slightly furrow as he fills you out, as a faint pant falls from your lips at his steadying pace.

Even though the slow pace is working wonders, hes getting impatient - he wants to not wake you but fuck you feel so good, and god do i want to cum in you, he thinks. His pace is slow yet harsh, and hes moaning out now; uncaring who hears.

Hes just near to his climax when a phone goes off. He quickly panics around and reach for the phone but it's too late.

"L?"

main master list

[sourholland]

based off of taylor swift’s song style

a/n → well i bet some people didn’t expect this story to be updated again, however here i am and here it is. this is chapter 4. what mostly inspired me to try and finish this series is the continuous love i have received through it. there were a lot of people who told me how much they enjoy it and who am i to deny them. however i know that it’s been a year since i’ve updated this so if you want off of the taglist because of disinterest, please let me know!!! same goes for wanting to be on the taglist, just lmk 🩵

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language, nsfw content

word count → 3.4k

reblog and leave some comments if you enjoy!!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 4

“He’s fucking obsessed with you,” Sydney reasoned with you, listening to you finally debrief everything that had gone on between you and Joe over the last few weeks. “If you seriously start with all of this self-sabotage bullshit, I’m gonna kill you.”

Lena sat criss cross on the floor, silent and turning over the information you had given her carefully. Sydney was sitting on the couch beside you, knees pulled up to her chest as she spooned more ice cream into her mouth. It had been days since you slept over at Joe’s and besides a few text conversations and fleeting glances at the stadium, nothing more had happened between the two of you.

“She’s right,” Lena finally chimed in, her mass of curls held up in a claw clip she’d stolen from you during freshman year. “He’s obsessed.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned over dramatically and buried your face into the throw pillow on your couch and screamed into it. If he was so obsessed, why hadn’t he called? Maybe because you completely overreacted after seeing one text on his phone like a psycho bitch, you thought to yourself begrudgingly. He probably thought you were crazy and territorial over guys you weren’t even with.

“I think I ruined it when I left the bar,” you sighed, considering screaming into the pillow again like a child.

“Oh my god, shut up. Men are so simple and literally do not care about stuff like that, I’m telling you. If he told you he let it go, he let it go. There’s no reason to overthink it,” Sydney assured you with a half-full mouth of chocolate ice cream. “Do you remember when I was fucking with Josh sophomore year and found out he was still hooking up with that one girl on the lacrosse team? Lily or whatever the fuck her name was–whatever, not the point–but do you remember when I deadass asked the front desk of our dorm building for a pair of scissors and walked a mile to where his car was parked and slashed three of his tires. Yeah, well he still hits me up. Men do not give a fuck.”

Lena had begun clutching her stomach in fits of laughter, rolling onto her back and shaking her head with tears prickling the corners of her eyes. You clapped a hand over your mouth, kicking Sydney and recalling how feral the three of you had been during your freshman and sophomore year. Moments like these made you wish the three of you were already living together again, as you had the prior three years. Well, Sydney shared a suite with you and Lena sophomore year and the three of you got an apartment junior year. After you told your parents that you planned to stay in Cincinnati after graduation, they knew you would need a place and gave you your graduation present early–a down payment on an apartment and your first month's rent. 

Cheering with the Bengals and substitute teaching on the side allowed you to save a little, but most of your money went towards bills. Lena and Sydney were planning to move in and split the cost three ways as soon as your prior lease was up. They had agreed to take on your portion of rent when you moved out of your previous apartment two months ago, knowing they wouldn’t have to put any money away for the down payment when they did move in with you. They still had about three weeks left until the lease was up, but you had all spent weeks packing up the other apartment slowly but surely. There were enough rooms for each of you to get your own, one was just significantly smaller than the other two. Lena had volunteered to take the space immediately, claiming she didn’t mind the lack of closet space or squeaky door.

Lena never had it in her to mind anything like that, she always just brushed it off and said it didn’t bother her one bit. She told you she was just excited to live with her two sisters, making you cry on the spot and tell her how much you appreciated her. Sydney would have taken the small room, she just wouldn’t have been happy about it and somehow both you and Lena knew she would find closet space one way or another. 

“I can’t wait for Joe Burrow to be sitting in my kitchen,” said Lena, letting Sydney spoon ice cream into her mouth now. “Or what about when you guys are fucking–”

“Lena!” You took the pillow you had been yelling into and pressed it into your flaming cheeks.

“Okay wait, answer honestly and don’t be modest. How big?” she swallowed, clasping her hands together in front of her, ready to inch them apart. “Tell me when to stop.”

“You’re both insufferable!” 

Lena, however, only continued to move her hands apart from each other with wide eyes when you still hadn’t said to stop. She hit the solid length, you nearly wheezed the word out with tears freely streaming down your face as all three of you clutched your abdomens in hysterics and girlish giggles.

“Do you need a third or what?” Sydney joked, already having pulled Joe’s Instagram up to stalk for the millionth time.

“Obviously,” you gave her a playful once over and winked, sending the three of you into fits of laughter again. 

⋆------------⋆

Practices leading up to the next preseason game against the Giants were brutal. Coaches were through with putting up with excuses and mistakes, leaving most of you on the team crying by the end of the night. When they wanted you to suffer, you suffered. Some of the senior girls who had been cheering with the team for a few years tried their best to ease the anxieties of the less-veteraned girls.

Everything hurt, all the time. Your back and legs mostly, but the soreness in your thighs and glutes made even warmups painful.

“Y/N!” Coach Traci’s voice bellowed. “What are you doing with your arms? How many times have I told you that if you can’t get this, I’m moving you back for our sideline dance sequences so you’re less visible?”

“Multiple times,” your voice came out as a little more than an embarrassed squeak. “I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Don’t be sorry, be better.”

You had to get your mind straight, shaking off the criticism and putting everything into the next time you ran the dance. Coach Traci nodded at you, the only acknowledgement of improvement that you would get for tonight. After the shitshow that was the Cardinals game, you knew better than to balk or disrespect anyone during practices. Everyone was strung out and tired, it was during a water break when you realized Joe was perched in his usual spot, headphones around his neck and running through some easy sprints. 

Good fucking god, had he heard your scolding? The thought brought you back to high school, the feeling of getting a question blatantly wrong in front of your crush or being reprimanded in front of the class for talking too loudly during a lesson. That same flutter of uneasiness left you feeling uncomfortable within your own skin, distracted again but pushing the thoughts aside in order not to repeat the whole embarrassing ordeal.

Joe was doing his absolute best job of casually sitting in on as many cheer practices as possible. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for either of you, but he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t using the fact that he is who he is to do his workouts wherever he wanted around the facility without a second glance from anyone. There were very few people meandering around, telling Joe what to do. With his injury, he was just now getting back into light conditioning and drill work so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to remain at the stadium to workout after practice had ended. He was watching from the sidelines most practices, occasionally being able to do a few workouts and passing the football around while everyone ran plays. 

He would take advantage of the opportunity to watch you while it was the most inconspicuous.

Practice unsurprisingly went late. Joe had disappeared back inside at some point, to finally go home you assumed. Once you were heaving and your body felt like pure jelly, you were finally allowed to go and grab your things and head in to shower. There were two text messages from Joe, delivered fifteen minutes prior.

Joe: Text me when you’re done

Joe: Actually do you wanna do what you gotta do and meet me in our locker room??

This boy is genuinely idiotic if he thinks you’re just waltzing into the team locker room, facility still far from emptied out. You ignored the messages until you got into your own locker room, sitting on a bench and shaking your head at his idea once again. Joe had absolutely nothing to lose here, that much was obvious from the start. You were a completely different story, though.

Y/N: Joe omg

Y/N: There are cameras everywhereeeeeeeee

Y/N: Can you just call me later?

Joe: No

Joe: Just go around the long way, don’t take the hall Emily’s office is on and come around from the other side. 

When you didn’t respond right away, he texted again.

Joe: The security camera isn’t facing the door, it’s facing who comes down that main hallway

Joe: I swear no one is gonna see you, the cameras will literally only get you taking a different hallway to walk out of the building and we can leave out of different doors

Y/N: You’re actually insane

Y/N: How do you even know what ways the camera faces???

Joe: I just walked out of the locker room and looked

Joe: I basically walked the whole thing, everyone went home 

Joe: Obviously not your team but yk what I mean, your coaches office is on the complete other side of the building 

Y/N: Go home, Joe :)

Joe: Please

Your thumbs hovered over the letters ‘N’ and ‘O’, but there was a part of you that couldn’t deny how excited the idea of seeing him again made you. The sneaking around had your gut twisting in a way that had all of your rational thoughts going right out the door. You’re pathetic, you told yourself as you glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one watched you type your next message.

Y/N: You need to see me so bad that you’re saying please?

Joe: Desperately

Y/N: Oh you’re good lmao

Joe: So I’ll see you in fifteen

Liking the message, you put your head in your hands for a moment and huffed a laugh as you finally turned on the shower and stripped yourself of the now sweaty practice clothes. Most of the girls showered at home after night practices, so only a few remained readying to leave. You took your time, double shampooing and ensuring as many people as possible had departed from the practice facility. 

“Good night, girl!” Carolina called out, walking out the door and leaving only you.

“Night, Carol!”

With shaky breaths, you brushed your wet hair once again and looked into the mirror. You had no makeup on and wore shorts and a Bengals hoodie now, which did nothing for your confidence as you walked out of the locker room with your bag in hand and cast your eyes downward. In your attempts to look unsuspicious, you took the long back hallway that wrapped around the inside of the stadium. There was the muffled sound of the janitors' speakers, but they were far from where you were and each office and support center looked desolate and left for the night.

The door to the players’ locker room was slightly ajar, leaving you to glance around again and double check Joe’s camera assessment. He was right, there was a camera on the end of the hallway, but it faced the opposite direction and caught whoever took the main entrance inside of this part of the building. Quickly, you slipped into the much nicer locker room and shut the door behind you. 

“That was twenty-five minutes,” Joe’s voice sounded from behind you.

“This is a stupid idea,” you cast him a playfully annoyed glance and locked the door behind you, turning to find him in shorts and a black T-shirt. “You’re a really bad influence, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he walked towards you with such ease that you wouldn’t have believed he was just bed-ridden from surgery. His fingers found the hem of your hoodie, smirking down at you in his usual arrogantly charming manner. “I’m still glad you came, though. Even if I compromise your moral judgment so badly.”

He is so fucking hot, you thought as he continued fiddling with your sweatshirt. How is it possible to have this much sex appeal? How is it humanly possible for anyone to resist a look like his? Your entire body was on fire, swallowing hard and wondering once again how you wound up here with him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed. “I know I keep saying that and you’re probably sick of it. It’s true, though.”

The pads of his thumb and index finger brushed your bare torso, the circular motion leaving you breathing a bit heavier. His touch was less feverish than usual, more gentle and fleeting like he wanted you to know how much he wanted you. Hardly blinking, you let the tense silence guide you towards him in a way that left you practically flush against each other. Joe’s breathing hitched, giving you those sultry bedroom eyes and stupid smirk.

This time it was you who could no longer resist, kissing him softly as if to say that you, too, could not stop thinking of him. He slid his arms around your lower back, allowing you to wrap yours around his neck. Your back arched slightly at the long kiss, his right hand lowering to grab your ass and squeeze. He somehow maneuvered the two of you farther into the locker room between open-mouth, breathy kisses. Your back collided with the wall to the right of the sequence of open lockers, his mouth on your neck and biting gently at the skin of your collarbone. 

He pulled your hoodie off, throwing it somewhere behind him. Your fingers found his hair, tugging as he marked your chest up ravenously. A problem for later, you pushed the thought away and let your head roll to the side as he palmed both of your breasts through the fabric of your sports bra, occasionally leaving a hum of pleasure against the soft skin between your breasts. He kissed down your stomach and held you roughly by one hip, sinking to his knees looking up at you asking permission. 

“Did you know this was going to happen when you texted me?” You teased, still holding onto him by his hair. 

“When I texted you,” he started, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I prayed to god that this would happen, but I figured you were gonna tell me to fuck off.”

With a playful shove of his head, you looked away with blazing skin and blown pupils. Joe pulled down your shorts in one quick motion, running his hands down your hips and thighs with a lustful expression. He kissed you over the fabric of your underwear, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. There was no denying the arousal dripping from you, wetting your panties, leaving Joe to raise an eyebrow and flash you an egotistical grin. A breathy moan escaped you and he stopped, causing a near-whimper to come from you.

“Quiet, baby,” he chided softly, “I need you to be quiet or we’re both fucked.”

The fact that he had called you baby was something to dissect tomorrow, you only inhaled sharply at his words. He looked up at you again with hair falling over his forehead, “can you be quiet for me?”

If he kept looking at you like that, you would do just about anything for him. You gave him a nod and he kneaded the flesh of your thigh now, finally pulling your underwear down and discarding them carelessly. He wrapped your right leg around his shoulder, on his knees before you.

“Can’t say that I’m complaining at this sight, right where you belong,” you whispered, cheekily.

“You’re hilarious,” he rolled his eyes and pinched your backside. “I’m on my knees for you anytime, just say the word.”

He didn’t give you even a second to respond, tonguing you with such desperation that your toes curled the second he put his mouth on you. Your slick had already coated his mouth and chin, his tongue running between your folds as his nose brushed the bundle of nerves. You struggled to keep quiet, eyes squeezing shut as you rocked your hips into his mouth and relished in each breathy moan that escaped him and reverberated against your center. 

His thumb went to your clit, rubbing feverishly at the bud and watching you turn to putty in his hands. Your legs began to shake violently, wondering how much longer you could stand the tight coiling in your belly. One of your hands remained in his hair, the other gripped the hard wall for any semblance of steadying as he devoured you. 

He grunted against you, picking up his pace and letting his hands explore as you bit back each and every sound you wished to make. He steadied you as you came undone, panting and unable to move or see. Stars clouded your vision, black spots causing you to close your eyes and breathe for a moment as you regained feeling of your body again.

The handle of the door shook, someone was trying to get in.

“Fuck,” you whispered at Joe, who was already carefully dropping your leg and reaching back to grab your shorts and hoodie. 

You slid the shorts on, throwing the hoodie over your head and letting Joe silently lead you farther back into the locker room where the showers were. He gave you a look that said to sit tight and make no noise. He didn’t look nearly as nervous as you, legs still gelatin and causing you to have to lean back against the wall to ensure your balance.

“Anyone in there?” A man’s voice sounded, muffled slightly from the distance now between you and the door. 

“Yeah!” Joe called out as casually as possible, he sauntered over to the door and flicked the lock and opened it. A janitor stood before him, cart beside him to clean. “Hey, Phil. I stayed late tonight, I don’t know why I locked the door. Must’ve been a reflex.”

Phil nodded slowly, he looked into the locker room and saw it all emptied out. Joe rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing and waiting for the man to say something. Phil only coughed and averted his eyes when he saw the lilac underwear balled up on the floor. He met Joe’s eyes and muttered that he’d come back around once he left, but not to be more than ten more minutes. Joe gave him a gracious thanks and sighed in relief as the man retreated down the hallway and brought his cart into another room, shutting the door behind him and turning his radio up considerably louder than he’d ever heard him play it.

“You can come out now,” he said, turning around and seeing the panties on the ground. He had no clue if Phil had seen them, but he also had no doubt that Phil was no busybody or gossip at his ripe age of at least seventy. 

“Do I get to keep these?” He asked as you came out from the showers, holding them up and smirking.

“Did I or did I not say that this was a stupid idea?” 

“Is that a yes or a no?”

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[weebsinstash]

I’m honestly living for the potential Miguel angst in your YouTwo fics, like him realising it’s pretty much entirely his fault that you got so injured/traumatised. Excellent Yandere potential right here lmaoo.

No but really, because like your standard edition default yandere could be like "oh, you're so weak and delicate, only I can protect you, only I deserve to have you, oh you're so wonderful and lovely, you are incapable of actually truly taking care of yourself like i can" and you know all the mushy shit that is varying degrees of truth and delusion

And here you have Miguel, who like, let's look on "the timeline" that we've kind of established here, ok, because, wow does he have some reasons to uh, go feral

-you guys have a cordial, team-up kind of first meeting against an anomaly in your home dimension, you wind up being invited to Spider Society, one day your home universe is JUST GONE while you're out and about in Nueva York or elsewhere

-You're like basically homeless, traumatized, depressed, like what was all of that for, what was all your suffering for, those deaths and tragedies you experienced, you SUFFERED to be a Spider, and now, your home is gone, what does this mean, like, you have the most justifiable existential crisis one can imagine, you had a DESTINY my dude! And it's GONE NOW, POOF

-Spider Society becomes new home, new community, new thing to keep you going and alive and grounded and they all like you and sometimes you think you're actually happier than ever, you feel very loved and supported, even teach your own class, people like you, little do you know how much lol

-but you still have depression and anxiety and self doubts but hey everyone supports you 🥺 part of being a Spider is picking yourself back up right?

-youtwo shows up, you feel weird, somwqhat threatened by their presence but, also some kinship actually, maybe they even feed you some story either genuine or a lie and you allow them to be you once or twice, they get drunk on it, kind of trick you, fans out, starts stealing your identity. Suddenly what purpose you had in your life is at question. If anything and everything you can do can simply be replicated, what use is there for you? Whatever depression and issues you have before are amplified

-members of the community start mistaking you for the replica and treat you varying degrees of disregard to outright disrespect and you wonder what that means, if they were all just nasty liars to "real you" or if you were just never really that special or anything to begin with and they just latched onto "real you" for some random reason

-you get framed for something youtwo does,sabotaging a big society construction project that you saved the day on but got injured for. YouTwo doesn't even need to pretend it wasn't them, you're framed and people believe it, they believe the narrative that you wanted to feel needed and set this up to be the hero and people treat you with either pity or disgust or just coddling "oh, poor them :( they shouldn't have done that though..."

-you just kind of start hating everyone because it's at the point where now YouTwo hasn't just stolen your life but put you in a position where EVEN WHEN your identity was believed, your reputation and relationship with others is tarnished. Like picture with me here, put yourself in the moment, you're crying you're feeling so sad and outraged because you genuinely cannot believe what you're hearing as Miguel stands there forcing himself to be emotionless and saying "the footage doesn't lie and we have a witness" and it's just YouTwo planting bombs and they stole your costume or were manipulating people and spreading lies or something, and you're just, like, feeling literally fucking violated that this is happening to you, you're literally sitting there with like a hip or broken femur because of being injured in the incident, where you also saved other people by the way, and you're being accused of being the perpetrator, after everything you've done for them, with them, after never having done this sort of thing before, you're just. Outraged doesn't begin to describe it. Whether you love or respect him you can't believe someone who was like family to you, not just him but by extension all of them, would do this to you. You're more alone than ever, and stuck in a wheelchair where they try to pitying dote on you while you completely clam up and some of them interpret it as guilt and you eventually just tell all of them to leave you the fuck alone (again, a little interpreted as guilt)

-Miguel like legitimately thinks he's doing what's best for you. The time he finally truly sides with YouTwo and winds up actually hurting you the worst is when he's trying to be like, "see I finally believe you, Im sorry I doubted you, I'll fix this I promise, I'll get rid of the second one" and he's saying it all to. YouTwo. Like imagine how bad that fucking hurts. You're either crying or just laughing at the absurdity of it, either weeping or actively antagonizing him until you blip away from having your bracelet broken/removed when you're "exiled"

-after you're gone, that's when he realizes how BAAAAAAADLY he's fucked up. He's got definitive evidence the you in front of him is the fake, he has no idea where you are, if even that you're alive. really, you glitching away instead of outright dying basically makes you an anomaly, even more than before anyways. Maybe the fact you just vanish instead of have the whole cell death thing gives him hope that you're still out there and he obsessively searches for you, but can never find you

-until one day when he's at his near breaking point, I mean this man is hanging on by THREADS at this point, you just, glitch back into his life. Like a miracle. And you're hungry. And you're cold. And you're hurt. And you need help and he NEEDS you, needs to be the one to help you, to atone for what's happened, especially when he sees your deteoriated state mentally, physically, and emotionally. Like. He latches on to you like a parasite, please please PLEASE let him make this up to you he is like BARELY holding himself together he NEEDS you and needs to help you (oh wow that whole construction disaster "causing a problem to reap the benefits of fixing it" is unintentionally coming back full circle for you ain't it dude, the apollo gift of prophecy levels of projection lmao)

And you know I mentioned in the past "what if you get rescued by another Miguel and latch onto him" but like if Reader is so emotionally and mentally worn down, I think really having "your" Miguel so desperate for your forgiveness and seeming so genuinely attached to you would really sort of activate the Oh God I Just Need Someone To Love Me And Need Me insecurities and traumas. You wake up from a good rest after first coming back and he's apologizing to you profusely and you just kind of break down and immediately accept him back because you just. Need to feel like you matter. Like the toxic codependency of you needing to feel loved and him desperately wanting to make things up to you, giving you any praise or affection or attention he wants to give you and you feeling somehow reassured by the dedication, but also him being in this position of power and authority over you where he, if he wants to, has extreme control over your life. You're just over here barely keeping it together and critically depressed and needing hugs and needing to matter and you have this hulking almost 7 foot behemoth of trauma of grief who has a More Than Unhealthy Attachment to you who does have Intentions is now being fully in control of your care, of your safety, of your environment, with a heightened emotional investment in just. Literally everything about you

Oh yeah, he's all too happy to give you food and shelter after your traumatizing multiverse travels. But he also didn't want to let you leave in the first place. Now he won't let you. He's partially convinced he shouldn't ever let you out of his sight ever again, period. He's just becoming Downright Mentally Unstable because not only have these things happened to you, between you and him, but also, there were people who helped YouTwo, helped the scheme, whether intentionally or not, and now he's more untrusting of his peers and surroundings. He grows colder to the ones he doesn't trust. He programs his own watch to give him notifications on your status on those occasions you're apart like when he has to go fight anomalies, which is suddenly magically Way Too Dangerous for you to do anymore you're basically on house arrest

You really truly become All He Has Left, like borderline his reason for living at this point besides his own motivations and drive as Spiderman 2099 and his mission to protect the multiverse. But you're a big thing keeping him going. Even if you don't love him, he'll make sure to stay by your side and not leave you ever again. He won't make the same mistake twice, he promises. You just have to give him the time to prove it

[theamityelf]

I also would like to hear about Makoto also being kidnapped because if dr1 is anything to go off of he would be put into a bunch of dangerous situations for the sake of finding clues or taking down the mastermind and come back alive.

Also the prospect of Kokichi lashing out because he thinks he's lost the one person who believed in him and Makoto wanting SO BADLY to comfort him or make him understand but can't during this situation. Then later when he gets kidnapped when there is time, Makoto tries to make him understand that he has NEVER stopped believing in Kokichi he just thinks he crossed a line but he NEVER EVER hated him. Despite all of Kokichi's efforts Makoto has never hated him and I would like to know if he breaks down (from relief or grief that he doesn't think he deserves that kindness surprise me) or if it's just a small but meaningful consolation while he dies (because Makoto would never just LET Kokichi die no matter how much he did) that someone cared. It makes me go FERAL.

Please.

Absolutely! I'm right there with you, lol.

Okay, I can imagine it going down a few ways.

First of all, I can imagine Makoto starts asking too many questions when Kokichi says he's the mastermind, to the point that Kokichi realizes Makoto will undermine his "big reveal" if left unchecked, so he goes ahead and grabs him when he grabs Kaito, to make sure the group's reasons for questioning him are pulled out of play.

Alternatively, I can imagine that the whole "everything Kokichi does to mess with someone else ends up affecting Makoto by accident" thing that gets repeatedly set up earlier in the AU comes into play again here, in that Kokichi truly meant to only grab Kaito, but the Exisal accidentally grabbed Makoto, too, and rather than look like he made a mistake and isn't fully in control of these things, he plays it off like he meant to do that and takes Makoto with him.

Either way, Kaito is locked in the bathroom by himself and I imagine Makoto being kept elsewhere. If I'm being self-indulgent (which I am 😁) Makoto is kept in the big main area with Kokichi, to facilitate all that conversation and hurt/comfort.

(The bathroom has a window, and it's fine for Kaito to talk to people outside, since Kaito is buying into the idea of Kokichi as the enemy, but Makoto can't be allowed to talk to anyone and spread his belief that Kokichi is lying.)

And at that point, it becomes such an "I'm not trapped in here with you; you're trapped in here with me!" situation. Sorry, Kokichi; you can't run from him now. He's here, he believes in who you demonstrated yourself to be in your best moments, and he wants to have a genuine conversation with you. Makoto is using all the information he's gathered over the course of the killing game to contradict Kokichi being the mastermind, and Kokichi is doing his best to demoralize him as a last ditch effort to not have to deal with him. Maybe invoking Gonta as a kind of, "Do you want to be the next fool who believes in me until it's too late?" But Makoto's resolve doesn't shake.

Kokichi's smug mask falls and it devolves into a shouting match where Kokichi is pulling out every low blow he can and insisting that he's an evil supreme leader (Panic Talk Action, anyone?) and in the end Makoto just says, "No...that's wrong." And the last facade shatters.

I want Kokichi crying into Makoto's shoulder, wailing, "I really liked Gonta! And I really liked Miu!"

And then, because he can't help himself, once he's done crying, he sits up with a brittle smile, like, "Wow, did you really fall for that again?" (It's so ineffective, because he literally just went through the full process of sobbing to shuddering to sniffling to just breathing, and it was very gradual and peaceful, and then he just sits up like "lol jk".)

And Makoto replies, "Yeah. I did."

"Stupidhead. Obviously I was lying. You're so naive, it's a wonder you've made it this long. Maybe I'll put you out of your misery."

OR, if I'm being suuuuper self-indulgent, maybe Makoto actually gets hurt in the accidental Exisal grab and Kokichi can't do any of the posturing because as soon as they're locked in the hangar and the Exisal lets them go, they realize that Makoto is bleeding profusely and he and Kaito have to rush to give him emergency first aid. They're bickering the whole time.

Kaito's blaming Kokichi and Kokichi is blaming Makoto, like, "Why didn't you tell me you were bleeding, idiot?!"

Kaito's like, "Why would he?! You said you never cared about any of us!"

And yet Kokichi is so serious about making sure Makoto's okay, it occurs to Kaito that maybe that was a lie, too.

[enchantestuff]

awards - daniel ricciardo

based off of my beautiful dream anon from a few weeks ago

or in which Daniel gets handsy at an award show, things leading to another and suddenly you're on your knees in the bathroom

NOT MY GIF

warnings: oral (male receiving), language, semi public sexual activities, Daniel Ricciardo being a teasing shit 

1.4k words 

You could feel your heart thumping in your ears. No matter how long you were in the music industry you would never get used to attending award shows filled with people you used to idolize when you were younger.

You had been singing since you were little and had recently been titled with the “music industries newest sweetheart” a title that your boyfriend found insanely comedic. When he first read that infamous article with the bizarre title he had chuckled to himself. “Sweetheart?” he had scoffed, knowing deep down that you were the furthest thing from innocent. Knowing the real you was almost like a dirty little secret he harboured. He had full access to the mischevious Y/N and he wasn't willing to share it with the world. He had no problem letting everyone else think you were an innocent princess as long as he was the only one to know otherwise.

But ever since seeing you in that gorgeous dress a few hours ago, he wanted so desperately to bring that other side of you out, even if you were in public.

It was insanely difficult to keep his hands to himself for a few minutes let alone the entire night. So when an infamous singer greeted the audience and began his speech, Daniel finally allowed himself the pleasure of touching you.

He sneakily placed his hand on your exposed thigh, his “lets fuck” ring on full display, indicating to you what his true intentions were behind his seemingly innocent touch. Paying no mind to his actions, you focused on the man on the stage. Unfortunately you had no sense of self control and became to feel more and more confined in your own body.

Daniels hand shifted closer to your core, briefly brushing his fingers against your throbbing clit before sliding his hand back down your thigh. He stayed situated there for a moment before repeating his actions again. Getting all too close to your core before sliding back down towards your knee. “Dan please,” you whispered in his ear, careful not to draw any attention to the two of you.

He halted his hand mid thigh, teasing you was one of his favourite things to do and hearing you beg for him released millions of endorphins into his body. “Please what darling?” he asked, his hot breath fanning across your neck.

“Either fuck me right now or just stop teasing completely”

Daniel quietly chuckled to himself, grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you away from the table and towards the toilets on the side of the large hall. It was a fancy event and as a result the toilets were spacious with only one occupant available at each time.

“So needy, darling,” he commented, grinning at the pout that formed on your face, “I thought I was the only eager one here...perhaps not.”

You laughed at his words, brushing your hand across the very prominent bulge in his trousers. “Oh you are the eager one here, darling” you mocked. You heard his breath hitch in his throat and only then did you realise how long he had been wanting you.

This night was al about you, that was clear from the get go. Daniel had been pushed to the side all evening and to give him the credit he deserved, he hadn’t complained once. He loved seeing you in the spotlight. He was always proud of you and what you had achieved, stepping away to grant you the attention you deserved was something he was happy to do.

It was a quality you loved about him and you wanted to show him your gratefulness for his selfless ways. You quickly pecked Daniels lips, chuckling quietly when he tried to deepen it. “You call that a kiss?” he sarcastically asked and you knew he was annoyed with your lack of affection.

“Patience, Daniel,” you warned, brushing your fingers up and down his bulge once more. You lived for the noises he made when he was flustered and grinned proudly at the beautiful moan that tumbled from his lips.

Daniel gripped your wrist with force, he hadn’t waited all night just for you to tease him in the bathroom. “You are such a tease, love.”

You pulled away from him, a stunned look planted on your face. “I'm the tease?” you shot back, “Do you not remember having your hands all over me a few minutes ago?”

Daniel threw a sheepish look in your direction, his arms quickly found your waist, pulling you closer and closer into him. “I cant help it when you look that good daring”

You felt your core dampen at his words, all you wanted was for him to fuck you like his life depended on it but you knew you didn't hve enough time. You were going to be announced for an award in a few minutes and needed to be quick.

You quickly dropped down onto your knees causing Daniel's eyes to widen but he did nothing to protest your actions. A sigh of relief filled the room as you unbuttoned his suit trousers and pulled them down his thighs, his boxers following soon after. You licked your lips at the sight of his painfully hard member and appeared kisses up and down his cock before even daring to touch him.

“Darling, you know I hate to beg-” The feeling of your lips wrapping around his tip caused his lips to slam shut, pleasure quickly filling his body as whimpers echoed through the room, feeling you to take him further and further down your throat. Daniel admired you as he leaned against the door, he carefully collected your hair into a makeshift pony, being extra cautious not to ruin your already beautiful hairstyle.

A choked moan left him at the sight of you kneeling down all pretty in front of him, your thigh pressed together - your hand caught in the middle of them rubbing your clit as you bobbed your head up and down.

“Darling, you have no idea how beautiful you look right now,” he praised, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek, demonstrating his appreciation for you. You could hear the crowd applauding from outside the toilet, the sound causing you to hurry your movements.

Your award was going to be announced. Soon.

You lifted your eyes to look Daniel in his own, knowing the innocent look plastered on your face drove him absolutely feral. The moan he immediately let out both proved your point and caused you to roll your eyes back in satisfaction. “Shit darling you can't look at me like that,” he panted, grabbing onto the nearby counter with one of his hands, needing to stabilize himself as he got nearer and nearer to his release.

“This next award is dedicated to Y/N,”

You felt your heart race at the announcement, you knew you needed to speed up your movements and greedily pushed even more of him into your mouth, caressing the rest with your hands.

Daniel chuckled from in front of you, he pulled tightly on your hair, forcing you to watch him as he spoke. “You look so pretty sucking me off darling, I wish this could last even longer,” he praised as he twisted your hair in his hand, “too bad we have all these people outside waiting for you, if only they knew how good you looked gagging on my cock.”

“They all think you're a little angel but look at you now, darling, not so innocent after all hmm?” he teased, you barely even nodded at him but the motion still caused him to curse in pleasure. “Everyone would be shocked if they knew what you were doing sweetheart, if they knew what kind of good girl you really are” his words faded into a groan while his head banged against the door. You quickly swallowed the salty mixture that he released into your mouth, holding tightly onto his thigh in attempt to stop yourself from falling over.

Moans echoed across the room, a sound so heavenly you almost felt like you were dreaming. “Shit” he quietly let out, pulling out of you with a hiss and tucking himself back into his boxers. You remained seated on your knees, only standing up when Daniel placed his finger under your chin and forced you upwards.

“Such a good girl for me darling, I've never been so proud of you and I'm going to show you just how proud I really am when we get home tonight.”

[queridopascal]

mirror sex

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Warning: 18+,explicit content, SMUT, oral (f receiving), mirror sex (duh), praise kink, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, mention of self-doubt and insecurities related to body image, body worship, fluff

KINKTOBER 2021 MASTERLIST

A/N: is this too much? I don’t know. All I know is that Frankie deserves a little praise and a little body worship ❤️

Frankie always knew how to cheer you up after a stressful day at work.

You had been telling him how understaffed you were in your office and how you and your other colleagues have been staying late to try and finish what you could, even on Saturdays, helping each other with the gigantic workload as best as you could.

“Let me take care of you, baby...” he whispered as he pulled you in his arms.

You nodded silently and he kissed you, long and hard, guiding you until the back of your knees hit the foot of the bed. He gently pushed you down and made you sit, then he kneeled in between your legs and gazed up at you with expectant brown eyes, soft and sweet.

“May I, beautiful?” he asked you as his hands grazed your legs ever so slightly, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Yes, Frankie. Please.”

His hands slid under your skirt and yanked your panties down with a sudden swift movement, a stark contrast to the gentle Frankie that was staring at you only mere seconds before.

Ducking his head, he leaned in and pressed his face against the heat between your thighs, inhaling your scent and groaning when he felt your slick on his lower lip.

“God, I wanna die like this,” he sighed as he nuzzled your curls, and you chuckled, grabbing his hat by the bill and turning it backwards, granting him easier access to where you needed him most.

The moment his tongue made contact with your folds, your mouth opened to let out a soft moan, and Frankie gazed up at you, smiling against your skin when he saw you bit down into your lower lip.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror positioned right in front of you, but you couldn’t watch your face, it felt too weird and wrong somehow; instead, you focused on Frankie’s back hidden under his grey t-shirt, how his muscles moved when he slightly turned his head and how his shoulder blades opened as he positioned his hands under your knees to spread you even wider for him.

The thought of seeing yourself in the mirror as Frankie took you from behind had now taken over your mind; just the idea of looking into his eyes through the mirror as he fucked you senseless was making your insides throb.

“Frankie, baby,” you whimpered as you removed his cap and tugged at his hair, making him look at you. “I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me. Please, baby.”

He nodded and got up, helping you to your feet; you both got rid of your clothes, touching and grazing every inch of skin as it was revealed.

“How do you want it, baby?” he asked you as he pressed his lips to your neck, lavishing it with open mouthed kisses and subtle scrapes of his teeth.

“I want to watch you as you fuck me, Frankie.” you demanded as you cupped his nape and tilted your head further to the side, allowing him to lick and suck on your skin.

He pulled away from your neck and his eyes were dark, their usual warm brown now replaced by something primal, almost animalistic, feral.

“Get on the bed.” he growled his command, “Hands and knees for me, pretty.”

You complied and stared at him through the mirror as he positioned himself behind you: he looked ethereal, with those messy curls and that hungry gaze that made your knees weak; his hands came to rest on your shoulders, massaging them for a moment, before descending to your sides and hips. He kissed the back of your neck, then down your spine, and you moaned at the gentle tickle provided by his scruffy beard.

He let go of your right hip and nudged his cock at your entrance, pushing it in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his girth.

His mouth opened with a whispered groan when your wet warmth wrapped tightly around him, and your gazes locked through the mirror once you looked up.

You both remained still and silent for a long moment, eyes glued to the reflection in the mirror, an image that you surely would never be able to get out of your head.

“Frankie...” you whimpered when he started moving, “you look so beautiful like this.”

He groaned at your praise and his hips snapped against your ass. “Shit, baby... keep—fuck—keep talking...”

“You... oh fuck, Frankie... you feel fucking amazing, baby boy.” you chocked out a moan and pushed back against him, earning a low chuckle of approval.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you were hypnotized by the way he bared his teeth and how he threw his head back every few thrusts; his jaw clenched, the tendons of his neck bulged as he hissed, sweaty, rebellious curls fell onto his forehead, and he raked them back with one of his hands, all the while looking at himself in the mirror with a crooked grin.

“Fuck,” you whimpered after a particularly intense thrust, “you look so sexy, Frankie. I’m so turned on by you right now.”

“Fucking hell...” he hissed again as he pushed himself deeper, his pace faster and bruising. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. Ah, shit! I’m so fucking close baby, so close...”

“I—I’m close, too.” you cried out. “Cum inside me, Frankie. Be a good boy and come inside me.”

He grunted and moved one hand to wrap around your neck, pulling you upright and holding you there as he thrust up into you, his other hand resting under your breasts, trying to keep you still for him.

“G—gonna cum,” you stuttered and he immediately eased the grip around your neck; he grunted in your ear, the warmth of his breath making your every nerve buzz with electricity.

After a couple more deep thrusts, you were trembling against his body; your legs threatened to give up for the intensity of the orgasm Frankie had just pulled out of you, but he wrapped his arms around your midsection, steadying you as he groaned against your left cheek, burying himself deeper and deeper into your gushing pussy until you felt that familiar warm rush as he emptied himself inside of you.

Looking into the mirror, you chuckled when you saw the blissful expression on Frankie’s face, a perfect example of satisfaction and happiness. He was still trying to catch his breath, and you could feel the gentle touch of his tummy against your back as it rose and fell rapidly.

You carefully turned your upper body and kissed his cheek, scratching lovingly at his bearded chin with one hand before slowly pulling away and returning your gaze to the mirror.

“You look wrecked, baby.” you pointed out with a giggle, and he raised his head, making eye contact with you through the reflection.

“Because you are so good to me,” he whispered as he ducked his head to kiss your shoulder. “and because I love you.”

“I love you too, Frankie.” you smiled. “And I loved seeing the faces you made while fucking me from behind, they’re different than the ones you do when we fuck in other positions.”

“Really?” he straightened and stared at you, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Mmh,” you nodded. “you looked so hot and focused, it was breathtaking.”

Frankie flushed red at your words and hid his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling your skin and sighing heavily.

“Oh come on, Frankie!” you huffed, amused. “Don’t get all shy on me now!”

“I’m... not sure what you see in me. My body is just... I am so out of shape, baby.” he murmured in a tiny voice, and you pouted, disentangling yourself from his body and jumping off the bed.

You stood with your back to the mirror and extended your hand to him; he looked at you with hesitation for a few seconds before taking your hand and climbing off the bed, standing right in front of you.

“Look in the mirror, Frankie.” you whispered as you moved to stand beside him. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

“Baby, please. I—”

You silenced him with a quick kiss, then moved your hands up and carded your fingers through his hair, twirling the sweaty locks around your index finger. “I love your brown waves. And I love those silver highlights, they make you even sexier.”

Your fingers descended to his cheeks and cupped them. “I love this mustache and this cute bald spot.” you said as you gently pressed your lips where the hairs refused to grow. He smiled.

“I love this perfect tummy,” you caressed it. “firm and soft at the same time.” you said as you got down on your knees and kissed just below his navel.

He sighed as he looked down at you, shuddering when your nails scraped along his hips.

“And I love these thighs,” you kissed them both. “thick and muscular. So strong.”

“Baby...” he whimpered when you moved closer to his now semi-hard cock, a consequence of your praises.

“I love you and I love your body, Frankie. Let me show you.”

KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @theorganasolo @pazizz @beskarboobs @lovesbiggerthanpride @randomness501 @din-jarhead @pedritoispunk @thewineandthewomen @phoenixhalliwell @thisisthewayyy @danniburgh @softboidjarin @0callme-mimi @prideandpascal @destiny-tsukino @randeerenae @candywh0r3 @janebby @fastandfeminist @spanishmossmagnolia @dopeqff @amneris21 @mandosmistress @dihra-vesa @jaime1110 @agos-505 @prettylilhalforc @stardust-galaxies @c4psicle @lavenderluna10 @i-m-sherlocked-twice @goldielocks2004 @evyiione @xgoldenjenny @fanficmybeloved @omlwhatamidoinghere @beskarprincessjenny

[actuallysaiyan]

hi i wanted to request Madara NSFW alphabet if it has already been requested then it’s okay remember take your time!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Madara can be a little cold sometimes with aftercare. This is if you are just a one-night stand and he’s not exactly attached to you. If you’re in a long term relationship with him, he might actually be a little more sweet with you. He enjoys showers after sex and long cuddle sessions to remind him that he is deserving of lots of love.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Madara loves all of himself. He’s strong and one of the best fighters out there. He really isn’t picky and honestly, he just thinks very highly of himself. Sure, his Sharingan is amazing, but it’s not the best thing about him. He just is the best all together.

Madara actually is a huge sucker for a killer smile. He loves the way you turn towards him and just smile at him. He’ll melt a little because it reminds him that there are still happy people in this world. He’s big on tits as well, as they are always so cushiony and warm and they make good pillows for a grumpy Uchiha.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Once again, we are dealing with an Uchiha. They have a huge breeding kink, and Madara might have been the one Uchiha with the biggest breeding kink. He loves the way it feels when he pumps you full of cum and you’re just begging him to fill you up. It’s so sexy to him.

For you, he’s big on overstimulating. He’ll be pretty mean about it too and he won’t stop until you’re crying and begging for him to stop. He loves the way you beg and plead through your tears as you cum over and over again. He loves having that power over you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Madara loves the idea of a threesome with Hashirama, but he also has another dirty secret. He wants to fuck you in front of some of his clansmen. It would turn him on like nothing else would. He wants to show them how he can make you cum so easily and how much of a desperate cockslut you are for him. This is only a fantasy though, and he doesn’t actually act on it unless you’d be absolutely willing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He wasn’t very experienced, but he never let on that he wasn’t. Madara is quite naturally skilled at making you feel good, and he just learned how to please you specifically as time went on. He knew exactly where to touch you at first, but then he learned how to make you cum quickly as he continued to fuck you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s into positions where he can fuck you while dominating you. Doggy style, face down with you ass up. He loves that so much because he can push your head into the pillow while pounding himself into your tight little cunt. If you start to cry out and mewl for him, he’s going to spank you hard and call you a desperate cumslut.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Madara isn’t someone who is always funny, but he can make some jokes here and there, especially of the sexual nature. If he’s in a good mood, he might be a little degrading and joke around with you while he’s fucking you, but most of the time he’s pretty serious. Sex is a serious matter to him, so he loves to enjoy that part of it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is well groomed, but sometimes it can get a little wild down there. He likes to keep it as clean as possible, but it’s not always something he thinks about. He has a nice little trail of hair running down from his lower stomach, which is a little treasure trail for you to discover. It’s black and coarse.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Madara can be a little too serious sometimes, so you might need to make the romantic aspects of his personality come out. He needs to feel attached to you so that he can actually love you so much and just praise you. He can be quite degrading sometimes though, as he loves to have control and dominate you. He’s usually a good mix between praising and degrading, which can be so sexually tense for you. It makes for good sex though.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s got pretty decent self-control, but sometimes it slips and he needs to take care of himself. If you aren’t there with him, and he’s feeling needy and wanton one night while he’s in bed, he’ll let his mind wander and he’ll have to pump his cock into his hand until he’s biting back moans of your name.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Of course, breeding is the biggest one. Madara is also into bondage, spanking, breath play, exhibition, domination, and he’s quite a sadist. He loves overstimulating you while he spanks your pretty little pussy every time you cum hard on his cock. Madara can be mean with his kinks, but he’s also quite loving when he wants to be. He’s a bit all over the place with his kinks, but rest assured you will cum.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He knows he can’t always fuck you on his bed in private, but that is his preferred place to fuck you. If he can’t have you there, he’ll take you almost anywhere. He doesn’t care if anyone is watching, in fact, that might spur him on even more so. He loves the idea of someone watching the two of you and enjoying how sexy that scene can be.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Madara is a little repressed with sex, so you can almost do anything cheeky or naughty and he is rock hard. He’s a feral man with a voracious sexual appetite, so if you wear something a little revealing or you rub his thigh and nibble on his earlobe, he’s going to want to fuck you right then. Don’t do anything that would turn him on if you don’t want to fuck, because there’s no going back with him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

The man is a sadist, but he doesn’t want to hurt you for real. He hates the idea of you being in real pain without enjoying yourself and you’re in tears because he’s hurt you past what you usually enjoy. He just hates that, and he’s not going to hurt you to that extent.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Madara loves using oral as a control thing. If you get on your knees and want to blow him, he’ll probably fuck your mouth and make you choke and gag on his cock. He loves the look on your face when he’s balls deep in your mouth and making you cry. He gets very weak at watching you deepthroat him.

He also loves using oral sex on you to make you overstimulated. He’s huge on watching you plead and beg for him, and the way you make those pathetic little noises. It’s just so damn sexy and makes his cock so hard. He loves grabbing onto your hips and holding you down while he laps at your juices.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s a good mix between fast and sensual, but he can be quite rough sometimes too. He needs to chase his high, but he wants to make you cum as much as possible. Some nights, he’ll pound you with your face in the pillow and your ass in the air, but other nights he’ll hold you close and kiss you while he slowly drags his cock against your walls, fucking you deeply and slowly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Madara usually enjoys them well enough, but he does prefer more of a drawn out session. Foreplay is a big thing for him as it allows him to overstimulate you like crazy, but if he only has a few minutes to fuck you, he’ll take it and make you cum as many times he can in that time limit.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s all about taking risks. He wants to experiment with you as much as possible and he’s big on teasing you. Madara loves trying out new positions with you and he’ll contort your body in ways you didn’t think you could bend. He’ll have you cumming in the most desperate and depraved ways. Sex will be so much different than you expected.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Madara has a great amount of stamina, but his refractory period is fairly normal. He needs a little rest between rounds, but he’ll just overstimulate you while he allows himself to grow hard again. He loves fucking you for hours, and just witnessing to see how long you can keep up with him.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’ll have many toys. He loves whips, handcuffs, ropes and restraints. He’ll use anything at his disposal to fuck you and make you cum, but he also doesn’t mind if you want to use toys on him too. He usually wants to be the one in charge, but sometimes he likes it if you challenge him and dominate him. That’s when you should tie him up and ride him until he cums and just keep riding him over and over again.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is so unfair. He loves overstimulating you and teasing you about how much of a cumslut you are. He’ll call you all kinds of degrading names and he also will edge you like crazy as well. Madara just loves how pathetic you look and sound when he’s got you in the palm of his hand.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s quite loud. He loves crying out and calling you names while he fucks you, and he gets very loud if you deepthroat him. He’ll usually grunt and groan, but he’s not embarrassed about moaning loudly while he pounds himself into you as well.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Madara would love to collar you if he gets the chance. He wants to own you to the fullest extent, but he does want you to be okay with that as well. Especially if you’re in a long term relationship and Madara is very attached to you. He’ll do anything to make you happy, but he also loves the idea of having you collared and leading you with a leash.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s nice and buff, but he’s still on the leaner side of things as well. He does have some nice broad shoulders though. His cock is very, very thick. The girth of it always stretches you out no matter how used to it you are. It’s a good 7 and a half inches as well.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high, but he doesn’t let it interfere with important matters as well. He wants a healthy sex life with you, but he doesn’t want it to be the only thing in his life that he does. He wants to have sex to enjoy it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a long time. Madara overthinks sometimes, so having you in his arms and holding onto you as you sleep peacefully, it just makes him feel so good and he wants to relish in these moments as much as he can.

[daevastanner]

Elucien: 20 lashes pt II

link to part 1 here

He should let her walk away from him.

He should remain in the corridor.

But her words keep replaying in his mind as she strides down the steps and out the front doors.

“You deserve better,” she had said.

And Lucien realizes… who was the last person to ever consider what he deserved?

For the life of him, Lucien can’t recall the last person, the last instance, where someone took his side.

Where someone stood up for him.

But Elain…

His reluctant mate.

She’d taken his side.

Lucien’s legs are suddenly restless, and he starts down the stairs and towards those double doors.

Out on the front lawn he sees Elain making a bee-line for the stone bench, that sits beneath a dogwood tree.

He nearly chuckles when she plunks herself down unceremoniously.

But then she’s frowning, cradling her hand in her lap. She is in pain.

Lucien hastens his stride to join her. That right hook she had thrown was piss poor. Her fist had been balled up tight, thumb tucked in. She probably jammed her fingers.

And the second punch to Tamlin’s shoulder certainly hadn’t done her any favors.

Lucien cautiously closes the distance between them with extreme caution.

It feels like he’s approaching an easily startled deer.

He wants her to know that he holds her to no promises. He is not taking her display of defiance on his behalf as consent. Lucien only means to help.

He expects nothing in return.

Lucien gestures to the empty space beside her. “May I?”

Elain doesn’t look up from her already bruising knuckles, but nods.

Lucien fluidly sits beside her, taking a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I can fix that. Your hand.”

She stills and Lucien curses himself.

He is searching his mind for an excuse to leave when Elain slowly offers him her hand.

It sits there for a moment, hovering in mid air. All Lucien can do is stare at it.

But the soft voice of the mating bond returns to him for the first time in a very long time, and urges Lucien to act.

Willing himself not to tremble, Lucien gently takes Elain’s hand.

It is warm and soft. It reminds him of her eyes.

He holds her fingers in both his hands, lips twisting as he runs a thumb across her knuckles.

“Is it… bad?” Elain asks. “It does hurt. But it doesn’t feel like I broke anything.”

“Can you try and move your little finger for me?”

Elain swallows then hisses as her pinky gives the smallest of movements.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “It’s a fairly common injury. Usually seen in drunken brawls.”

“I confess myself inexperienced with such injuries.”

Lucien chuckles at her quiet humor.

Her cheeks pink, Elain presses, “I’m assuming it’s not so grave an injury.”

Lucien meets her eyes and dares the hint of a smirk. “You may never garden again.”

To his surprise and delight, Elain laughs. A true laugh. She tosses her head back and the setting sun casts her hair a burnished gold.

Still, he doesn’t allow himself to hope that this amicability, this easy conversation, will ever evolve beyond this day. Beyond this moment.

He clears his throat as her laughter winds down. “This may tingle a bit,” he cautions.

Elain bobs her head, and Lucien holds her hand just a little tighter, focusing on healing those fractures.

“I didn’t know you had healing magic,” Elain says, a current of discomfort lacing her tone.

“Only the barest amount. No more than your standard fae.” He looks up from her slowly mending hand, meeting her gaze yet again. “You likely have some yourself.”

She hums in approval and the wrinkle between her brows smooths as Lucien finishes healing her hand.

He is reluctant to release it.

When will he touch her again?

When will they be this close again?

No.

He cannot allow himself to hope for that. He cannot allow himself to even consider the possibility.

With no small amount of effort, Lucien releases his hold on her hand.

His chest pinches when she doesn’t immediately withdraw.

Instead she lifts her hand from his palm and holds it to the sunlight, examining it curiously.

“Can you move your fingers?” Lucien asks (even though he knows the answer).

She wiggles her delicate fingers, and something primal in Lucien is pleased.

He has cared for his mate. He has made her feel better. He has healed her.

“I don’t regret it,” Elain says, still admiring her hand. “Hitting him.”

Lucien’s mouth is dry. He doesn’t know how to respond.

She drops her hand then folds both of them in her lap. Her brown eyes focus on the ground as though she’s seeking out an answer in the emerald blades of grass.

“I was just… so angry.” Elain sighs. “I’ve never been so angry in my life.”

He had seen it. He had seen the anger break out on her face. Had practically smelled it on her before she turned and marched into the manor.

And he recognized it. He recognized that feral animosity.

Elain had learned that someone had harmed her mate, and had felt that primal urge to defend him.

“It was like I was burning. It felt like my blood was… charged.”

Lucien nods and considers his next words carefully. “I am familiar with the feeling.”

Elain’s eyes snap to him, and he can’t tell if she’s curious or crestfallen. “It’s… it’s part of… what we share then.”

He nods again.

She sits a little taller, steeling herself. “It’s a part of the mating bond.”

Lucien fights to keep his jaw from dropping. For some reason it’s… staggering to hear her say those words. To hear her mention the mating bond and call it by its name.

“I thought I’d gone mad,” she murmurs. “It felt like I’d lost all control.”

Self-admonishment and guilt flicker in her eyes and Lucien feels a pang of sympathy…

…and again that primal urge to fix this, comfort her.

“No, you aren’t mad.” He didn’t dare hold her stare when he spoke the next words. “It’s white hot when it starts. Your blood roaring in your ears. Your heart thundering against your chest. It blinds you. You feel a need, a compulsion, to act.” Lucien folded his arms and leaned back against the tree, trying to appear casual though he felt anything but. “It takes root and you feel entitled to the rage, because… because the person who… who, erm…”

He doesn’t know how to say it without alarming her.

So she says it for him: “The person who you are bonded to?”

But she says it not as a suggestion.

She says it as a mercy.

To let him know that she is not afraid of him. Not afraid of the bond. He had, in keeping his distance, gained this much ground in her trust.

He continues, “Yes, you feel entitled to rage for that person, and that call to protect… it has to be answered. You think the only way it will fade is… is if you take action.”

“And it did,” she says. “It went away after I hit him…”

There’s an awkward pause and Lucien takes no time in filling it.

“And don’t forgetting spitting at him…”

A soft, wry laugh.

Silence that Lucien is again happy to fill.

“…and then hitting him again.”

Her laugh is a little brighter this time, and when she again meets his gaze her expression is… grateful.

He clears his throat, not wanting to allow himself the chance to savor this moment. To savor the way she looks at him without apprehension.

He doesn’t want her to run.

But he also wants her to know that she is free to.

It pains him to say it, but he forces himself to: “The bond causes many urges, but they are… more easily ignored than some may believe.”

It’s a lie.

But something like disappointment flashes across her face…

It’s just as quickly gone as it had arrived. “I see.”

Lucien feels something between them then. A sort of static thread anchored at the center of his chest. The place where he had felt that warmth spark all those years ago when she’d tumbled out of that cauldron and he had realized she was his mate.

And he suddenly notices that her dainty fingers are resting over her breastbone. Right where she might feel a similar sensation to the one he is experiencing.

This remarkable thread he’d never noticed till this day.

Lucien’s heart wrenches. Oily regret seepes through his veins at what can never be.

He debates telling her now. Telling her what he has planned to give her for Solstice this year.

The opportunity to break their bond.

Gods dammit he had just accepted that their bond was a sham.

He had just resigned himself to being without a mate.

He’d been training his mind for months not to go mad at the loss of her.

And then she had shown up today.

Looking like an angel.

Smiling at him.

Laughing at his jokes.

Wearing his earrings.

Defending him.

Letting him touch her.

Discussing the bond.

Her human heart, he realized, still existed there. It still beat. Fickle and volatile and full.

Did he dare unlock those doors?

Did he dare break the locks he had forged to keep her out?

Did he dare allow himself to dream again?

Did he deserve to?

“I asked you once,” Elain begins, her voice as fragile as a rose petal, “if you could hear my heart. You said you could not.”

Lucien nodded.

“Is the answer the same now?” she asks.

And he can tell that for whatever reason… Elain is hopeful his answer will be different.

But he cannot lie to her. He cannot lie to his mate.

“I cannot.”

The only sound is the breeze rustling the leaves, and Lucien’s blood pounding in his ears.

He remembers her response from before as though it was the rhythm of his own heart:

“No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.”

Her expression then, so forlorn, so hopeless…

She did not wear it now.

Instead, Elain nods, and she seems almost resolute. As though she’s come to a decision.

He doesn’t dare consider what that decision may be. He doesn’t dare to hope.

And even still, as their eyes meet, he can almost hear what she’s thinking. Or at least he thinks so…

But you see me all the same, don’t you?

And he knows she can’t hear him, but he answers her silently: Yes, I do.

The easy silence continues and Lucien, for once, has no words.

“This Court is far too pretty for Tamlin,” she scowls.

And Lucien laughs, full bodied, at such a menacing expression on such a lovely face.

“You should tell him that.”

Elain balks. “I think I should ration my abuses towards him wisely. I’ve already punched him twice on this visit.”

“And spit at him,” Lucien adds wisely.

She laughs and Lucien is reminded of fox-glove flowers.

He is reminded of light and happiness.

The mating bond is the farthest thing from his mind.

Only Elain and her laughter remain.

Elain, her laughter, and the promise of maybe purchasing a new set of sheers for this year’s solstice gift instead.

[piratesfromspace]

Training Day

Frank Castle (the Punisher) x Reader

Word count: 2k TW: knifeplay, mention of death and violence, gun, sexual tension, mention of alcohol

Female pronouns for reader

Note: Please keep in mind that in real life knifeplay should ALWAYS be discussed with your partner before anything, and that you should play with the safety of your partner being a priority. Stay safe.

“Again”

You scramble up on your feet, with a little bit less enthusiasm than at the beginning of your lesson. It was at least the 6th time you had fallen hard on the ground. You’re starting to seriously question what seemed like a very good idea at first. Who would pass the opportunity to be trained by such a competent fighter? By the Punisher himself? Definitely not you. 

You, the little rich girl forced into the streets and into hiding after your estranged father - a shady politician - messed with the wrong mafia boss. Your privileged life had fallen apart in a matter of seconds a year ago, half your family killed in the process, and since then you had learned that any valuable lesson usually came the (very) hard way. So when the vigilante had run into you while investigating said mafia, alone and in dire need of some help, he had wordlessly offered his protection and you had gladly accepted. Despite his brutality in a fight and his very unique moral code, you understood very quickly it wasn’t really the first time he chose to protect a runaway.

And here you are, on the floor of his small modest apartment, trying to apply the self defense techniques he taught you. You’re not the best student and it’s beginning to be a little bit annoying, the feeling of failure gnawing at the edge of your already pretty low self-confidence.

“Come on, try to catch this gun, I know you can do it.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, you shake your head a little, and without any warning you throw yourself toward him with all the strength you’ve got left. He dodges your attack with a surprising speed considering his massive frame, grabs your shoulder and throws you forward. You fall on the floor - again - and before you can get up, he’s on you, both knees on either side of your lean figure, his hips straddling yours. Gun pointed at you. You try to squirm to the side despite his legs caging you and you literally punch into his hand holding the gun. There’s a grunt of surprised pain, and the gun clatters to the floor. A small victory. Although it is kind of a cheat, knowing very well the nasty bruises and cuts already covering his right hand (he earned them in a fight against some tenacious gangsters a couple days ago) gave you an unfair advantage. But you’re not done yet.

Your secret weapon - a small pocket knife - has been hidden in your jacket sleeve, and you finally have the opportunity to take it out. With a grin you press the blade over his jeans against the inside of his thigh, where the artery would be. At the same time there is a metallic sheen in your visual field, and you unexpectedly feel the cold of steel against your throat. Of course, Frank fucking Castle has a knife of his own. And you were too caught in what you thought was the idea of the century to be wary of him striking back.

The blade of his combat knife is resting on your neck, barely touching your skin, but raising goosebumps anyway. He holds the weapon with a steady hand, careful not to hurt you.

“Not fast enough.”

his voice is always so impossibly deep, the tone confident. No trace of effort in it, while you’re trying to catch your breath under him.

“But I like the spirit. Keep it up, little one.”

You expect the exercise to be done, but he doesn’t budge, still straddling your hips, keeping you pinned to the floor. His blade flush against your throat. To anyone else, it would be a deadly threat, but not to you. You find it almost comforting to surrender like this, even though you know it’s not him who has the upper hand in the entirely different kind of game you’re both entangled since you met.

His body so close to yours, the adrenaline of the training, the thrill of the sharp edge of steel against your skin: it’s too much and not enough at the same time. You’re still trying to calm your breath, but now it’s for another reason than earlier. There is a moment of hesitation, you can feel it in the way his jaw clenches while his eyes look for yours. But whatever Castle has in mind, you don’t want him to stop. You bit your lips, raising your chin higher, baring your neck even more, just like animals do when they submit to a stronger one. The primitive display of submission awakens something feral in him.

He grabs slowly your wrist, the one threatening his thigh with the blunt pocket knife, and squeezes, just hard enough to make you let go of your weapon. It falls in a muffled thud on the carpet next to you as Castle lifts your arm above your head until he’s able to pin your wrist against the floor. He’s closer to you now, leaning over you, and you suddenly feel so small under him. He’s taking all your space, filling all your senses with what makes him him .

The heady scent of after-shave and smoke and a faint tangy smell that’s probably gunpowder.

The roughness of his denim and the delicious pressure of his fingers around your wrist.

The way he’s the only thing in the room you’re able to focus on, authority and confidence radiating from him.

The scars adorning his body - they are everywhere, some you can’t see, but others pretty obvious, and your eyes are going from one scar on his face to another, before landing on his lips.

When you meet his gaze, he’s already intently looking at you, and you can feel the dilemma playing in his mind. You’ve known him only for a couple months, but it feels like it’s been your entire life.

Frank Castle is not a very complicated man. He’s been hurt and betrayed in ways you unfortunately can relate to. He’s not a good man, he has killed and tortured too many to deserve to be called “good” - he’s not even interested in doing good himself. But, buried deep under the violence, the misanthropy and the anger, lies a sliver of hopeful belief, almost naive, that some of humanity can still be good. That somehow some of us can shine some light in the darkness of this world, and that those people need to be protected at all costs. Because they’re too pure to do what’s really necessary to fight off evil, he will do it. He will sacrifice his soul if it means a few can be saved. His conscience will never be clear ever again, so the least he can do is put to work his own wicked mind to support the good ones.

And for some misguided reasons, he thinks you’re one of those.

Compared to the fury he unleashes when he fights, the patience and softness he never fails to show you makes your heart flutter. It’s like he’s afraid he could hurt you more than life already did, no matter how many times you assure him he won’t. You’re pretty sure he would do anything you ask him to - he did kiss you that one time you asked, a few nights ago, both of you drunk on cheap whisky. Plush lips finding yours, callused hands gently holding the side of your face, his breath hot on your skin. The memory is brought back at the front of your mind, heat settling low in your belly.

This time it’s different though, he’s the one initiating whatever this is.

He moves his hips ever so slightly, unwillingly bringing your attention to his crotch and you can see how tight the fabric of his jeans has become. He follows your gaze but before he gets embarrassed, your eyes dart to his and in a bold move you lift your free hand to touch his thigh. Your own way to say this is ok. His lips part, and he shifts a bit again, unconsciously, pressing against your pelvic bone, the feeble friction enough to send a pleasant tingle in your body. You admire his calm and his sense of self-control though, because despite the now very visible desire burning in him, the blade on your throat is steadier than ever. Your hand leaves his thigh and slowly but surely wraps around his fingers on the handle of the knife. The tension is thick, the silence is deafening, the only noises your shallow breaths and the sound of fabric each time Castle is grounding your hips harder with his own.

You guide his hand with your own, removing the blade from your throat and as his pupils go wide, you bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss against the smooth steel. The gesture is both obscene and pious at the same time, like you’re paying respect to some holy relic, worshipping his own ability to take lives, revering the dark God he is.

“Fuck, girl…” he lets out in a growl, voice laced with admiration and with something else, something very unholy .

You’re actually surprised he allowed you to move his own arm, letting you take some control. The realization emboldens you. Maybe this will work . Frank Castle is too busy processing the aching fire that consumes him to anticipate your sudden attack. A mean twist of his wrist brings the knife to his own throat. The surprise makes him let go of your other hand, and you’re able to push him hard in the middle of his chest, your upper body surging up, legs coming out from under him. He tumbles backward, he’s swearing and laughing at the same time, like he’s actually amazed you managed to unsettle him. I can do it. You crawl on the floor as fast as you can, quickly grabbing the previously discarded gun and you turn around, aiming at him. I’ve got you Frank Castle, I won . He chuckles and raises his hands, surrendering to you.

“Not fast enough” you taunt him “but I liked the spirit”. You get up on your feet, and lower your aim. “Maybe I’ll teach you a thing or two.” This time you’re pushing your luck and you know it.

Frank smiles, and he gets up as well. He’s not wearing his Punisher gear, just his civilian clothes, a simple black shirt with sleeves rolled up, the thin fabric taut over his firm chest. Even from across the room, even without the kevlar vest, it’s impossible to forget how tall and broad he is, how the muscles of his forearms flex when he rubs the palm of his hand, how the bulge in his jeans leaves nothing to the imagination. You’re not the only one to stare though. Dark eyes are roaming your body, making your cheeks go red under his searing gaze.

A few seconds ago, you thought your training session was over but now you’re afraid your little stunt has done nothing to make him want to stop. And truth be told, you don’t want it to stop. Don’t want him to stop.

“Never lower your gun.” he breaks the silence, husky voice sending shivers down your spine.

“You still have a lot to learn, little girl.” he adds darkly, a smirk on his handsome face.

“Show me, then.” you reply too quickly for your own sake.

In a heartbeat, he’s on you, prying the gun from your hand, crushing you against the wall. There’s a split second of hesitation before his lips are on yours. His strong body pressed flush against your trembling figure, the tight knot of repressed desire finally snapping. And it feels good, so good you’re pretty sure your legs will give up under you. But it doesn’t matter because he’ll catch you, he’ll get you, of that you’re sure.

You know you’ve lost this round. But defeat has never tasted more like victory than now.

[minniepetals]

Rose & Thorns: 08

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: slight angst / fluff / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 8.9k

— warnings: yoongi becomes feral for a moment, hurt and comfort

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Yoongi, w-we have to go."

He saw you, he found you, he met your eyes.

But you wanted nothing to do with him so you ran away towards the only safe haven that was with you at the moment and when Yoongi woke up to find you running towards him at a fast speed, tears waiting to fall from your eyes, he grew angry.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Sleepiness thrown to the side, he inspected you. The basket you had held onto was gone and now the only thing you were holding onto was the cape wrapped behind your back, clutching it as if your life depended on it. You didn't look physically hurt anywhere but you were shaking with fear.

And someone was going to pay for making you that way.

"It's Jinyoung," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut and allowing the tears to fall but you quickly wiped them away. "I saw him," you said, "he saw me."

Jinyoung.

He couldn't ever forget that name, not when that was the same human that had hurt his precious maknae when they had been out on a night patrol, the same human that captured him and took him away, locking him up in their dungeon.

Jinyoung.

That cursed name.

Jungkook told them about him, at least the short version of it. He liked you.

Liked you.

No one deserved you.

There was something strange about the way Yoongi's silver eyes turning dark and dangerous and it almost scared you a bit.

"Y/N!"

But that fear was nothing compared to how you felt when you heard Jinyoung calling your name and that was what made you jump, quick to hide behind Yoongi's big self who instinctively went on to sheild you.

He growled at Jinyoung the second he came in sight and the man jumped back a bit at the sight, only to smirk in wonder a split second later.

"Well," he began just as the rest of his soldiers walked up from behind, "I see you've found yourself another dragon, Y/N."

Oh no, you gasped and emerged from Yoongi's shadow to glare at Jinyoung. "Don't come any closer, Jinyoung, he isn't someone you can just take."

Yet despite you saying that, Jinyoung only smiled at the sight of you. "Well hello, Y/N, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

When he took a step forward, Yoongi stepped up again to try and conceal you with a deadly gaze that warned him to not get any closer to you if he even dared to. A once peaceful beginning you were living in and yet you were being tested again. Perhaps fate was and would never be on your side so maybe you should not have been surprised.

One moment you were happy, the next you were forced into the submission of fear all over again.

"Y/N," Yoongi turned back to you and the once dark eyes returned to a soft gaze just for you. "Step back," he told you, voice quiet yet tense, his anger barely restrained at Jinyoung's presence and when your eyes gazed into his with worry and fright, he let out a small sigh. "It'll be alright," he vowed softly as he gently nuzzled against your face as if trying to comfort you in easing the pain away.

"No, Y/N," Jinyoung quickly interjected, disgusted at the sight of the dragon being so close to you. "Y/N, come back to me."

Yoongi's head snapped back to the man who dared to say such a thing. The other soldiers had their swords and spears out, ready to strike anytime if Yoongi made one wrong move, yet it didn't faze the mighty dragon one bit.

But Jinyoung ignored the glare directed to him and instead held his hand out for you. "Come back home to the village, don't you miss it?"

You shook your head. "You'll hurt me," you said, "you'll punish me."

"No we won't." You knew he was lying. Everyone knew he was lying. "Everyone misses you."

Yoongi scoffed while you shook your head again, knowing he could never be telling the truth. He wasn't ever that soft to you and had never once cared for you like a man should have. He only wanted to use you, they all did, him and the soldiers, the chiefs and the villagers.

"Why would they miss me, Jinyoung?" You challenged.

"Why?" He laughed aloud as if he couldn't believe he had to explain such a thing. "You tamed a dragon, Y/N, and now you've tamed another. Who knows how many other dragons you've tamed and that's all coming from a little girl who was once a worthless nobody."

A worthless nobody.

When you were about to fall back down into those dark thoughts, it was Yoongi who growled so hard it sounded like a low roar in the back of his throat. His eyes were like the dark side of the moon as he looked Jinyoung dead in the eyes and like a feral animal, Yoongi was ready to pounce.

The soldiers shouted in battle cries but it was nothing compared to the dark and dangerous warrior side to Yoongi whose single swing of his tail was more than enough to have them all flying back and hitting the trees and ground with hard thuds.

But for Jinyoung, he saved his sharpened claws for him. Jinyoung was on edge, prepared to defend and fight back but even as captain of the soldiers, he was nothing compared to a dragon. Sure he had beat one before but that was only because Jungkook wasn't on full guard. So when Jinyoung ran towards Yoongi with a challenge, Yoongi simply scoffed, letting out an angry roar before he swiped his claws straight upon Jinyoung's face and the man's scream echoed loud through the forest.

"Let's go," was all Yoongi had to say as he turned back to you to have you instantly climb onto his back.

His wings flapped a few time, sending Jinyoung one last glare of warning before flying into the sky, towards the clouds that kept him away from the views of the soldiers so that they wouldn't know which direction he was heading towards in the case that any of them wanted to follow the two of you home.

When you returned, the sky had already dimmed, telling you that the patrols were already back and you were sure they were all probably wondering where the two of you had gone especially when you had no basket of herbs with you in hand.

The looks of concern that filled the clan made you feel anxious but at the same time, it felt a little relieving to know they were beginning to care and worry.

You held your cape close to you while hugging yourself as the both of you ignored the questioning stares and Yoongi flew past them all, landing himself on the grounds of the castle where you slid off of him and he returned to his human form.

"What happened?" Namjoon asked as Jungkook ran up to you, his hands on your shoulders, concern displayed in his eyes while you refused to meet his gaze and instead hung your head low.

"Y/N?" He softly called upon your name, head angling down to try and take a look at you. Luckily you weren't actually visibly hurt anywhere so that was something he didn't need to worry about. "What's wrong, little one?" Still, it didn't make him any less concerned.

You let out a small sniffle and their hearts almost shattered at just the sound alone. Jungkook almost froze in spot but when you laid your head against his chest, he took that cue to hold you against him, feeling so protective in that moment, and gave Yoongi the questioning gaze.

The older dragon hesitated for a moment, watching you carefully before letting out a small sigh. "We met Jinyoung and a few other soldiers," he informed them and that alone was enough to anger the rest of them, especially Jungkook.

"Y/N-"

But you cut him off as you stepped back from the youngest prince, wiping away your tears as you shook your head. "I want to be alone," you told him.

"Y/N.." He watched you with a conflicted gaze. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I don't care, I-"

"Hey." Taehyung walked up and grabbed ahold of your hand, eyes trying to search into yours yet you refused to give in.

You couldn't understand your feelings. You felt angry but sad. What Jinyoung said was wrong and you were tired of it all. Tired of being used by those villagers, tired of them not ever seeing your worth even when you've already left them, and tired of the fact that they had the audacity to try and take you back only for the reason of them using you against the dragons.

You didn't want to deal with it anymore. You just wanted to be left alone and have the world stop putting you under so much when you gave it your everything. One moment everything was so close to perfect but now there you were made a fool once again.

You wanted to be loved, to be cherished, to know how it felt to be taken care of by someone who loved you but how were the chances ever going to happen when all your life you've had to prove your worth to everyone?

You were tired.

"I'm tired, Taehyung," you stressed the words, voice shaking as the tears formed against your waterline, quick to fall before you could even try to blink it away. "I'm so tired."

"Hey, don't say that," Taehyung consoled in a gentle voice, "Jinyoung's gone, he isn't here anymore. Everything will be alright."

"You say that yet when has anything ever been alright?" You asked him and it crushed them all to see you that way. You were losing hope in the world. "What if Jinyoung comes back? What if the next time I see him, he sends me back to the village and I have to pay the price for saving Jungkook? They won't it let me go that easily."

"And we won't give you up that easily."

You turned at the sound of Seokjin's voice. "Why not?" You queried.

"You're one of us now, Y/N," he told you, "you belong to the clan."

Maybe a part of you felt good to hear that, the fact that you were accepted into the clan, yet another part of you wanted something more. You didn't know what, you just wanted...more.

"What if I was still thinking of leaving?"

You hadn't ever been so blunt, voice so flat they couldn't tell what you were thinking. The question itself made Jungkook feel something drop in his stomach and the silence that followed made you feel as if you were expecting too much, that the hope you had held onto from the moment you woke up after returning with Namjoon was a hope you should have never had.

You were feelings things.

Feeling things for them. Seven dragon princes well respected in their clan, the ones that had once regarded you as an enemy due to you being a human. What was wrong with you? They already had each other and yet here you were, feeling things that should not have been allowed.

"Even if you are still thinking of leaving," Hoseok began, his voice soft and low as if he was keeping his true emotions hidden, "we still wouldn't let that Jinyoung try and take you away."

"You saved my life." Jungkook took ahold of both your hands with a light squeeze and a tight smile that looked too fake for him to conceal his disappointment because his eyes were filled with tears waiting to fall. "I'm not going to let anyone try and destroy the one pure gift that should have been given the whole world from the moment she was born."

"I don't care about it anymore," you said, two drops of tears falling, "I don't care about having the world, I just...I just want it all to stop."

You sounded pathetic to your own self but to them, they wanted nothing more than to make it all better for you. You may have looked pretty in tears but it was breaking their hearts.

"We'll make it stop," Jungkook vowed.

"Jinyoung, he-"

"He won't be back, we'll make sure of it," Namjoon stated.

"What makes you so sure?"

"I've hurt him once but that was just a warning," Yoongi stepped up from where he stood and you turned around, meeting his protective gaze. "The next time he ever dares to show his pathetic face in front of you, you wouldn't want to know what I'll do."

Your lips pressed together as you sniffled. "Thank you," you told him but he shook his head.

"Between you and us, there are no sorrys and thank yous."

"We'll make it better, Y/N." Jimin grabbed your attention to stand in front of you, holding your face in his large hands as he gently wiped the tears on your face. "We'll make it better," he whispered again.

Your brows furrowed slightly. "How?"

He looked up at his mates, sending them a lopsided smile before returning to you. "Trust me, Y/N," he said, "when it comes to being taken care of, as long as you are in a room with people who cares about you and who wants to make it alright again, you will feel better in no time." When you look at him with a confused gaze, Jimin's heart almost fell because you really had no idea what it meant to be on the receiving end. "Come here." He grabbed your hand and dragged you away with the others following just behind.

Jimin sat you down on one of the large sofas where he grabbed a soft blanket to wrap yourself in. The others settled around with soft smiles of their own.

Jimin sat beside you. "First," he said and went on to brush away the remaining traces of tears on your face. "Next." It puzzled you a little at how the first step had been just that and when Jimin opened his arms for you, you blinked and instinctively found yourself silently asking permission towards the others.

But the other princes were all too familiar with Jimin's steps to comforting and making someone feel better. The second step, however, had only been reserved for them or the little dragons. And now you, someone who became special to them without your knowledge just yet.

They beckoned their heads, nodding, smiling, encouraging you to go on.

You hesitated for a moment, gulping quietly, then moved in and had Jimin hold you.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

"It's okay," he told you, "make yourself comfortable."

It felt strange but the second you laid your head to rest against Jimin's chest, your emotions began to breakthrough as if that was what you needed the most.

To be held, to be told that it was okay, that you wouldn't make him or someone else feel strange or have them back away. You sought for his warmth more than the blanket. His soft scent, strong arms that held you close to him, the comforting rubs that circled your back.

It was enough to make you feel some type of way.

"Jimin?" You called his name and he hummed in reply. "I think I might cry," you confessed, warning him beforehand so that he could take that opportunity to let you go.

Yet Jimin didn't let you go. He only held you tighter.

"Go on," he said. "Cry."

And you did.

Because no one had ever told you that. Back in that village, whenever the people teased you or bullied you and whenever you wanted to cry, they'd laugh some more or just simply tell you that you shouldn't be crying, that crying made you weak and that nobody wanted to deal with your tears.

You've always wanted to fall into someone's arms and have them be the shoulder to cry on yet there was no one. You were always left to yourself and a thin blanket that barely kept you warm through the nights. Your blanket was the only one that held you when you needed someone.

You had no idea how many times you have cried but it was more than you could count. As you grew up, however, the tears eventually became braver and faded away. Sometimes it'd be too much to bear, however, and you'd return to your blanket and cry there.

Silently.

Away from them all.

When you first cried in front of Jungkook, back when he was still imprisoned, when he told you that he liked your voice, you had been relieved for a short moment, only to crawl back in fear and wipe the tears away because you were afraid he'd make fun of you if you cried longer.

He never shoved you away though, and what was what you were thankful for the most. Because Jungkook had been the first to accept you for who you were.

And now that his mates have started to grow fond of you, you could only let the tears fall some more.

"You're beautiful, you know," Jimin said in his soft, gentle, voice. "You're smart and sweet, kinder than anyone in this world, the most selfless person I have ever met. You've given up so much of yourself for others even when they hated you and that is what we regret the most in our life."

"You saved my life when we fell down that cliff. You were exhausted and hurting but still carried me with all that you had, staying up nights just to make sure I was alright."

"The little dragons all love you because you are kind and gentle."

"Your smile alone can make someone's day. It's made my day."

"Not only that but you're always so considerate of others."

"You make sure everyone is alright before your own self which can become slightly concerning too."

"You need to take care of your own self too, Y/N. Your health, both physical and emotional, are very important."

"But we'll take care of it," Jimin said. "In the moment when you are weak and have forgotten to take care of yourself, we'll take care of you in your stead."

He was right. As long as you were in a room with people who cared about you and who wanted to make it alright again, you would feel better in no time.

.

.

"Y/N unnie! Look!"

You gasped at the sight in front of you, almost dropping the trays of food in your hand if it wasn't for a young dragon to come and help you steady it. You let them take care of it to place it on the table.

"Haeun, is that you?" Your smile was so bright and wide when you saw the little dragoness now turned a pretty little girl.

"Yes!" She giggled as she ran to fall into your arms. "I'm pretty aren't I?" She asked when you picked her up.

"So, so pretty," you nodded with enthusiasm and she turned to the others who still had yet to learn how to shift into a human. With a smirk on her face, she boasted "Y/N unnie called me pretty!"

Choruses of complaints and envy were quick to echo into the nest.

"Not fair, Haeun!"

"I wanna be called pretty!"

"I wanna become a human too!"

They were all too cute for your heart to take and you giggled as you let Haeun back down. Just then, a small dragon had tugged onto the hem of your dress. "What is it, little one?"

"Where's prince Taehyung?" The little dragoness asked.

"He's running an errand for prince Seokjin," you told him, smile slightly falling because the herbs you had tried to collect the day before all went to waste when you and Yoongi came in conflict with Jinyoung and the other soldiers.

So Taehyung took up the job to get the herbs in your stead. A part of you felt bad and you had voiced it out but the princes wouldn't let you feel that way, deeming that you shouldn't be leaving the mountain for at least two more days just in case Jinyoung was still around the area.

You agreed. You had to. For one, you were in fear of seeing Jinyoung again. And two, the guys weren't going to let you even if you refused.

They were cute in that way, their stubborn protective selves who wouldn't let anything else happen to you.

"Aw, I wanted him to see me," Haeun pouted.

"It's okay, he'll be back," you promised.

"Y/N noona, will you be around more often now?" Another dragon asked. "You're helping out both prince Seokjin and prince Taehyung, right?"

"Oh, by the way, did something happen last night?"

"Yeah, I heard the warriors talking about how you didn't look so good and prince Yoongi looked upset."

"What happened?"

You smiled softly at their concerns and picked up the last one that had spoken. "Come here, come up my shoulder," you asked another one.

"But your shoulder.." he trailed off with worry. "Prince Taehyung said to be careful."

"It's alright," you promised, "I'm all healed."

Upon hearing that, he smiled brightly and almost instantly flew up to perch onto your shoulder. Haeun held out her hand and you took it to hold onto her hand. The rest of them followed along at your sides as you walked towards the entrance of the roost, staring out towards the dragon clan before you.

"All you have to know is that everything is better now," you said, "I'm alright."

"So, does that mean we'll be seeing more of you from now on? Has prince Namjoon said it was alright for you to take up two jobs?"

Yet before that, that meant you staying in the clan for good, didn't it?

As you looked out at the sight before you, the wonderful clan that had become a place you never thought you'd call a home, you felt as if things were finally beginning to fall into place. It wasn't all going to be always great, you knew that, but you also knew that if you were to stay, it would be better than to search for another place where you'd have to try and find another place where you could belong in.

So maybe you would indeed stay in the clan.

"I want to stay."

It had taken a few days for you to finally get the opportunity to bring it up but there you were, in the castle and telling them your wish as the sun began to set.

"If you'll let me."

"If we'll let you?" Namjoon laughed. "You were already one of us, Y/N. We were just waiting for you to make your final decision." He smiled when Jungkook tried to hide his bright smile but couldn't possibly do so.

"But I am no dragon," you pointed out.

"You don't need to be a dragon to be one of us," Seokjin said. "We've already accepted you."

"And besides," Namjoon stepped up from where he sat to walk over towards you. His tall height almost made him intimidating but it was nothing compared to when you had first met. Namjoon's eyes were kinder, softer, more gentle. Especially his hold, gentle when he took your hand into his. "Any human that can tame a prince, needless to say seven," you chuckled a little though slightly confused at where he was going, "they are the keeper of the dragon."

"Keeper?" You repeated the word and blinked at how strange it sounded on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes met Jungkook's and the two of you shared knowing smiles. "I am Y/N," you said, "keeper of the dragon."

The two of you burst out laughing, making the hyungs confused.

"What is it?" Hoseok asked.

"It was what I first told Jungkook when I first met."

"Yup," Jungkook snapped his finger, smirking. "The villagers made her keeper of the dragon," he looked at them, "aka me, because she was the only one who volunteered to keep guard of a dragon, the only one brave enough," he walked towards you, eyes never straying away from your sight, "courageous, and kind enough to befriend a mighty dragon."

Upon hearing that, the older dragons smiled knowingly.

"Indeed those are true," Taehyung nodded. "You walked into a clan of dragons and made them all like you."

"It took a while," you pouted slightly.

Jungkook took your chin upon his fingers. "But you did it." His voice was low and soft and you stared at one another for a moment but then you realized how close the two of you were and cleared your throat as you backed away, almost tripping but catching your balance again.

"W-well, um.." You turned back to Namjoon, face flustered and they smirked at the sight but you chose to ignore it for your sake. "So that's it?" You asked. "I'm automatically a member?"

"No," Namjoon shook his head, "we'll hold a ceremony tomorrow."

Your heart stopped. "Wait, what?"

"A ceremony," Yoongi repeated. "You know, the formal and public occasion celebrating an event."

"I know what a ceremony is," you gave him a small glare, "but why?"

"We always hold a ceremony when accepting someone into our clan," Jimin informed. "It's tradition, just like holding a ceremony for when the whelps become apprentices, and those apprentices become warriors and receive their assigned clan roles and any other ceremonies we've held."

"I..." you frowned, lips formed into a cute pout they found so adorable. "I don't want a ceremony."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to be in the center of attention, Hoseok."

"Well then how else will the clan know you've become a member?"

"Um? Announcing it?"

"Exactly," Seokjin laughed. "That's what the ceremony is for."

"But-"

"Don't worry, everyone here loves you."

"That's not what I'm worried about," you whined and they almost melted into puddles because you were so cute.

The ceremonies were always held in the ceremony hall. It was a large cleared space above the ground just like any other nests, but with ancient pillars that represented the previous leaders of the Clan. If Namjoon was ever to be gone, which wasn't soon, another pillar would be made in his honor.

You went to the ceremonies before, the last one being when a whelp was made into an apprentice. The one who was honored always wore something nice and looked presentable and that was what you came to fear the most besides the attention. After all, dressing up meant the attention being on you.

You tried to back out of it but Jimin and Taehyung wouldn't let you so you had to reluctantly allow the apprentices to help you out. They always helped out the ones who would be the reason to the ceremony being held and now there you were, not ever thinking you'd be one of them with a ceremony held for you.

The moment you came riding one of the apprentice's mentor, a warrior of the clan, the commotion died down as they all awaited for your presence.

You fell from the dragon with elegance and the room grew silent as their eyes widened at the sight of you. You thanked the warrior and turned to the two young apprentices who began to guide you through but everything became deaf to the prince's ears, visions blinded except from the sight of you.

You wore a beautiful dress with the top being white and the skirt a pretty light purple. Two flower embroiders fell at your shoulders where the laced cape both met and ended. The cape flowed behind you as you walked, falling to meet the ground, trailing along the same length as your dress. Your hair was down with a pretty flower crown made of authentic jasmines and pink roses. And your face, your face held onto one of the prettiest smiles they had ever seen and just for that alone, Namjoon found himself asking why he still hadn't asked his mates about what they thought of you yet.

You as their mate.

"Thank you," you whispered softly to the two apprentices once you got close to the hall and they bid you goodbye with little giggles, telling you that you looked pretty one last time.

When you walked on again, finally, you stood in front of Namjoon who was still left frozen in place until your nervous smile greeted him.

He chuckled knowingly when you gave him the look and smiled at you to ease your nerves.

You bowed before him and Namjoon began the ceremony. You had a hand clutched against your chest, still nervous of the whole formal occasion. You've seen the ceremonies before and the ones that bowed before Namjoon were always a little bit nervous but you thought of yourself as a little worse than them. After all, you were a human, possibly the first human to ever have a ceremony held for her as she was being accepted into a clan made of dragons.

"I, Kim Namjoon, leader of the Dragon Clan that protects the East Sky and Mountains, call upon my warrior ancestors to look upon us today as we accept a new member into our clan." The words were old and formal, a new one you hadn't heard of yet because no ceremony of a new clan member had been held yet when you were around. Hoseok told you that he and a few others had joined the clan as outsiders as well so it wasn't the first time they've held a ceremony such as yours. He went through the same thing so he understood your nerves to an extent.

Namjoon called upon your first and last name. "Do you promise to uphold the Dragon Code, to protect and defend the Clan, to remain loyal to me and the princes and all of the current members of this clan?"

"I do," you answered.

He stood tall and proud. "From now on, whatever clan you've served before, whatever village, town, chief, commander, leader you had lived under, your old life is no more. I welcome you as a new member. As Y/N, Keeper of the Dragons."

The cheers and welcoming proceeded immediately afterwards and you looked up to meet the eyes of the seven princes.

Keeper of the Dragons.

It was a little different, a little special for your case. After all, you were a human becoming a clan member to the dragons. Possibly the first human to have been able to not tame a dragon, but to befriend one.

Two.

Seven.

And many more.

"Y/N, come here!"

Before you could even process what was happening to you, the excitement in Hoseok's voice had already dragged you away and the next thing you knew, you were running away with him.

"Hoseok-" He quickly picked you up and you squealed as the man jumped off the ceremony hall, holding onto him tightly, only for the two of you to land right onto the back of Namjoon's. You pouted and hit Hoseok on his chest. "Don't scare me like that!"

The man laughed. "You really think I would let you fall?"

"What are we even doing?" You looked back at Namjoon whose eyes were just as beautifully golden as Jungkook, Hoseok, and Taehyung and then you realized, you also hadn't taken a chance to see Jimin's eyes with him as a dragon so you turned around and met a beautiful pair of silver eyes that glowed of the moon.

He smiled at you in response of your pretty smile and you giggled a little.

"We're going back to the castle," Namjoon said and flew on towards their home with the others closely behind.

They led you into the castle, past the living room and in between the two spiraling staircases. You took a left then a right and came upon a beautiful stained glass arched door before you. The colors crystalized in shades of blue and green combined with white, with two large roses on the bottom corners, vines spiraling upwards as smaller roses followed it.

"Whoa," you gasped in awe, "I've never seen this room before."

They shared gentle smiles before Jungkook went on to open the doors.

Your eyes widened even more as you stepped into the room, greeted by an enchanted greenhouse filled with greens and pretty flowers everywhere. A pathway began from the entrance, following in straight until it reached the center of the greenhouse and diverged into two paths leading around the center where a magnificent tree laid, and creating other paths as it circled the greenhouse.

The tree stood tall, its trunks split in two as it spiraled against one another in a twisted way, meeting at the top where the branches made way for the flowering vines to hand from the sky.

A beautiful wisteria in shades of the moonlight. Blue, purple, and pink.

"This greenhouse only allows the princes to walk in," Seokjin said and you turned around with perplexed thoughts.

"But...I'm not a prince," you pointed out. "Nor am I a dragon. How am I allowed in here?"

"Anyone high and important can also be allowed in," Hoseok said.

"But I'm not high or important."

Namjoon chuckled. "I granted you the title as Keeper of the Dragons, Y/N, so that makes you a very important figure."

"Wait," you blinked, "I'm special now?"

"You really thought being Keeper of the Dragons was just a random title?"

"Well...yeah?"

Yoongi laughed as he walked over to your side and gave you two little pats on your head. "Being a keeper is a grand job. You serve the clan you have uphold your promises upon with great loyalty and protection. You're a guardian. No one can hurt you now, not if they ever want to. They wouldn't dare to. Not the dragons, not even the other humans who may try to hurt you."

"How did..." you trailed off, even more bewildered and confused. "I don't understand."

"There has only ever been a keeper once is the past history," Jimin explained. "A keeper can only be a human with a pure heart with no intention of hurting a dragon or turning against the clans. The first keeper happened when our clan first came to be, when our very first leader reigned supreme about a hundred years ago. He was the only human our clan could ever trust."

"And now you're here," Hoseok smiled. "When Namjoon began the ceremony and asked for our ancestors to look upon us, the ancestors looked at you and your virtues, they looked into your heart because you are a human, the second one to ever become a member of a dragon clan in dragon history. And being that you are allowed in here, they've accepted you, Y/N."

"Wow."

It was a lot to take in in one day. You hadn't ever expected you'd become an actual keeper after announcing yourself as a keeper to Jungkook when you had first met. And now that you had become one, you could only think back on the times when things were the roughest.

Meeting Jungkook, telling him your endless stories despite him remaining silent, and making your first friend with a dragon that had been taken in as prisoner of your village. You stole blankets, food, and medicine for him. You stole the keys from the village chief for him. And when you had asked him to leave on his own, he insisted you coming to his clan with him.

You were shot by an arrow and the dragon carried you back to his clan where everyone doubted your loyalty and trust. All but Jungkook.

So because of the misunderstood information and doubtful trust, you were sent to live as a prisoner yourself. Prisoner of the dragons where Jimin himself grew out of his cold aura to try and make things a little easier for you.

You grew sick and Seokjin took care of you and through that, you fell off his back and went toppling down a cliff with Namjoon where you and him grew closer trying to get back to the clan.

It was then when things started to look better.

If the leader himself had put faith in a simple human girl, then the rest of the clan, trusting the leader with all their hearts, would try to understand you as well.

You grew so close to the princes and the clan throughout the many months of you staying in the clan, hoping to heal and leave them be once you've fully recovered.

Only to realize that perhaps a home with the dragons was the place where you belonged.

And you guessed you did, looking at the seven princes that stood before you, sharing a soft smile your way and welcoming you in their home with open arms.

You were now a keeper, a true Keeper of the Dragons.

.

.

The bridges were built by the builders of the Clan as Yoongi had once suggested, connecting from a nest to another and another and another, creating a much more convenient and efficient way for you to travel around.

It made you feel more independent in that sense, not having to rely on others or take the long way around trying to go from the medicine nests to the roosts or the other way around. And your tasks between being the caretaker of the whelps and Seokjin's apprentice was easier to balance.

"Y/N?"

You turned around at the call of your name with a small whelp in your arms. "Hoseok?" The visit was quite unexpected and you wonder why. "What in the world happened?" You gasped the moment you saw the large gash grazed upon his arm, a cut so deep, running down in a long line from his upper arm to his forearm. You quickly gave the little whelp to Haeun to run over to him, tears already beginning to brim because seeing any of them in pain had hurt.

Hoseok clenched his teeth regrettably for the fact that he came here but what other choice did he have when Seokjin wasn't in the medicine nest and Taehyung wasn't anywhere to be found? He couldn't fix his self up by himself because he had no clue what to do so you were the only option left.

But now, seeing that he's caused you to look this distressed, he wished he had just fix his own self up instead.

"Where's Seokjin?" You asked him, holding out to touch his hand but Hoseok flinched away instead.

"I was just about to ask you that, actually," he chuckled nervously.

You frowned. "Taehyung went out with Yoongi for something important but Seokjin should have been in the medicine nests. Something must have dragged him away for a moment." You turned back around. "Haeun-"

"I can handle the whelps, unnie! No need to worry!" She quickly declared with a cute salute and you smile softly to show that you were proud of her before turning back to Hoseok and grabbing the hand that wasn't injured, dragging him out of the roost and towards the medicine nests.

Hoseok stared back for a brief moment to find Haeun giving him a playful wink.

That cute little dragoness.

"What happened?" You had him sit on the bed as you went on to grab the many supplies needed to treat him. "Was Jungkook with you?"

"No," Hoseok shook his head. "He's with the hunting patrol that went North. I was on the West side."

"You didn't encounter a few dragons outside of our clan, did you?" You worried.

"Of course not." He said it so casually you didn't know whether to believe him or not. "Also, did you hear yourself?" You looked up at him, tilting your head in confusion. "You said our clan, not my clan and I think that's pretty sweet, don't you think?"

You frowned a little as you take his hand. "Focus," you said, sighing as you take a look at the gash. Seeing that look on your face Hoseok couldn't help but to reach over and place his thumb right in between your two brows, rubbing it for a few second. "Hoseok-"

"Don't frown, little one, it's better when you smile." He moved on to trail down your face where he held you there. "Close your eyes," he told you and though confused, the heat of his hand was enough to trust him so you do it without protest. In doing so, the little tears escaped yet Hoseok was there to brush them away. "You don't have to worry so much, you know, it's just me."

"It's not just you," you said. "You're a prince, Hoseok."

He frowned slightly. "That's it?" He asked almost quietly. "Just because I'm a prince?"

You gave him a small sweet smile that made his heart flutter. "You know you are so much more than just a prince, Hoseok. You're my friend and I care about you."

"Friend..." he whispered, "right."

Yet why had that simple word made the two of you feel some type of way you couldn't quite describe?

.

.

"Unnie, are you ever going to look for a mate?"

"I..-" You froze in place at the question Haeun had asked and looked up at Taehyung who looked back at you with a stare you couldn't quite read. "W-what?" You and Taehyung were making the beds of the little ones with Haeun who had grew to know how to shift into a human. You were sure she'd become an apprentice sooner or later and a ceremony would be made in her honor.

"Unnie, you're so pretty, why don't you have a mate yet?" She asked, her pout clear on her face as if she herself was disappointed you hadn't gotten a mate of your own. "Are the dragons just not your taste? Do you not want a dragon mate? Is that why?"

Her bombardment of questions made you flustered.

"I-I don't..-" you cleared your throat as you went on to fold another blanket, eyes now avoiding Taehyung's as he remained silent. "I'm shy, Haeun," you told her. "Someone would have to approach me if anything."

"So you wouldn't mind the dragons?"

You shrugged. "No, why would I?"

You didn't see it but her smile widened as she cast a mischievous look Taehyung's way who, in response, ruffled her head playfully.

"Ooh, then can I be your mate?" A dragon asked as he ran over to your side with glowing eyes. "Noona, when I can shift into a human, I know you will definitely like me!"

Haeun sucked her teeth. "Minho, you're way too young for her."

Yet he refused to back down. "I can surpass the age limit!" He took your hands, stopping you from folding the blanket you had. "When I become an adult and have become a warrior, I'll ask to be your mate again!"

"By then unnie will already have a mate," Haeun said as she poked his forehead, causing the little one to almost topple backwards.

"Not fair!" Minho pouted. "Noona, you have to wait for me."

"No way! You're not strong enough to protect her! I'll be noona's mate!" Another one came running over and the next thing you knew, they've created a whole argument about who would be the one who deserved you the most. You looked at Haeun, shaking your head playfully to remind her that she was the one who started the whole mess and now you would have to go in and stop the little ones from arguing.

"Hey, calm down now," you ordered gently with a giggle leaving your lips.

Taehyung couldn't help but to just stare at you as you went on to get in between the whelps, trying your best to calm them down. It didn't take much effort for you though. After all, the whelps all had a soft spot for their favorite person and although he found himself a little jealous, he couldn't blame them.

You were too pretty and soft for your own good, who wouldn't want to be your mate?

"Hey," Haeun whispered to him as she lightly poked him on the side, gifting him a smirk of her own. "Shouldn't you confess before it's too late? I'm sure the little ones aren't the only ones having a crush on unnie."

"Confess what?" Taehyung rolled his eyes as he sighed, acting oblivious but Haeun only giggled in response.

Who knew little kids knew so much.

But then again, the little girl was right. It was only a matter of minutes before he could truly lose you in the midst of the line of admirers that'd keep growing for you. So when the princes got together later that afternoon, he decided to bring it up.

"The whelps decided to confess their undying love to Y/N this morning," he announced first thing as he settled himself onto the sofa, grabbing a cushion and resting his face against it.

"Don't they always confess their love for Y/N?" Seokjin pointed out with a small chuckle.

"This time was different," he told them, pouting. "Little Haeun decided to ask Y/N when she'd get a mate so the little ones took that as the right time to propose, stating how age didn't matter and that when they grew older, they'd ask her to be their mate and then they went on to debate about who would be more deserving of her. It isn't right, you know," he said, huffing, "How are little kids more brave than the same seven princes whom everyone admires and claim we're the most courageous and brave yet we can't do a simple thing like confessing our undying love?"

The last sentence that came out of Taehyung was what made his other mates freeze in place as if they had been caught. But he wasn't done, not yet. "We all knew Jungkookie had a thing for her the second they came back from her old village but why can't we admit it?"

Jungkook scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously.

"You hadn't admit it either," Jimin pointed out though his eyes avoided the others.

"That's what I'm saying," Taehyung acknowledged, "but I'm admitting it now. I like her. I like Y/N."

The older ones simply smiled at the fact as they began to grow lost in their own thoughts thinking about it all. Taehyung was right, why hadn't they admit it sooner? They were mates and mates told each other everything, sharing thoughts and ambitions. Even falling in love with the same human girl.

"So we agree?" Namjoon asked, looking around at each one of them. "We want Y/N to be our mate?" There wasn't an open response but he knew how they felt by their expressions alone. Thank goodness no one looked like they had opposed to the proposal.

"But what if..." Jungkook began hesitantly. "What if she doesn't want it?"

"Well..." It certainly would hurt that was for sure. But Namjoon wasn't going to let the feeling be left unspoken for any longer. That wasn't how he was. "We'll find out today, won't we?"

They found you in the greenhouse when they opened the closed doors.

You were sat in front of the wisteria tree, back facing them while your hand reached out, gently stroking one of the vines that hung from the branches. It was a beautiful sight they could get used to until the end of time. You looked ethereal under the tree even though it was only your back that they could see.

Pretty flowers laid against your hair from the whelps that had decided to decorate your hair with flowers, saying how you looked so pretty when you had your ceremony and they wanted to create the look.

Taehyung remembered how they all failed at making the flower crowns so they settled with placing the flowers all over your hair instead.

You still looked pretty despite their armature skills, nothing could ever make you look anything less.

"Y/N?" Yoongi was the one who called your name and you turned around, a smile adoring your face as you caught sight of them all.

"Mother told me that the wisteria tree holds memories," you told them as you looked up at the vines again. "That it symbolizes nostalgia, love and bliss, patience and endurance, and longevity."

Seokjin smiled as they took their time making their way to you. "That is the very reason our ancestors decided to grow this tree," he said, taking a seat beside you. "It holds so many meanings and has grown so rare in our time."

"Mother always wanted to see one but she left too soon before she got to see how beautiful the stories always said it would be. It's even more enchanting and divine in person. It's almost a little..magical."

"Well then count yourself lucky because this is one of the last wisteria out of three that's still alive today."

You gasped at Hoseok's words, eyes widened at the fact. "Where are the other two?"

He shrugged, unsure. "Maybe with another clan?"

"What happened?" You asked. "Were they destroyed?" Jimin nodded. "Why?"

Namjoon let out a small sigh. "Human's greed," he said. "They saw something so beautiful they decided to take it for themselves and before you know it, close to all were destroyed simply because they couldn't stand the fact that something so beautiful existed, wanting it for themselves alone."

"You can't really blame them though."

You frowned at Jungkook's words. "Why not?"

His eyes fell at yours, a small smile curling at his lips. "I once did," he told you as he began walking closer to you. "I once thought, why couldn't they just share it with the world? Why keep it to themselves and inevitably destroy it?" You wondered the same thing, eyes never straying from his because of how mesmerizing his eyes were. "But then again, if I were to ever come across something so beautiful, I'd want to keep it for myself as well. For me and my hyungs. So that no one else can have it if they ever sought for it."

His hand touched your chin, tilting it upwards so that he could see you better, afraid for a moment that that would be the last time he could see you like that before the friendship could go into ruins.

"What I'm saying is..." You didn't know why but your heart was pounding hard against your chest, feeling a burst of butterflies fluttering in your tummy as you anticipated his shy, hesitant words. The hyungs held their breaths, even more scared themselves.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," Jungkook breathed, "and I just...I know it'll sound selfish, even greedy, but...I wouldn't want anyone else to have you. I wouldn't want them touching you, hurting you, and loving you. Because I..." He backed away, taking two slow steps backwards with soft smiles on their faces.

Yet the soft smiles alone was enough to have tears falling against your cheeks before you could even stop them and that had them gasping, quick to rush to your side.

"Y/N?" Jungkook called, holding your face to brush away the tears.

You took a moment to hold his hand, laughing a little at your obnoxious self. "Say it," you whispered and he tilted his head. "I want to hear it," you told him.

He looked up at the rest and they smiled. "I like you, Y/N," he simply said, eyes returning to rest on yours. "I love you."

"We all do," Namjoon nodded. Jungkook backed away just slightly as Namjoon took your hands into his, eyes staring straight into yours with a gentle gaze. "We love you but I know words aren't enough to say it. There are so many moments I've regretted back then, treating you horribly because I was so scared to let a human in. Jungkook knew it all along, and I'm sorry it had to take you risking your own health for me to finally open my eyes."

"Namjoon," you whispered his name in a soft tone, "I told you, didn't I? That you're worth all the pain?" You reminded him. "Plus," you said, squeezing his hands gently, giving Yoongi a brief glance before looking back at him, "between us, there are no sorrys and thank yous. There are only I love you," you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and letting the tears fall again, "and I love you too."

"One day, my love, I'll give you the world." He leaned back, held your head to lay a kiss on your forehead, and smiled as he looked at you with the rest sharing the same thoughts and wishes. "But for now, may I ask you, formally, to become our mates?"

You returned the soft smile. "Being your mates would mean that you've already given me the world and there is nothing more I would like than this."

A soft, soft word whispered into the air. Something only shared for the eight of you alone.

"I love you."

[bluearson]

Double Trouble

Request: I see your requests are open and you write ✨ soft Dabi ✨ can we get a little smth for Dabi with an s/o who has a water quirk that sooths his burns to further soft dabi supremacy 🥺 (thank you for all the fantastic fluffiness you have blessed us with 💕) The day started off ordinary.  The sound of music filled your ears as you patrolled around your self-claimed “turf”. Life was easy, a little dull but the life of a vigilante with no loyalties was not always boring.  Then you saw him, hiding away in an alleyway. He was tall, beautiful even you might say. The scars that littered his body looked painful. You felt almost sorry for him, a quirk that his own body can’t handle.  You wanted to help him.

Feeling confident you strode up to him, “Sir?” You spoke out to him.  He was almost like a feral cat, he shifted his weight quickly onto his other foot and extended his left hand, blue flames appeared between his fingers. It was like a reflexive survival instinct. Your reflexes were faster than his though, you pulled the moisture out of the air and snuffed his flames out. He watched in disbelief as steam bloomed off his hand. “That’s an impressive quirk you got,” He croaked. “So, what are you? A pro hero?” There was an malicious edge laced into the words he spoke. “I wouldn’t want to rope myself in with such close-minded people.” You scoffed, “I’m better than that. I’m my own boss.” You crossed your arms over your chest as you eyed the flame-quirked stranger.  He only grunted in response as he looked you over. You felt like he was scrutinizing you under his eye. “If our paths cross again.. I think I’d prefer having your help.” He was gone before you could even say goodbye. Even though he hadn’t made the best first impression, neither did you. You weren’t sure how to feel about the next time you met him. At the very least you hoped that you wouldn’t be on the wrong side of his flames a second time. You shuddered at the thought.  You caught a glimpse of him walking down the street together with a girl much shorter than him, she rather cute. You wondered about what relationship they must have had. They seemed like good friends at the least. She was very animated and clung onto his arm as they walked together. Secretly you wished you could be her, clinging to his arm as you strolled through the city. That was another fantasy to write about in your journal. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been infatuated by someone but man.. you really wanted to be at his side. The universe seemed to have enough of punishing you when one day you heard a voice calling out to you, you looked over your shoulder as you took a long swig of water from your water bottle. You flashed the familiar figure a smile as it came fast approaching. “I missed you.” “I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long, sweetheart.” He teased. “I like what you have to offer. I think we could make a pretty good alliance.” The words sent your heart a fluttering. Alliance? He wanted to form an alliance with you? “I would like that..” You extended your hand to touch his forearm, looking up at him as though you were asking permission to touch him. Your fingertips grazed his skin softly. When he didn’t move away you allowed your hand to settle on his rough skin. “Does it ever hurt?” You asked as you examined where the stables met his skin. “Sometimes.” He answered quietly, as though he was sharing a secret with you. “Do you have somewhere we can discuss this privately? I hate being out in the open too long..” He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes darted around. “Yeah I have a little hideout where I make deals.” You turned on your heels and made a beeline for the hideout before you could even see the look on his face. Once inside you fastened the series of locks that prevented squatters from breaking in when you weren’t around to protect your secret base.  You told your new partner all about your quirk, nearly professing that you held a flame for him once or twice as you tried to explain how useful you could be to him. You had experience teaming up with criminals before. Together you were a force to be reckoned with, especially since you could stay hidden as you supported Dabi from the shadows. You began to notice he’d start doing little things for you.  You even took note that his arm stopped sizzling as much after a fight, usually you tried your best to keep up with him but there was only so much you could do while trying to not seem like a shady person carrying around several gallons of water. Still you felt like your efforts were always appreciated, even if they weren’t up to the standards you wanted every time. You lived for the way he’d pat your head as steam rose off his arm. The way he’d smile at you even for a brief moment.  “I love you.” You said to him one day as he smoked his morning cigarette. You were enamored by him, utterly and totally captivated by everything he did. “I’m glad we’re apart of each other’s lives.” You quickly added.  The raven haired villain took a long drag before exhaling the smoke, you watched as some slipped through the staples in his face, it looked as though he was a dragon breathing fire. “I’m glad you’re around.” He tore his eyes away from yours and you felt a little deflated.  You wondered if there was ever a chance he’d see you as something more than just his “sidekick”. You wanted to ask him if he was single or not, about that girl you saw him hanging out with all those months ago. It never seemed like the right time, nor the right place. You didn’t want to ruin a good thing.  Things didn’t change between the two of you after your little outburst. You still couldn’t push your feelings aside for him, no matter how hard you tried. “Dabs, do you try to push me away because you don’t think I can be a good villain?” It had been on your mind for a while, the way he seemed to keep you at arms length even though you both shared a common goal. “You don’t need to protect me if that’s what you’re trying to do. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and holding my own.” Your eyes searched his for an answer, for a glimmer of emotion under the tough guy act he held in public. You knew him long enough to see right through him. Every mask he wore. Every layer he tried to mask his true feelings behind.  You wanted to tear all those walls down for him, to hold him in your arms and play with his hair. To be vulnerable with each other and raise hell together. If he wanted to watch the world burn you’d gladly fan the flames of his ambitions and further his goals. You wanted to see him succeed in everything. For the world to know that there was nothing that could stop him with his partner in crime by his side.  He just stared back into your (E/C) eyes, a sad look washed over his face. He couldn’t just say you didn’t understand, you knew about his ideologies. You supported him with every fiber in your body. He cupped the side of your face, rubbing his thumb against your smooth skin.  For once he didn’t have a snarky comeback to bite back at you with.  You two just stood there, staring into each others having a silent conversation. It felt as though you two were trying to telepathically communicate with emotion what words couldn’t possibly convey. It lacked the power to truly grasp the full breath of the things you wanted to tell each other. Dabi pressed his forehead against yours, “I don’t ever want you to act recklessly because you’re following behind me. I never want you to get yourself hurt trying to keep up with me.” He paused, and brushed a lock of hair out of your face. “I know my own limits, and I know when I’m pushing myself too far. You don’t need to worry about me like I’m some.. fragile kid. I’m not made out of porcelain. I’m made out of flesh and bone, muscles.. and I’m a lot more sturdy than I might look.” You laughed lightheartedly, trying to lighten the mood. “I appreciate the fact that you’re looking out for me Dabi.. but I can only do so much if you keep me at arms length. I want to be your equal.”  “You always were.” “Then let me in. Open up to me. Talk to me for fucks sake.” “I think actions speak louder than words. Words get jumbled.. twisted.” He tore his eyes away from yours as he looked off into the distance. He seemed so far away and you let him have his moment to reflect. “You’re too valuable to me. You help the pain stop. I’ve gotten too used to it Y/N. You know you’re really cruel sometimes..” He toyed with a lock of your hair. “You’ve got me hooked on your special little treatment and now I can’t stand the thought of you no longer being apart of my life. You’ve made yourself essential to my personal comfort.” You pulled him into a hug, squeezing him gently as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. It took a moment before he wrapped his arms around you in kind, his body was warm. “How do you think I feel?” You chuckled as you shook your head, “I’ve always been fascinated by you Dabi, ever since the first day I met you. I’ve never been able to get you off my mind for even a single second to myself.”  “Damn..”  You felt a rough kiss being planted onto the of your head. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you in my life?” He chuckled. “Don’t ever say I never loved you. You just weren’t looking close enough. Too caught up in your head to realize I’ve been saying it ever since I agreed to let you into my life.” You said nothing as you simply enjoyed his embrace. Drinking in his scent as you let his warmth envelop you whole. “Wherever you go, I’ll be close behind. Damn all the consequences. There’s no place in this world I’d rather be than with the man I cherish. I trust you with all of me, Dabi.” You planted a kiss on his cheek. “When you’re finally ready to entrust all of you, your baggage, scars, and whatever else you’re hiding away from. I’ll be there, to help ease your pain.” You took his hand and raised it to your lips, planting a firm kiss into his skin. Taglist: @some-kindofgnome @humanitiesstrongestchicken @hecatve @axerrri

[wickedmilo]

NOT SO TERRIFYING | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: Metzli’s Apartment TIMING: 8:57 PM SUMMARY: Struggling to process nearly hurting Bex, Milo turns to Metzli for support WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcohol tw, alcoholism tw, mentions of grooming, abuse tw, emotional abuse tw

The vampire version of sleep wasn’t something Milo usually enjoyed. Yes, it allowed for a few hours of blissful escapism, but it wasn’t the warm, comfortable escapism that Human sleep so often provided. This was cold, and clinical. A strange sense of nothingness. Sometimes it felt like he closed his eyes and lost entire days, no passing of time, no way of knowing just how long he had been dead to the world. But today, waking up as the sun began to disappear behind clouds, and the White Crest horizon, he was grateful for it. Grateful that, for a while at least, he had been able to forget the previous evening. Bex had been so ready to get drunk, so ready to have fun, but her intoxication had quickly become a rage he hadn’t seen before, there was a frenzied spark behind her eyes as she hurried into the woods, in search of someone, or something he had never heard her speak of. And then… he swallowed, the memories rushing back to him. He had never lost control like that before, never been so overwhelmed by the urge to hurt a friend. It was different to the way he had felt upon first becoming a vampire. That had been feral, and confusing, and his mind had gone utterly blank. This loss of control hadn’t just been desperate, but calculating. He hadn’t lunged for Bex to kill her, or drain her. His mind had been telling him to be careful, justifying the urge for her blood alongside the urge to protect her. It scared him to know he could think that way, could validate his own desires when they were obviously at the expense of somebody he cared about. He had text Metzli during the day, asking for their help, but now that night was falling and he was able to visit them, he didn’t feel so confident in his decision.  

He could talk to Harsh, but he didn’t want to disappoint him, and he definitely didn’t want to cause him any more trouble. After taking him in, and teaching him so much, he didn’t deserve to worry about whether his ward might be volatile, or dangerous. He could talk to Metzli too, but he was embarrassed by what had taken place, undeniably ashamed of his actions. No, Metzli was the perfect person to talk to. And he needed to talk to someone. Not only would they understand the effect fresh blood could have on a vampire, they had almost hurt Bex once too. The thought filled him with guilt. The two vampires closest to Bex had both made attempts to drink her blood, it couldn’t exactly fill her with confidence. But at least Metzli knew what he was going through, they must have faced the same inner turmoil, the same guilt, and trauma after their own attack. Picking up his phone to make sure he remembered their address, he peeked outside to make sure the sun was well and truly set before shrugging on a jacket and leaving the house. He had showered, and changed into clothes not covered in mud. But he still didn’t feel clean. His skin was itchy, his mouth dry like cotton, and his head was pounding due to the hangover he had been hoping he might be able to avoid. The blood bag in his pocket was heavy, and he wrapped both hands around it, holding it so that it wouldn’t tug down the whole front of his hoodie. He could only imagine the looks he would receive if people only knew what he was carrying. Eventually approaching what he assumed must be Metzli’s building, he let himself in and wandered the halls, taking each staircase slowly, prolonging the inevitable. When he finally reached the right apartment, he chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the door for far too long before finally knocking on it. Hesitant, and awkward. “Metzli- it’s me.”

Metzli was just in the middle of finishing up a match when Milo knocked. They had spent the day at home, only playing and doing the occasional stretch. The gallery would be fine, and the three employees they had could run it with ease. After a simple lie of going to acquire paintings out of state, they took their leave and cooped themselves up. Without even realizing it, they had begun to nest. Avoiding day to day responsibilities in order to stay isolated and do what they could to turn the negative thoughts and feelings into something different. Maybe even forget what they had learned so they didn’t have to feel this mixture of rage and agony. 

The door opened suddenly as they pulled rashly, and they put in their best mask, sewing it together with their veins. “Hey Milo, come in.” Metzli waved him in, but really Yuca was the one who prompted him to step forward when she rubbed against his legs. “Yuca. ¡Apacíguarse!” They snapped and shooed her away while Milo was greeted with a picture perfect living room.  

Yuca trotted away, beeping and meowing in a way that sounded annoyed. The reaction she gave them made them chuckle a little before returning their attention to Milo. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get us a drink.” Metzli walked over to their minibar and collected two crystal glasses and a whiskey decanter. When they were finally seated, the glasses were filled a quarter of the way and parsed out the cups between the two. “So, tell papa Metzli what’s going on.”  

Milo flinched as the door was pulled open. It was sudden, and fast, and having the one barrier between himself and Metzli removed made him feel infinitely more vulnerable. Avoiding eye contact with them, he crossed the threshold after being invited in, immediately hit by a familiar scent. “Is Bex here?” His voice was sharp as he became concerned by the fact that his friend might be present. He wasn’t ready to face her just yet, he was barely ready to face himself. But it quickly became clear the scent was a remnant, the only heartbeat he could hear belonged to the cat rubbing against his legs. He offered the animal a weak smile, his expression slipping back to one of forlorn self-pity as Metzli hurried to shoo their pet away from him. For a brief moment, Yuca had been a welcome distraction. Finally looking up, begrudgingly catching Metzli’s eye, he walked further into the room at their instruction, heading towards the couch. He stopped before sitting down, reaching into his pocket to pull out the blood bag. “Speaking of…” He muttered, waiting for Metzli’s attention so that he could throw the bag to them from where he was standing. “Enjoy.”  

Pushing his glasses further up his nose, pulling off his jacket to throw over the armrest closest to him, he fell back onto the cushions with a huff of breath. His shoulders hunched, it didn’t take very long for him to slip down into them, slouching as though maybe he could hide from his problems if only he made himself small enough. Waiting patiently, he listened to Metzli ready two drinks, focusing on the quiet sounds so he wouldn’t be forced to contemplate the reason for his visit. The smell of alcohol wafted towards him on a barely existent draft, and as his drink was poured, he reached out eagerly for the glass. Tapping his fingers against the side of it, grateful to have something to do with his hands, he shrugged, attempting to look casual, and unaffected. “I still don’t know if this is a good idea.” He admitted. “If I even…” But he did want to talk about it, whether he wanted to admit that to himself or not. That much was made clear by the fact that he had considered who to talk to, had messaged the best person to console him, and walked to their apartment the moment he was able to. Why did everything have to be so difficult? “Last night was just... really fucking shit.” He said finally, a frown creasing his brow at the understatement. “And I don’t know what to do- I don’t know how to feel. And I thought maybe- maybe you would understand.” 

Metzli wiggled their fingers in overly excited anticipation. It had been a few days since their last meal so they quickly took the blood bag from Milo’s hands. Their teeth punctured to holes and they took a few gulps as Milo spoke. His voice was filled with regret, guilt built up from what had transpired between him and Bex. An all too familiar sound, but this time it wasn’t Metzli that was the source of it. “Why did you try to bite her anyway? You didn’t want to kill her, that’s obvious.” A pointed statement, an unnecessary one. Milo knew why he wanted to talk about it, but Metzli didn’t.  

They could relate in a way, but they couldn’t connect with the true feelings of what they had done easily. If they thought of it passively, there wasn’t a single regret, not one morsel. But if they thought long enough, and played the images in their head, they could practically grab the regret and through the walls of soullessness.  

“I guess I might understand. But the two times I bit Bex…she volunteered once, and the second time…I wanted to kill her. Well—I wanted to want to kill her.” 

Milo watched as Metzli tore into the blood bag with their teeth. He was too used to pouring his blood into mugs, heating it in the microwave to mimic body temperature. He could only assume if his friend was drinking it cold, without any kind of hesitation, that they were thirsty. He remembered them mentioning an arrangement with somebody they knew. Were they still getting regular meals? Or were they starving again? He chose not to ask, too worried about what the answer to his question might be. His frown deepening as Metzli decided to forgo small talk, usually he would be grateful, but he almost found himself longing for it now. He swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Of course I didn’t want to kill her.” He couldn’t stop himself from sounding defensive, offended by the thought even though he knew, deep down, it was a valid concern. “I was… I was scared.” He admitted, his voice quiet as he lowered his gaze. He stared at the glass in his hands, at the alcohol inside of it. Fear felt like a good place to start. “We were drunk too, I was- I was so drunk, Metzli… Bex ran into the forest. I followed her and there were these- these creatures. I think she knew what they were, but not well. I’ve never seen anything like them before. She was bleeding, I can’t remember why. I think while we were trying to escape the creatures I was distracted. I knew I wanted her blood but it wasn’t my priority, you know? I could ignore that feeling…” He trailed off, taking a long drink so that he had a moment to collect his thoughts. The alcohol burned, and he relished the sensation. Hopefully it would chase away his hangover.  

“And then the creatures left… it was like everything that was distracting me disappeared at the same time. The fear, and panic, and adrenaline. Everything was just… gone. All that was left was her blood. So I-” He broke off again, blinking tears from his eyes. He wasn’t sure when they had formed, and he reached up to brush them away, embarrassed by the display of emotion. “I didn’t know that could happen.” He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I know if we don’t eat, we can be dangerous… but I drink a lot of blood, more than I need to. And I didn’t realise I could still lose control like that. I wasn’t trying to kill her, but doesn’t that make it worse? Because I kind of knew what I was doing, I was trying to rationalise it.” Letting out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping now that he had said what he needed to say, he was hoping it would feel like a weight had been lifted. But if anything, he only felt more miserable. The second time I… I wanted to kill her. His heart dropped, an uncomfortable sensation now that he no longer had a heartbeat, a constant sense of movement inside his chest. Maybe Metzli couldn’t understand. Maybe this entire endeavour was pointless. He finished what was left of his drink, pushing himself to stand. “Forget it.” He muttered, swiping his jacket from the arm rest. “Forget it, this was stupid. I shouldn’t have come.” 

With the blood bag depleted, Metzli threw it on the coffee table and grabbed their drink. “Milo, look…” They leaned back cooly into the couch, enjoying the cold sensation of the untouched  leather. “Whether you like it or not, you’re a predator. And Bex, she’s your prey. You’re still relatively new to being a vampire. Blood is blood and when the animalistic side of our brain registers it, it’s like it turns off every humane sense in us.” Memories of when they tried to kill Bex plagued their mind, and they bit their lip, hard. “That side does get easier to manage though. When I bit Bex, I was able to let go. I was even able to have her blood smeared on me and able to clean it up. It just takes time.”  

Metzli looked softly at Milo but was quickly distracted by Yuca leaping onto the couch for attention. Always for attention. She purred loudly and pushed her head into Milo’s chest, basically begging him to pet her. Regardless of how cute she was being, they continued, “It’s natural to crave it, it’s who we are. It’s ingrained in us. My recommendation? Until you’re able to suppress that side, take to biting your own hand or arm,” they paused, taking a sip of the whiskey before continuing. “Pain usually overloads the senses enough to stop everything else. It’s what I do when I’m fighting for control. It’s what I did when Bex practically begged me to take her blood when I was starving myself. And if a piece of shit like me can stop themselves, so can you.” 

Milo glared at Metzli, partially because he didn’t enjoy being spoken to as though he was missing something obvious. Partially due to the fact that they were undeniably making a lot of sense. Just because he chose to navigate around the bloodlust, and aggressive instincts, it didn’t mean they weren’t there. His body and mind had been changed, even if he hated the idea, even if the idea made him uncomfortable. He had been carefully designed to see humans as food because… well, they were food. “But I wasn’t hungry.” He stated again, as though that alone could erase what had taken place. He wasn’t hungry, so he had no reason to lose control. Why couldn’t it be that simple? He could hear the desperation in his own voice, hear how hard he was trying to move past his guilt, but he was too tired to hide his emotion. Metzli already knew he was upset, they could probably read him as well as Macleod given how much time they had spent together. “I don’t want it to take time. I don’t want to feel like- like some ticking time bomb that could get triggered the moment somebody gets hurt. If I can’t trust myself then… then how is anybody else going to trust me? How is Bex going to trust me, Metzli?”  

Falling silent, he felt fresh tears begin to sting at his eyes as he welcomed the sudden appearance of Yuca. The cat settled the anxiety in his chest, and he reached out to scratch her ears as she clambered onto his lap. She butted his palm with her head, rubbing against him without any concern for her safety. “I should bite myself?” He echoed. Maybe once upon a time the thought would have felt barbaric, and animalistic. Now, given his natural desire to lead with his teeth, it made an awful lot of sense. He secretly hoped there would never come a time where the strategy would become necessary, but he wasn’t stupid. He understood just how possible it was. “I don’t think you’re a piece of shit.” He murmured, staring down at Yuca so that he could avoid making eye contact with his friend. “I think you’re a good person.” 

Metzli understood that fear, that panic to get a sense of control over something so clearly out of reach. The anger that came, not only at the person who caused it all, the sire, but yourself too. Because now that the sire is gone, all that is left is you. You’re left with this slice of life with nothing sweet on the side. Left to figure skate alone on thin ice. But Milo didn’t have to be alone. Not if Metzli figured out how to be there. “I think you just need to accept what you are now, Milo. Stop hating what you are and accept yourself. All of it. The blood, the instincts, the senses, all of it. You’re still you, depresso.” They put as much energy as they could muster in the words, feeling a little dejected and tired from their own troubles.  

“Bex hasn’t lost her trust in you. She still trusts you. And cares about you. She has accepted you before you have.” Metzli stated, as if it was obvious enough for everyone to see. “I tried to kill her and when I had a panic attack at that very moment, she checked on me.” A scoff slipped past their lips at the memory, and a pang of something made their face fall into a small frown. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s gonna take a little bit of time and practice. You’ll get there, though.” They waved dismissively at the compliment and stretched before pouring more whiskey in both glasses and propping their feet onto their coffee table.  

“Oh, neat. They’re healing faster now. Thanks for the blood.” Metzli referred to the bite marks on their thighs. With Milo being current company, they laughed and got excited at the potential to gross him out.  

Milo chewed on his bottom lip. It wasn’t the first time somebody had told him to accept his vampirism as a part of himself. Maybe one day he would get there, he had definitely stopped mourning for everything he had lost, stopped focusing on what he missed so that he could pay more attention to the present. And it was becoming more familiar, more steadily normal. But not easy. Not yet. “I don’t know how.” He admitted, feeling small, and helpless. At a loss of what else he could say. He appreciated the way Metzli was speaking, they were no longer reminding him of how illogical his thoughts could be. Instead they were comforting him in the way they knew he needed to be comforted. “I know I’m still me…” His voice was quiet as he thought back on the first conversation he had ever shared with Harsh. Harsh had been one of the only people to tell him that, to tell him no matter what happened he was still the same Milo Summers. Finally looking up again at the mention of Bex, there was no doubt in his mind that Metzli was right. But he didn’t want to believe them because he didn’t deserve forgiveness, or understanding, or trust. Not from Bex, not from the person he was supposed to protect.  

“Was she here?” He asked, still able to detect her scent. It clung to the furniture, briefly becoming stronger each time he shifted in his seat. “Did she tell you that?” A weak smile tugging at his lips as Yuca finally curled up to sleep, he focused on the warmth of their body, how unconditionally loving she was. “She ran- I don’t know if she told you that. She couldn’t even look at me, she just… ran.” His heart ached as he considered how scared she must have been. How jarring was it to escape danger, to feel the crushing sense of relief that came with the knowledge of being safe, only to realise there was a new danger? An unexpected danger that you could never hope to be prepared for?   

Ignoring Metzli as they poured him another drink, he became momentarily distracted by their comment, glancing up at them to see what they were referring to. It was only as they lifted their legs that he noticed the bite marks littering their inner thighs. It took him all of two seconds to realise Macleod was the one to leave them there, and he wrinkled his nose, unable to help himself. “Jeez, you guys have issues.” He muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re like teenagers… you need to fucking chill.” 

“Practice then,” Metzli began, a voice full of experience and history. “You’re scared of your own existence. And you have every right to be. We’re deadly creatures. We drink the lives of humans and can do it before they even react. You know what that feral feeling is now. Use it.” They stared at Yuca, taking a second to listen to her purr. Two monsters in a room and she felt safe. That had to mean something. “Use that experience and take control of the beast. You don’t have to be scared of what you can do. You just have to be scared of failure. And I think you love Bex a lot more than you are scared of your inner beast.” This, too, was familiar. The control that Metzli lacked after being turned. Nearly killing the last of the survivors when they went to check on the ruins of their village. Impossible wasn’t an option then, and it isn’t one now for Milo either. Success was akin to effort and chance, that it felt so close to being in range. 

“She was here, yeah. After what happened, she came straight here and spent the night. I could smell her outside the building and wanted her blood so badly. But I…I love her more than I do blood and managed to patch her up and let her fall asleep on me.” Metzli smiled softly at the recollection, but tensed soon after, feeling vulnerable and exposed for saying such a thing. “I—uh, she, yeah. She left the next morning and was fine. Just a little scraped and tired.” 

Eager to move on, Metzli raised their crop top and revealed several more bite marks on their abdomen and neck. “You should see your mom. She gets a lot more, but she heals a lot faster. Look, it’s not her fault she can’t feel as much. We gotta do what we gotta do.” The vampire gave Milo a toothy grin, hoping he wouldn’t remark on the proclamation they just gave only moments prior. 

“I’m not scared.” Milo bit out, knowing even as he spoke the words that they were incredibly untrue. It was obvious to him, and undoubtedly obvious to Metzli, but he refused to correct himself. Maybe if he said them with enough conviction they would become true. Maybe if he didn’t take them back then he could manifest them. Still focusing on Yuca, allowing the cat to distract him from the true weight of the conversation, he was surprised to find Metzli was making a lot of sense. When you were familiar with a sensation, you had more hope of controlling it, or at the very least recognising its triggers. You don’t have to be scared of what you can do. You just have to be scared of failure. A sigh escaping him, he nodded in response. He did love Bex, he loved Bex more than he had ever been expecting to. Something told him his company might relate to that. Maybe he had spent too much time running from what he was, and not enough time breaking it down, learning about every aspect and element of his new being. 

A gentle smile tugging at his lips, he tried to imagine Metzli sitting with Bex curled up in their lap. It was a strange image, given what he knew of the vampire, but a very welcome one. It made him wonder whether they liked him more than they let on. They always made such a show of not caring, but maybe to some degree it was just that; A show. “She was okay?” He asked, unable to hide how desperate he was for the assurance. “Really?” Not realising he had been leaning forward in his seat, he fell back against the cushions again, letting out a petulant groan at the sudden change of subject. “You gotta do what you gotta do but that doesn’t mean you gotta tell me about it.” He teased, feeling his mood begin to brighten as they fell back into their usual habits. He wasn’t used to being so vulnerable with Metzli, and he was so tired. Both mentally, and physically. “I already have enough trauma, I don’t need you two adding to it.” 

Their eyes couldn’t roll any harder if they tried. But Metzli wouldn’t remark on Milo’s fib. He wasn’t just lying to Metzli, but he was lying to himself too. They understood. It was a practice they had mastered themselves. “She was okay. Just a little panicky. By the time morning came, she was a lot better and even had some breakfast. She’s okay, Milo. Worried about you, even. It sounds crazy, I know. But like I said, she’s accepted what you are before you even could.”  

On their third glasses, they didn’t even bother to sip it, simply throwing their head back to practically inhale the drink. As they poured another glass, Metzli locked eyes with Milo, “I recommend getting in touch with her. ‘Cause right now, you’re more scared of you than she is of you. And next time, you’ll be better prepared. I've been a vampire a long time. A soulless one at that. If I can learn, so can you.” A reassuring energy covered their words, actually finding a source of genuine fondness for Milo. They saw a lot of themselves, their self that had a soul as a vampire for a few weeks, in him.  

“What, you gonna go tattle to her? Again?” Metzli laughed and let their head fall back onto the couch. “I think I’m actually starting to really like her. Her and I are actually gonna go on an actual date on Friday. Oh! Speaking of,” they paused, sipping on the whiskey. “I’m heading out of town on Saturday. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. You think you can come by Saturday night to feed Yuca? No problem if you can’t.” 

Milo narrowed his eyes, not failing to notice Metzli’s response. But they didn’t say anything, and he didn’t have enough energy to try and start an argument. Not when they had been so understanding, not when they were genuinely trying to help him. He felt the guilt in his chest flare at the mention of Bex being panicked, but he reminded himself that said information wasn’t new. She had run from him, of course she was panicked. What truly mattered was how she felt once she was safe, whether she was scared of him, or angry, or anxious. A quiet laugh of disbelief escaping him, he shook his head, as always intrigued, and amazed by his friend’s ability to forgive. Metzli was right. Bex knew he was a vampire, and she knew what that meant for their dynamic. He was the one who was struggling to accept the truth. Quickly finishing what was left in his glass so that he could encourage Metzli to refill it, he relished the buzz of the alcohol he had already consumed. It was warming his fingertips, relaxing his tense muscles.  

“Yeah, I guess…” He agreed, resigning himself to what he was being told. Metzli knew better. And though they weren’t the type to bring up their age gap, they were older. They had been doing this for far longer. He really should be listening to them, he really should be taking in what they were trying to teach him. “She text me…” He admitted, swallowing as he thought about the reply he still owed her. It was so difficult to know what to say. Hallmark didn’t sell ‘sorry I tried to drink your blood’ cards, and even if they did it wouldn’t feel like enough. His smile slipping back into place, he stuck out his tongue. “Maybe…” He countered, pleased for the lighthearted topic. “Although you’re a bad influence. It probably won’t be long before she starts doing this shit too, and then who’s going to get mad when people punch me in the face?” Shifting in his seat, curious to hear what Metzli was going to ask him, he was shocked to realise they wanted him to take care of Yuca, and he could only assume their apartment by extension. “What? Why?” He felt suddenly concerned. It was strange that they were leaving with no idea of how long they might be gone for. “What are you- I mean, where are you going?” 

The effects of the alcohol were visible on Milo. He relaxed and began to genuinely listen to Metzli’s words, which they didn’t expect him to do. As someone who rarely listened to anyone else, they never felt offended when someone didn’t listen to them. That’s why when Milo half heartedly agreed, it didn’t really incite a reaction. There wasn’t one that needed to be executed. Moving on, they tipped the decanter towards Milo’s cup and poured. It was halfway gone now, but there was no buzz to be found yet.  

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll be the one to get mad. Or maybe both of us. But I don’t know. It’s probably best we just stay fuck buddies. I’ve never done the whole relationship thing and don’t plan to. Connections like that are dangerous.” Metzli thought out loud, practically rambling. Shaking their head, they managed to refocus and look at Milo as he questioned them. They wondered if they should tell him the truth. But if they were to not return, they thought it best that they did. At least, for Yuca’s sake. “I’ll pay you. I only plan on being gone two, maybe three days. Uh…” There was a loud gulp as they chucked the rest of their glass back and poured another. The tingling and warmth finally come to the forefront of their senses. “My sire, my master, he uh…he found me. Sent some clan members to spy on me and feed him info. So I’m gonna go find the hideout and rip them apart.”  

Fear and rage mixed together like oil and water. It didn’t work. They wanted so desperately for them to mix so they could use them both as motivation. But fear won in the end. What their face showed though, was nothing but composure. Not having a heartbeat was a saving grace. One brought out of hellish actions and not a prayer. “And don’t worry, I got backup. Bex was already on my ass about it.” 

“I don’t want either of you to get mad.” Something Milo definitely wouldn’t have said out loud if he had been sober, but he also didn’t regret his words. They were true. Metzli, and Macleod had both been integral parts of his life as a vampire. He didn’t know where he would be without them. The thought of them getting upset, or arguing made him nervous, which was ridiculous really. As much as he liked to joke, they weren’t actually his parents. “Yeah, me neither…” He murmured, a frown creasing his brow. It was something he was being forced to consider a lot, as of late, and not a topic he was entirely comfortable with. He always told himself he didn’t need a relationship, he was more than happy on his own. He was saving himself a lot of trouble by avoiding them, but what if it wasn’t that simple? The way his heart ached for Orion told him that he might be lying to himself. Jeez, why hadn’t he just kissed him? 

“Dangerous why? Because people could get hurt?” He asked, wondering what logic Metzli was using. Maybe it was a similar brand to his own. He opened his mouth, confused about the offer of payment. He knew he should insist otherwise, tell Metzli he didn’t need their money. But truthfully, he was never somebody to turn down payment, not when his habits were so undeniably expensive. “I- okay.” He agreed, watching them as they seemed to search for courage at the bottom of their glass. Only when they spoke again did he understand why. “What?” His voice was so sharp that Yuca stirred, staring up at him as though daring him to interrupt her slumber. “Metzli, what the fuck- isn’t he like, the biggest asshole on the planet? Can’t you just- I don’t know, lay low for a while?” He spluttered, sitting upright, on edge again despite his intoxication. Yuca gave up on a comfortable perch, standing slowly before jumping from his lap, realising he was no longer going to sit still for her. “Metzli, backup or no backup, you can’t just take down a bunch of vampires. Even I know that.” 

Metzli chuckled and shook their head as they pinched the bridge of their nose. “Connections like romantic relationships are dangerous because I’m a monster, Milo. Though I enjoy it most of the time, even I know things like me don’t get that romantic ending. And I’ve never cared for one anyway.” Their glass of whiskey was quickly depleted and they stared off into nothing, losing focus and watching as their vision blurred. Everything was so muffled while they got lost in their distant stare. But Milo managed to reel them back in with his questions and concerns.  

“Chill. I know how master works. He’s gathering intel right now, and I need to get rid of his little crew so he gets blinded for a while. It’ll buy me time to figure things out. Macleod is actually the one coming with. She said she’s an expert at ripping heads off, so I figured she was my best bet.” Metzli explained further and motioned for Milo to calm down. Confidence radiated from their body language, knowing that they could handle themselves from years of experience. “I’ve taken down multiple groups of vampires, kid. I’ll be fine. Please just focus on Yuca.” A half-hearted smile formed subtly on their face and they sighed. The signs of stress were making themselves evident, but they knew they had to be strong. 

With a pat to Milo’s shoulder, Metzli looked straight into his eyes and began, “I promise I’ll be fine.” A grimace flashed over their face and they gagged dramatically. “Yeesh. That felt weird to say. Just tell me to fuck off and die so I know it’s real.” 

Milo sat in silence, watching Metzli as they explained their stance, their words cutting through him sharper than any knife ever could. Had he missed his chance? Had he spent so long insisting he didn’t need romance in his life that the moment for it had entirely passed him by? He thought of Evelyn and Miriam, of Bex and Mina. They were supernatural, and they had found ways to navigate their love for each other. Evidently it was possible. “Does that mean I don’t get one either?” He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He didn’t want to admit the longing he suddenly felt, but it was true that you only knew how much you wanted something when it became impossible, when somebody actively took it away from you. “Things like us…” He corrected, a weight on his shoulders that hadn’t been present until hearing the way Metzli spoke. They weren’t people, they were things. Monsters undeserving of affection. His frown only deepening as the conversation moved back to Metzli’s clan, he let out a frustrated huff of breath.  

“You still call him master... do you realise how fucked up that is?” He asked, unable to help himself. The dark mood settling over him was making it difficult to stay calm. His gentle tone wasn’t easy to maintain. “You’re going to take him on and you still call him master. How do you know you won’t falter when you see him, Metzli? How do you know he isn’t going to get inside your head again?” Feeling a spark of relief upon realising Macleod would be accompanying his friend, if any two people could take on a clan, it would be Macleod and Metzli, fighting together, side by side. “She’s definitely your best bet.” He begrudgingly agreed, making it clear he still wasn’t happy about the idea. “Yeah, you’ve done it before, but I doubt any of those vampires ever groomed you.” Glancing down at Yuca, who was carefully cleaning her paws on the floor at his feet, he couldn’t deny the affection he had for the animal. “I’ll take care of Yuca… obviously.” He muttered, looking back up to hold Metzli’s gaze as they leaned forward to pat him on the shoulder. Their words comforted him, but he knew he couldn’t count on them, so he shrugged them off, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “You can’t make that promise, and you shouldn’t. If you hadn’t made that ridiculous promise to Mina, Bex and I wouldn’t have gone out and none of this would have happened.” He tried to stay angry, tried to cling to his resentment, but a smile was soon tugging at his lips in spite of his best efforts. A few seconds passed before he finally gave into it. “I’m not telling you to fuck off and die, asshole. I want you to come back.” 

“I never said you were a monster, idiot.” Metzli eyed Milo carefully and with soft eyes. “I said monsters like me. I was a monster well before I became a vampire.” They looked away, as if Milo was too bright and they needed to avert their gaze to protect their sight. “You and I couldn’t be any more different despite what we are.” A darkness fogged over Metzli’s eyes and they furrowed their brow, showing brief signs of despair. Erasing the signs with whiskey, this sucked their teeth and begrudgingly sipped on their drink more. How many times did they have to explain? How many more people did they have to tell? It was becoming monotonous.  

Just as more words formed on their tongue, Milo struck them with the flick of his own tongue. Do you know how fucked up that is? Metzli indeed knew how fucked up it was. If it were Milo, if they had the capacity to empathize, they would’ve slaughtered Eloy immediately. Could someone, could multiple people have that ability for them? The answer was yes, but that wasn’t something they were letting themselves believe. Not when people leave so readily. “I don’t know that. I don’t. But I have to kill him. Myself. He took everything from me. I have to try. It has to be by my hands. And I need more time l—more time to get stronger and make a plan.” The unsteady momentum of their voice was prominent, but they hoped they could break from the coffin of terror they had been nailed shut in.  

“That’s surprising. Don’t know why you’d want me to come back. Figured you’d want Yuca all to yourself.” A slow, wry smile tugged onto their lips and they propped their elbows onto their knees as they leaned forward. “I’m not gonna make stupid promises anymore. If I make a promise, it’s because I mean it. I got shit to do. So, I promise I’m coming back.”

Milo continued to frown, tapping absentmindedly at the side of his glass as he thought on Metzli’s words. “I don’t believe that.” He said finally, mustering all of his conviction so that they would know he was being entirely serious. “Not for a second.” Waiting for them to look up at him so that he could pointedly hold their gaze, he couldn’t help but notice their expression. Just how lost they looked. He wasn’t used to seeing Metzli so vulnerable. He wondered whether he ever looked the same way to them. “We are different, but that doesn’t make me good or you bad… it only means that we’re- well, that we’re different.” Not the most eloquent of speakers, even sober, with the alcohol in his system he could only hope his muddled sentence was enough to convey his sentiment. He had done some pretty terrible things, and so had Metzli. But he also knew Metzli had done some wonderful things, things to help others, and make the world a better place. Whether they believed that or not, it was true.  

Not expecting such honesty in response to his comment, he fell silent, scared by his friend’s admission. If they did falter, they would die. They had to know that. Part of him wondered whether they really cared. They had spoken about death before in such a casual way. They seemed to hold no value for their own life, only ever the lives of others. “I know- I get that.” He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to validate any of what they were saying, but they deserved honesty too. It was the very least he could do for them, all things considered. “I just don’t want to lose you… and I know there are other people who don’t want to lose you. You’re not bad company, you know?” Offering Metzli a weak smile, unable to hide how worried he was about their mission, he patted his lap at the mention of Yuca, knowing the cat was eyeing him from where they were sitting in the centre of the room. It didn’t take long for the animal to approach, apparently forgiving him for disturbing her earlier. She clambered back up onto his legs, purring, and butting her head against his chest in a desperate bid for attention. “I do want her to myself.” He agreed, his smile growing, becoming stronger, and more genuine. “But something tells me she might try and eat Summer and Quinn so I guess she’ll just have to stay here with you.” Scratching Yuca behind the ears, it was comforting to be so accepted by an animal. There was something so pure about their affection. “I’m going to hold you to that promise…” He said, his voice quiet, and pensive. “I’ll be waiting for you when you come home.” 

Metzli’s eyes closed briefly, trying to take in Milo’s words in a way that wouldn’t break them completely. First Bex, then Milo, and now even Macleod showed them compassion and care in a way that they had never experienced. Never even hoped to experience. How did someone so vile and monstrous manage to have that happen? “You don’t have to believe that, Milo. But, I do.” They stood up suddenly, becoming acutely aware of the preparations they needed to make before they left town for a few days. Keys jingled from a key ring that hung by the front door, and Metzli sat down while simultaneously dropping the key into Milo’s lap. “You’re gonna need this,” They pressed their lips into a thin line and then finally rolled their eyes. Somehow, they had managed to settle back into a more relaxed deposition. “Well, you can’t have Yuca, and I’m definitely coming back. And don’t say cringey shit like that. Lose me? Come on, get real.” 

A hand pressed against Milo’s arm and shoved him playfully, making everything that much more light-hearted. Metzli didn’t like the seriousness that had taken over the conversation on their part. But they supposed that both vampires needed this. Needed to not feel so alone, and maybe find the answers to the internal questions that they didn’t dare say aloud. “Are you feeling better?” Their voice had a candor of annoyance, but that was only a show. Truthfully, it was more to find out whether or not they were getting better at their own version of compassion. To see if they were capable of making things better despite not being a whole person.  

“You can stay here tonight. But I gotta go check on my gallery and make some final arrangements. All my alcohol better be here when I get back. Actually—” Metzli rose once again from the couch and went to their liquor cabinet to lock it. “There. No you have to only survive on the rest of that whiskey if you stay here.” 

“Well, I know it isn’t true, and that’s what actually matters.” Milo countered easily. He wasn’t about to let Metzli get away with talking so negatively, especially not about themself. He knew if the roles were reversed, they would all but bite his head off in an attempt to get him to stop. Watching curiously as they jumped to their feet, it soon became clear what they were doing, and he hurried to catch the keys. It was strange, holding physical proof of Metzli’s plan. It made everything feel more real, and the anxiety in his chest seemed to triple in a matter of seconds. “I’m allowed to be cringe. Let me be cringe.” He muttered, trying to hide his concern. It wouldn’t benefit either of them, and he didn’t want to make things any harder than they needed to be. Despite his nerves, a laugh managed to escape him when Metzli playfully shoved him, and he grinned when Yuca glared up at him, clearly worried he was going to move again. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to her, gently running his fingers through her fur. “I’m not going anywhere.” She made a soft sound in response, and if he didn’t know better he would say she had understood his words.  

His smile faded at Metzli’s question as he was reminded of the reason for his visit, but it didn’t disappear. “You’re right.” He said, forcing himself to be open. It was difficult to admit but he didn’t want them to leave thinking he didn’t trust them with his feelings. “I am scared of myself. Sometimes I- I’m really fucking terrified.” He exhaled, tilting his head to stare at the ceiling, composing himself before speaking again. “But I have you, right? And you make everything… you make everything not so terrifying.” His grin firmly back in place at the mention of taking their alcohol, his expression fell when he realised they planned to lock their liquor cabinet. Apparently they were being serious. “No fair.” He pouted. “If you wanted me to leave, you could have just told me.” But he was teasing. He was done lying to himself, and done lying to Metzli, at least for the evening. And their company was a comfort, it made him feel almost normal, as though his problems weren’t miriad, and entirely overwhelming. “I guess I’ll be here when you get back then.” He offered them a smile, his eyes shining with open affection. “Unless you need any help with your gallery?” 

Milo’s words forced Metzli to look away and act like they were just calmly grabbing their keys. You make everything not so terrifying. Being a source of comfort never seemed possible, and it felt good to finally be doing something right for a change. Pretending to sift through some papers for just a few seconds longer, they closed their eyes tightly and composed themselves enough to appear` normal. “I guess you do have me. For now. If you get too clingy, though, I’m gone.” Tone was teasing and obviously playful. Taking a few strides to the back of the couch, they tousled Milo’s hair and chuckled lightly.  

“You won’t need to come again until Saturday night, so just let yourself out before I get home in the morning. Unless you wanna see some freaky shit.”  

Metzli walked to the door and grabbed a few more things before opening it and pausing before stepping out. “Thanks for helping me out. And...I’m glad I was able to help a little bit. I’ll see you soon, okay? Try not to wreck my apartment.” The door closed slowly and their steps receded down the hallway. The connections they were making were growing in number. And while it was only a handful, it was far more than Metzli had ever dreamed of having. It scared them, having this much to lose with their former master so close to taking everything away. But they thought maybe that’s what made it worth fighting for. They just had to fear failure, and nothing else. 

[3starsquinn]

Let’s Get Down to Business || Alain & Orion

Timing: Current

Parties: Alain ( @carbrakes-and-stakes ) & Rio

Content Warning: Abuse mentions

Summary: Rio is desperate for some answers and Alain is willing to provide. Until they get interrupted. Rude.

Orion didn’t know what he was about to walk into. When he messaged Alain, it had been in a more emotionally fragile state than he had cared to admit. There had been so much going on this week. Between the love potion and his run in with Athena. But even with all of that drama, he still couldn’t get that troll out of his head. Couldn’t stop thinking about how Rio had stopped that troll from ever doing anything again. He had taken that life. Justified or not, Rio couldn’t shake the guilt. And he needed to talk to someone that understood what that felt like. 

When Orion found Alain, he was thankful that the man was alone and not currently tousling with a vampire. He offered a small wave as soon as the two spotted each other and continued his sulk across the abandoned pilot to close the gap between them. “Hey” he added once he had finally joined up with him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.” That was true. In his rush of emotions, maybe Rio had an idea what he wanted to say in the back of his mind as he was furiously typing the message out to him. But standing here with Alain face to face, any semblance of a clear thought Rio once had all but washed from his mind. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Alain was dusting his sword clean when he heard Orion approach. Lost in his thoughts, he had not been paying much attention to his surroundings, figuring that if undead rose, he would feel them before he could see them anyway. He was not sure what it was Orion wanted, but if he had agreed to meet him here, in the middle of the night, it had to be important. Sitting on the front steps of a now clean mausoleum, the hunter watched Orion approach and waved back. “Hey,” he replied, scooting to the side so that the kid could sit down too, if he wanted.

The kid looked completely lost, however, and Alain, since he had no idea what this meeting was about, found himself with both his eyebrows raised, puzzled. “That’s okay,” Orion spoke again and he could feel his heart sink in his chest. How was he supposed to help someone who felt lost when he himself had no idea where he was headed either? “Sit down. Tell me what happened, I’m sure you’ll remember why you’re here.”

Orion followed Alain’s instructions, taking a seat next to him. He sat quietly for a long moment, still trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say or how he wanted to say it. Why was this so hard? If there was anybody that should know how Rio felt it was a hunter that showed some sense of apprehension for the job too. Rio couldn’t think of Alain without thinking of the first conversation they had ever had in his garage. Maybe Alain was still doing the job, maybe he even thought it was necessary. But there was something about him that made Rio think that he sometimes wondered what could have been. “I don’t know how you do it.” Because of course Rio knew why he was here. He just didn’t know why he had to do this right now, “I got attacked in the woods a few weeks ago. There were these trolls and they tried to kill Kaden and I. And it was going to kill me and I-” He pulled his knees up on the step with him and hugged them, “I killed it. And I can’t stop thinking about it. How do you train yourself to take a life?”

Alain remained quiet the whole time Orion was speaking. He put down the sword, the rag, and crossing his arms, he leaned back against the step behind to listen to the boy. “Kaden must have already told you that it was either you or him,” it felt like this was the kind of justification most hunters gave to justify many things, him included, but it was a justification that truly made sense when speaking of creatures that  behaved like wild animals. “A normal person wouldn’t have made it out alive, maybe you saved a bunch of people,” and maybe a bunch of others died before Orion took care of that beast. He could have said this too, but he felt like it would not really cheer him up. 

Then came the question of How. “You and I were both trained since we were in what.. 1st grade? Earlier?” But this was not what made you a killer. You were trained, sure, but a killer. Accidents aside, killers had a purpose, something to fulfil, and in hunters’ case, it was an idea : the sense of duty. “You don’t train, you are told to, and usually, it begins by killing things that look nothing like people,” in his case, it had been spawns. The human looking vampires came later, once spawns had become a habit, some sort of routine. “Most people assume that I like doing this,” it was not entirely false, otherwise, Alain wouldn’t be here, but it was his sense of duty that always brought him back here, not his hatred for vampires. 

Orion nodded. “He did.” And he had, along with anyone else that heard about what happened. It was an easy defense, one that should have helped Rio feel better. Logically, he knew it was true. It had been self defense. The troll fully intended on killing Rio and then Kaden if nothing had been done. The troll had said it themselves. But Rio still couldn’t help but think that the reasoning left a sour taste in his mouth. Like something had been missing. “It’s just- I replay it over and over again in my head. I could have done something differently, right? Why were they violent to us in the first place? Did they know what we were?” Did they deserve it? Rio almost asked the question but decided against it, “What if I could have said something differently. Or anything. Why did it have to end that way?” He wiped at his eyes. He had done so much crying recently he was surprised he had any tears left. But it was just as embarrassing now as it always was. He wished he could switch it all off. Although, Rio hadn’t considered Alain’s second point. If the trolls were so quick to kill Kaden and Rio, would other people fall victim to them just as quickly? Ones that wouldn’t survive being thrown against a tree or crushed under the grip of a rocky giant? “I don’t know. Maybe. That’s why I hate this. I can’t even see the full picture. How am I supposed to decide something as important as taking a life when I can’t even see every angle?” Orion was a patient person. He never liked acting before thinking through every scenario his mind would allow him. It was why Athena would complain whenever the two played chess. He always took too long to move, examining all of his options before finally pushing a piece forward. 

“Yeah. I mean, Not sure if mine could be considered training or not.” Orion had been rebelling in his own way since childhood. Maybe he wasn’t as loud or as confrontational as Athena could be, but he had learned his own tricks to annoy his parents. And he could do it without ever raising a fist or even speaking. Alain was right. From a young age, the two were first introduced to the more monstrous side. Fed stories that would have made any normal kid cower beneath their sheets. It wasn’t until the two got older that they slowly started to get introduced to the more human side of their victims. “I don’t think you like doing this.” Rio offered. He wished he knew for sure. But as it was, he didn’t know much about Alain’s hunting habits at all. Besides that he was resigned to the same sense of duty that most hunters seemed to be. “I think you do it when you feel like you have to. But that doesn’t mean you get any joy from it.” Maybe Rio was wrong. Off base. He hoped that he wasn’t. “My sister killed a Fae right in front of me the other day,” Rio began. “I don’t know what it was. To me, it just looked like a cat. I think she did it to get under my skin. How could someone do something like that? She likes it. It scares me.” 

“I don’t know Orion,” Alain turned his head to look at him. With a heavy breath, he reached out to put his hand on the boy’s opposite shoulder, so that he would look at him, and also know at the same time that it was okay if he wanted to cry. “No one can see the full picture,” he assured him. God knew that Alain had tried, but no matter how much planning any hunter did, nothing usually went exactly as planned. Feral beasts were too unpredictable. Usually the human looking ones were a lot easier, or at least that’s how it felt to him. “I try to think of the bigger picture instead,” he explained, always looking him in the eyes. “It’s like I said, you can’t know what would have happened if someone else had ran into that troll,” and he highly doubted that those made a difference between hunters and regular folks. “This is what I always think of, and it sometimes kept me up at night,” he frowned. “What if I didn’t get them all? What if one got away and attacked someone? Someone’s mom, a child, an elder?” This was why he did this at least one out of two nights. Sometimes, he could go back home having not seen one single vampire, and on nights like that one, get rid of an entire nest of them. 

“I must agree with you on that one, you’re the most lanky hunter I’ve ever seen,” laughing under his breath, Alain let go of his shoulder and took out his coffee thermos, pouring himself a cup. “I’m glad that you think that,” he smiled a moment before he took a long sip of the hot beverage. “Joy comes from knowing you got people rid of something that wouldn’t have hesitated to hurt them, feed on them, turn them, or kill them,” with vampires, you never knew. Some had their own little army of spawns, which they created by biting party goers or people walking back home after their night shift, and God did it feed his hatred for them. “What did she think she would achieve by that? I mean, it was most certainly not a cat, but clearly that thing did not attack first,” he cleared his throat. His lack of knowledge on fae was showing, but clearly, Athena had fucked up here. “I’m sorry. You know,” he paused, sighing. “You always will have a choice, but when it comes to things you cannot reason with, I’d say just do your job. It’s not easy. I know I wasn’t fond of it either then, but you get used to it. And that does not mean you’ll suddenly want to kill all the beasts you see.” Another sigh. “This is what I would do, if I were you. Not hunt, but rather get rid of threats when you happen to cross paths with one.”

No one can see the full picture. So how come anybody killed? Why did people take a life when they can’t see the full extent of how it will affect things? Orion winced when Alain’s hand grabbed onto his shoulder. Even living around friends that did the same thing, Rio still wasn't used to the nonviolent physical touch. Still cowered away from it. But knowing that this had not been meant as an attack, Rio settled into it, relaxing beneath it and eventually looking up at Alain. This time, when the tears streamed down his face he didn’t immediately wipe them away. “The bigger picture” Rio nodded to himself. He didn’t know if he believed it, but he at least understood the idea behind it. Kaden and Rio left the rest of the trolls. Sure, they had sworn their vengeance on the two of them. But were other people going to be in danger because of the actions of the two of them? The thought made him sick to his stomach. “I don’t want anything to get hurt because of me. Human or otherwise. I’m not cut out for this life, Alain. I never have been.”

Despite the serious tone the two had for the night, Orion appreciated the break for humor and he found himself chuckling through the tears and grinning. “Ha ha. Very funny.” Rio crossed his arms to feign pouting. As if being called small or lanky was something new that truly offended him. “That makes sense. I like helping people. All people.” Supernatural people included. At least Alain seemed just as taken aback by Athena’s actions as Rio had been. “I don’t know. I can’t tell if she’s just that brainwashed by my parents. Or if she genuinely wanted to hurt me. She’s mad at me. Angry that I left the house. I think she wanted me to feel her pain.” It was just a guess, but he was pretty positive he was close. “I like that idea. I just… I don’t know how to do it. I don’t want to feel like I’ve felt these past few weeks. I can’t stop thinking about that troll. I hate it.”

“I know, you have told me this before,” Alain wasn’t sure what to say to this except that few were cut for this, and that most hunters did this because they felt that  they had to. Was this going to help Rio with his moral dilemma? Probably not. This was all confusing. Alain wished he had the answers, but clearly, it was not the case. Although over the years, he did gain some wisdom and the decisions he made now weren’t the ones he made back when he was a teenager or a young adult. 

“Thank you,” with a smirk, he raised his cup of coffee as if to toast on this, and took another gulp. “I know, you are a good person, pure of heart. Those are rare,” and Alain genuinely believed that him not being a hunting hunter was actually a big loss for the rest of them. Hunters could use someone like Orion, who was willing to see what it’s like to be on the other end of the weapon. It was naive to think all creatures deserved his kindness however, and Alain really wanted Orion to finally accept that some things didn’t have many goals in life other than to sleep, eat humans, and sleep again. “I don’t know. I think you should speak to her, maybe not in person, but… see what she has to say about this. I doubt her explanations can excuse what she did, because that was cruel to you, but at least you’ll know why,” having cut all connection, all contact with both his sisters, Alain sometimes had regrets, he wondered if Orion would follow that path. Even though they were different, he could see some similarities here and there. “You know how to do it, you just don’t want to do it,” tossing the last drops of coffee in his cup, he screwed it back onto the thermos. “It’ll pass. This much I can actually promise you. And I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he breathed through his nose, amused. “I’ll show you my notebooks, if you want. So you can see all the things I’ve seen,” maybe it would help him picture what hunting was really like when you did it for others. 

People told Orion that a lot. That he was a good person. That he was innocent. Rio didn’t feel pure of heart. He felt complicit to the evil things that his family did. He felt like a murderer. Most of the time, he felt like a fraud. Someone that was desperately trying to do good deeds to make up for the bad he had been a part of. “I know you’re right, but I really don’t want to” Rio groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to her. But Alain was right, obviously. Even if it meant learning the truth and cutting the ties. He needed to know. Eventually. For now, he needed the space. Rio wasn’t sure he wanted to ever learn how to do it. Or get over these feelings of guilt. As soon as he did, would he turn into the exact monster that his parents had spent their lives trying to create? But regardless, Alain had the best intentions. He truly wanted what was best for Rio. That was something he couldn’t say about the adult figures in his life growing up. “Thank you. Seriously. I don’t know who else to talk to about this stuff. I-“ he perked up at the idea of reading Alain’s notebooks, “Really? Like really really? That’d be so cool. Let’s do it.”

Before Orion had the chance to move, a sound off in the trees beyond the steps caught Rio’s attention. His body stiffened immediately, freezing in place as Rio tried to pick up on any other sounds with his hearing. When he heard another cracking sound off in the woods, Rio jumped into his feet. “Something’s in the woods.” He stared at the trees. It was dark, but Rio’s vision didn’t mind the darkness. He stood  until he saw a flash through the trees and he jumped back, almost tripping into Alain. It wasn’t until the first thing broke through the clearing of the woods that Rio could finally make out what it was. “It’s a spawn.” 

“..” Alain couldn’t exactly project his own regrets on Orion, and if the young man prefered not to speak to his sister, Alain was not going to argue with that. He had given him his advice and now, it was up to Orion to either follow it or not. The boy seemed a lot more excited by the idea to have a look at the older hunter’s notebooks. He heard that he thanked him, but his attention went toward something else. Something was nearby, he could feel it. His hand reached out to grab the sword on the ground. 

Orion had been just as quick to notice, and that did not go unnoticed. Even if the boy wanted to deny his hunter heritage, he would never be able to get rid of his instincts. “The woods, huh?” Obviously, he was hearing things Alain couldn’t, and Alain was glad he could count on his cat like vision to catch a glimpse of whatever was lurking in the woods. Damn fucking spawns. “It is a spawn, or well… spawns. They aren’t lonely creatures, unfortunately,” Orion had a few options. Either help Alain with those, or watch the hunter get rid of all these foul beasts. “Time to choose if you want to help or not. Look into my bag, you’ll find weapons,” he motioned toward the mausoleum, where he had left his things. 

If the number of spawns was not critical, help was never negligeable, and it felt like a good occasion for Orion to see that not all things deserved to live, and that sometimes, saving them was putting them to rest. 

Time to choose if you want to help or not. Orion had not wanted to have to make a choice that quickly. He eyed the bag that Alain had pointed towards. “Oh god, oh god, oh god” Rio scurried up the steps and towards the bag. The swords, daggers and stakes were all sharp to the touch, and dangerous in the hands of someone like Rio. He was a liability, more likely to end up stabbing himself than being any help against spawns. He chose the least dangerous weapon he could find, an average wooden stake, and hopped back down the steps, stopping just feet behind Alain. 

He was the vampire expert, so of course he had been right when he said that they traveled together. Orion should have picked up on it. That the noises out in the woods were created by multiple creatures, not just one. Now, a few jumped back and forth between the trees while others were already in the clearing and heading towards the two of them. Rio didn’t deal with vampires. Not that he dealt with much of anything, but vampires and the undead were his lousiest subjects. Rio studied them, maybe seven or eight total but it was hard to keep track from the way that bounced around, weaving between each other. Rio couldn’t move. His knees were shaking and threatening to give out completely. He was just going to slow Alain down. Risk him getting hurt trying to protect him. This was all a big mistake. “I don’t- Don’t get hurt protecting me, please.”

“It’s fine,” Alain did not need someone panicking in his back, and he would not wait for him to get his shit together either. The first spawn spotted by Orion reduced to dust, the hunter moved toward the second, keeping them from approaching the boy. “Orion, you have to trust that you can do it. I wouldn’t ask you this if I didn’t think you could do it,” technically, he had no idea if Orion could do it, but one thing was sure, if he told him that he couldn’t, Orion would never try and that would be a damn shame. Obviously, he would never be an excellent hunter, but if he could help keep humans safe at his own scale, it would be enough. 

“Look around, don’t let them get in your back,” Alain trusted that if Orion listened to simple advice like that, he would be okay tonight. And if he wasn’t completely repulsed by all of this, maybe the hunter could actually offer to train him, eventually. 

“Orion, I’m going to be fine either way,” Alain did not want to force him to do anything, but rather push him to make a decision. In the end, hesitating was what could get you killed, and maybe this would be what he would have to first teach Orion. 

A spawn lunging for the hunter’s throat, Alain held up his sword, shoving it through its body. Falling to the ground, he pushed the spawn off of him, but before he could get up, another one was coming for him. Fuck. 

Alain wasn’t forcing this on Orion. There was a choice to be made. One that Rio would have to make for himself. It was so radically different from anything that Rio had been used to growing up that he felt a bit dizzy from the freedom. His parents never acted like there was a choice. In the woods… well maybe Kaden and everyone else had been right. Maybe there really hadn’t been a choice that night. That no matter what he did or said, those trolls were going to attack the two of them and Rio’s only choices were to fight back or get killed. Tonight, Alain was giving him an out. That freedom was liberating, but also crippling. Because now Rio actually had to choose.

Orion was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to do it. He was convinced that he would just be a distraction, and when the moment came he would hesitate and not be able to make the kill. Even if these things were clearly not human. They didn’t have the thoughts or feelings that people did. They truly were just creatures led by bloodlust and instinct. Rio felt his grip on the stake loosen, his resolution wavering. A spawn lunged at Alain and the two tumbled on the ground. Rio twitched but didn’t move. Seconds later, a sword went through the creature and Alain shoved it off of him. Rio breathed with relief but his grip tightened when another one came up fast, running for Alain who hadn’t yet gotten back to his feet. “Alain!” this time, Rio ran without thinking. He headed straight for Alain, close enough that the spawn was ready to attack before Rio dived into him.

Orion and the creature rolled once hitting the ground, both fighting for the upper hand. Unsurprisingly, it was the spawn that ended up on top. It clawed at him, scratching and tearing at his hoodie and catching on his skin more than once. It’s fangs were bared and aiming for Rio, Rio using all of his strength to keep the thing away from him. Rio’s legs flailed out from under the creature, trying to get some footing to get the upper hand. He had been training with Adam. He should be able to do this. But he was losing the battle against this spawn. Finally, he pulled a leg free, lifting it around to wrap around the spawn and pull it to the side and off of him. He pressed down, using his leg to pin the spawn and fumbled for the stake he had dropped in the struggle. With all the chaos, Rio didn’t have time to think about that choice he was so enamored with earlier. He swung the stake around and plunged it into the creature, dust exploding from it almost immediately. And suddenly the struggle was gone. Rio sat there on the ground and breathed heavily. He dropped the stake and stared at the pile of dust. Though he didn’t have much time to dwell on what he had just done, considering another spawn tackled him from behind. 

Alain had just started to accept that Orion had taken his decision, that he would not come and help him, when the exact opposite happened. While he had a few things to say on the boy’s technique, now was probably not a good time. Besides, spawns were not the kind to wait politely for their turn to jump at hunters’ throats. It was hard to keep an eye on Orion and at the same time take care of them. Clearly, this short moment had been enough for the experimented hunter to have exactly what he had warned Orion about, happen to him. 

The claws dug deep in Alain’s shoulder, in his side, and he had to drop his weapon to grab the vampire with both his hands, and throw it to the ground. A stake to the heart later, the hunter was glancing once again at Orion. It seemed like the boy had taken his decision and had thoughts about it, but now was not exactly the time for hesitation. And so Alain saw the spawn rushing toward the young boy. Ineluctable. 

“Orion,” Alain warned, too late. Now getting rid of something that had the higher ground was a whole different kind of job, and with yet another spawn coming for him, Alain hoped Orion would have the will, the strength to get rid of it, in the meanwhile, the hunter would try to get rid of the few spawns left, as he wasn’t sure a 3rd spawn was something Orion could survive tonight.

Orion’s body was pressed against the ground, the spawn on top of him and it’s claws digging into his back. The pain was sharp, the panic even stronger since he couldn’t move. He wiggled against the creature’s weight but only managed to crawl out slightly before the claws dug in further. He cried out a bit at that one, the sudden increase in pain taking him by surprise. Rio could hear the creature’s snarls, saliva dripping from its mouth and down on the back of Rio’s head, dripping down his neck. He was close, probably about to bite. Purely on instinct, Rio threw his left elbow back, connecting with the creature’s face and causing it to screech in defiance. It perked up, it’s hold on Rio loosening just enough that Rio could shove himself out from under the creature to break free. The claws had not completely dislodged, and scraped across his back on the way out, tearing at his clothes and ripping at his skin. 

The first thing Orion did once he got back to his feet was find Alain. He was fighting off more Spawn, still going strong. He must have taken down so many already while Rio had barely managed to stab one. And now, Rio was left weaponless against the current spawn. He could see the stake, abandoned across the field. The spawn blocked Rio’s path. Reaching it would be next to impossible, especially with the damage the creature had already done to Rio. He had three options here, run for Alain and hope that he could save the day. Try to fake out the spawn and get to his stake. And with the creature stirring and looking particularly unhappy, Rio didn’t have much time left. He went with option three, darting off in the opposite direction towards the tree line of the woods. The spawn was fast, hot on Rio’s trail and swiping out towards him. The claw caught on Rio’s leg at one point, almost knocking Rio over. Instead, his palms caught against the grass and he pushed himself back into his run. He all but collided with the tree when he finally got to the woods. He dug his fingers into it, finding a weak spot and ripping off a section of the bark. It wasn’t much, but it was still wood. 

There was something utterly terrifying about not knowing how Orion was doing. All the slayer had to know what was happening, is sounds. He heard the boy cry, then the creature protest. There was no way of knowing what happened. The spawns rushing at him made it impossible for  him to check on the boy, and Alain was starting to regret putting him in this situation. Maybe he should have locked him up in the mausoleum instead.

Each cloud of dust felt like counting down to when he’d be able to check on Orion. 3, 2, 1 spawn left. Orion’s spawn. Alain was not the kind to panic, but he couldn’t put the feeling in his chest on anything other than this. And so, the few seconds during which he searched for the boy and the spawn stretched into eternity to him. “Fuck.”

Maybe it would have been better to let him handle the spawn on his own, but considering what he had heard just seconds ago, he was not going to take a chance, and so he rushed to the woods, catching up with the pair. “Oh putain,” grabbing the beast from the back, the slayer threw it to the ground. His stake found the heart and they were all gone. But their trouble? Alain was mostly fine, safe for a few scratches, but Orion? 

Carefully, because he’d seen how he had reacted to the hand on his shoulder earlier, the hunter approached the young man. “Let me have a look, please,” the claws had torn both fabric and flesh, exposing skin, scarred skin. How? Orion did not … fight. “How did you… When?” They looked quite old, and Alain was growing confused, and horrified. 

Orion hadn’t noticed that he had been shaking until Alain crept behind the creature and took it down, staking it and finally leaving the open field empty aside from the two hunters. Suddenly, Rio couldn’t hold onto the piece of tree bark any longer. It slipped through his trembling fingers, cracking into smaller pieces against the ground. Rio followed soon after, resting against the tree next to him and sliding down it until he was resting on his knees. The pain from his injuries were nothing more than a dull pain in the back of his brain. Everything felt numbed, a humming taking the forefront of Rio’s attention as he tried to process the fear. Those spawns had been terrifying. He had seen them in pictures, read about them on multiple occasions. He couldn’t imagine being attacked by one of those with no knowledge of the supernatural. The idea was nightmare inducing. Even with the experience Rio had grown up with, he still wasn’t sure he’d sleep much tonight.

Orion was vaguely aware that Alain had started to creep closer towards him, muttering a French curse word. Rio stopped himself from calling out the language, just as he had done with Kaden once before. Rio twitched as he got closer. Because he knew what was visible, what was coming. The injuries from today had been rough, but surface level. A quick cleanse and bandaging session and they would be healed in a few days. But Alain didn’t mean those injuries. The spawn’s claws had done more than tear at his skin. They had stripped away the only defense Rio had. Now, he had no choice but to sit here, completely exposed. “It’s nothing....” Rio tried, feeling his body slump even further in defeat. His body was still shaking, his voice joining in on the instability. “It’s from training and stuff. They’re all old anyways.”

Having knelt down to get on his level, Alain fell silent watching Orion. He tried to think, to think and think again, but he could not think of one thing to tell Orion that could have solved anything. Sitting on the dry leaves, the hunter was not sure whether to avoid or search for the other hunter’s eyes. He felt bad for making him help, for asking this of him when he knew so little about his past, his experiences. It was time for Alain to take a decision however, his turn. 

“I’m so sorry,” he spoke softly. 

His heart had sunk in his chest. It seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Maybe it would bury so deep that the hunter would finally stop feeling, who knew? Now did Alain want to stop feeling? Sure it would have been easier, but feelings were what made him human, not a monster. The answer was easily found. “Orion, you told me that you had found ways to skip training,” from the way he fought, you could tell that this had not been a lie. That thing about his injuries, however, felt like bullshit. “Now skip the bullshit. What happened.” 

If Orion wanted to hear terrible stories from long ago, Alain would be happy to provide, but right now, he was worried for the young hunter, and he was not going to let him get back to wherever his home was like that. “You know what, you can tell me this once you’re all patched up,” there was no need to talk about this in the middle of a cemetery. It wouldn’t be long before the wind would start to carry ashes their way. “You can get up, kid?” 

More people had learned about the scars than Orion had ever wanted. Some by accident, some on purpose. Orion hated seeing their initial reactions. The initial confusing followed by the horrified understanding. The pity. Rio had spent so much of his life in fear of people seeing them. “I couldn’t always skip the trainings” Rio shrugged. That was the core of the scars, wasn’t it? Battle wounds from the trainings his parents had forced him and his sister to endure. Punishments if he didn’t participate. In some ways, skipping the trainings proved to be more harmful than brawling with his twin in the first place.

Alain didn’t force the story out of him. At least not yet. His priority seemed to be the fresh wounds on Orion’s skin. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” Rio wasn’t, but physically he could move. On shaky legs, Rio used the tree to pull him back to his feet, and fell slightly behind Alain as the two walked. He fiddled with the torn sleeves of his hoodie absentmindedly, distracting himself from the pain in his calf and the pit in his stomach. “Do you have an extra shirt I could borrow?” Rio asked, acknowledging that both the hoodie and shirt he had on underneath would be too damaged and blood stained to salvage. At this point, Rio supposed that it didn’t matter if Alain only had a short sleeve to offer. He had already seen the scars. Was there anything left to hide? 

“You got all of those only from training?” Alain had trained as a child, but he did not recall having this many scars then. Even after years and years of hunting, he probably did not have as many. The thought made his blood curdle. His parents might have been the way they were, as far as possible from loving, or caring, they at least understood that you did not learn anything through pain and suffering. Obviously, they would have been happy if Alain had ever decided to drop out of hunting, but the hunter’s desire to fit in had always been strong, and to this day, he had yet to find people who made him feel like he belonged. Nic and Kaden did that, in a way, Evelyn did too, in another, and in yet another way, Orion made him feel less lonely, even though their struggle was different. And so, the tone he had used could  only tell one thing : he did not believe that training could do that. Not the kind of training he had, at least. 

“I’ll give you mine,” it would probably be a lot too large for the boy, but that did not matter much right now. The hunter in his undershirt, handed the plaid shirt to Orion and went to gather his things, kicking at a pile of ash on his way to the mausoleum. Fucking pest. “I’ll get you home, okay? Give you that reading I promised you earlier, and if you want to talk about this, we can talk about this. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Just know that I can help.”

Orion shrugged at Alain’s question. How else was he supposed to answer that? They both knew the answer. At least, Rio was fairly certain that Alain knew what the both of them were avoiding saying. He grabbed the shirt that Alain shrugged off and handed to him. “Thank you.” Rio held onto the flannel for dear life, using it as an anchor to keep himself from going into full panic mode. “I’ll uh- I don’t want to get blood all over it. So maybe I should like, wait until I can get the wounds washed off.” He didn’t want to ruin Alain’s flannel. From what Rio could tell, he seemed to really like his flannels.

“Seriously? I can still read your books?” Even with the pain Orion was in and the panic he felt, Rio couldn’t help but perk up at the thought of getting a look at Alain’s notes. Vampires weren’t exactly Rio’s specialty, and what he did know about them he wasn’t sure applied to all different types. Learning about the differences would help him decide. “I- Thanks for helping me. I don’t mind talking about it.”

Alain looked over at Orion and shook his head. “I am very well versed in getting blood from clothes. That should be part of hunter training,” he remarked, smiling at the kid a little.  There was no need to be grim and sad the whole way back to his place. “Now you put that shirt on and you stop being silly. I’m not afraid to use elbow grease to get stains out,” he explained.

Orion’s reaction to being offered books to read drew a laugh out of the hunter. “That was both incredibly endearing and scary,” Alain admitted. That kid was really committed to gathering knowledge, much like Alain was with fulfilling his duty. “Alright, then why don’t you tell me what you want to tell me.”

[project-ohagi]

Hayato Yamagata x Reader - Soulmate AU {Haikyuu!!}

[Soulmate AU: Wherein you have the first words your soulmate ever speak to you, written on your wrist].

Trigger Warning: Self-Harm.

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

Although the day was long, the evening seemed longer - significantly so.

Volleyball practice had ended a while earlier, yet here he was, remaining in the building to run some errands. The dormitories weren't far, so it wasn't as if actually minded. Glancing down at his wrist, a solemn sigh passed his lips. Gentle fingers traced the inscription: the first words his soulmate would ever orate to him, the words fated to spark an inevitable romance, which would blossom and blossom. Despite currently being unfamiliar with his predestined partner, his heart soared at the very thought of them. He knew, instinctively, that no matter their appearance, to him, they would present the most beautiful divinity.

Their aura would be unmatched in compassion towards himself and others - this was Hayato's sole expectation. Besides that, he couldn't care less. His heart thundered with the determination to shower them the utmost love and affection. He would treat them as a god, a goddess, a mixture of the two, or some genderless celestial. Whatever their manifestation, he would love them, both passionately and unconditionally.

However, the phrase engraved into his wrist was quite unsettling.

'No, please don't touch that!'

Without context, it sent insuppressible shivers all the way down his spine. Obviously, worry consumed him - it always did. He couldn't comprehend the truth of the message. Yet...an ache tugged so violently at his heartstrings. Those words bled pain, desperation. If they, his future, needed help in any way, then with his fiercest conviction, he wished to bestow it upon them. He wanted to find them, to cradle their frame tightly, close to his chest, so that his raging heartbeat could echo in their ears, acting as the proof of his love. He desired nothing more than this, and to witness the majesty of their smile. It made him giddy, like a young child arresting its parents' attention.

...Until his mind played back the phrase, droning on in miserable notes, as an amalgamation of all the world's depressing songs.

His yearning for the information of what agonised you so greatly was causing slight mishaps in his daily life. You had yet to physically enter the scrapbook of his life, but he could almost feel your energy...fragments of your pain. It was suffocating, sometimes. But still, he didn't completely understand. Meeting you, at this point, was absolutely imperative; he figured that it could potentially be the difference between life and death. Another abysmal thought began to plague his already-throbbing mind - what could you be referring to? What would cause such wretched words to tumble from your lips, and would they be in retaliation to a forceful act on his end? He really hoped that wasn't so. If he traumatised you to the extent at which your very vocals trembled, then, soulmate or no, surely your heart wouldn't ever allow itself to love him.

That imagining was a cursed reel, and he vowed never to replay it. Besides, there couldn't have been any point to worrying so tirelessly, when you were still yet-to-be-discovered. Hayato could hazard a guess that, at the least, you weren't in his class, and, perhaps some mystical connection might have compelled you towards each other, if you ever passed in the halls. Therefore, he decided that either you simply didn't occupy a space in the third year, or you didn't attend Shiratorizawa, period.

Although his brain favoured the latter, his heart pounded for the former, since it would obviously make finding you so much easier. Hayato had been raised to place faith in his gut instinct, and right now, his gut seemed to produce two words: foreign and danger. He was unsure whether this meant that you were of a different lineage, or that you attended another school, and consequently would be alien to him.

But, danger...

...There was no doubt - you were in a precarious situation, or on the losing side of a violent, bloody battle. He prayed for your eternal safety, day in and day out. You would forever arrest his unconditional support, no matter the circumstance.

Shaking off these depressing pictures was difficult, but necessary, because torturing himself over them during your omission from his life, would only affect his health and grades on a greater scale. Hayato trudged around the building, finding the papers and other things he needed, and prepared to head back to his dormitory. So much of his mental energy had been wiped out already, and he was exhausted. Lying down on his lovely, soft bed sounded blissful.

Instead, mere moments after falling, he registered that what he was kneeling atop wasn't a bed, but in fact...a girl?

Embarrassment permeated his very core. He never achieved much with women, mainly due to his sharp glares (yes, the unintentional ones - perhaps he had the masculine equivalent of resting bitch face), but this was just...oh my lord, why? He refrained from punching himself, only since terror had gripped your features, and he didn't wish to disturb you any further. He scrambled to his feet, apologising profusely, and reaching out a hand, to help you up. Those almost-feral, chocolate eyes ghosted over you, and in an instant, he was transfixed. You adorned the regular, Shiratorizawa uniform, but it appeared to be slightly larger than you needed. Your sleeves were very long, he noted, and he couldn't see your wrists at all. Luscious, (h/c) locks swept across your face, partially shielding your (e/c) orbs from view.

"Eh...are you alright? Can you stand?" His genuine concern captivated you, but you were panicked, tears welling up amongst the glittering constellations.

When you failed to respond, he started rubbing his neck, in an effort to soothe his nerves. This was a situation unlike any other (he was often a lot more careful of his surroundings), but his aid seemed to offend you, for some reason, so what could he actually do? The waterfall, which dripped from your eyes, was something he desired to wipe away. He detested this - watching you suffer in relative silence. Why weren't you letting him help? Couldn't you speak? Was something about his actions, his words, so wrong? After a minute or two of deliberation, he decided to perch himself on the floor, in front of you.

"Do you need somebody to talk to? Should I go and find a teacher?"

The words remained lodged in your throat, slowly suffocating you.

You squirmed uncomfortably, every movement revealing slightly more skin, although you didn't appear to notice. Hayato's eyes travelled to your wrists, now exposed, and his blood ran cold. His compassionate nature kicked into overdrive, and he immediately locked on to your arm. Meek sounds of discomfort rolled off your tongue, as the knife-inflicted wounds seared with pain. He was speechless, left gawking at your arms, specifically the one he had grabbed. Despite his concern, he proceeded to squeeze your wrist (albeit, absentmindedly - he was far too focused on the actual cuts). His fingers moved closer to them, as his mind scrambled desperately for any trace of logic.

Fear widened your eyes, causing you to whisper-yell, "No, please don't touch that!"

Hayato's mind ceased its constant rotations.

His eyes graced your own, partly in astonishment, partly in worry. He remembered all his previous musings with great sobriety - he was right to be concerned for your safety. Although, it hadn't ever truly crossed his thoughts, that you could have been your own arch-nemesis. That was just...it was awful, the fact that you felt such hopelessness, to rely upon a knife to release the agony. The deadly war in which you were engaged...it was against yourself, and that knowledge hurt immensely. He wished to place gentle kisses along all those beautiful, yet disheartening battle scars.

They were beautiful, he affirmed, because they were a part of you. They had been carved on to your flesh, and in spite of their secrecy, you owned them. With enough time and care, they could be removed, but they were a testament to your survival. You had lived, through everything which tried to kill you, and that made you strong - stronger than him, by far.

With determination, he maintained the eye-contact.

"You can talk to me, about anything. I'm not going to judge you. Everyone feels pain - people just cope differently."

"You - You're not disgusted? Scared?" Your voice quivered, emotions spilling to the surface.

"No, of course not. Those scars are yours, and you're beautiful. I'm not scared of them - I love them, like I love you."

This boy, he was honestly too sweet. Someone of your position, your weak constitution, didn't deserve he who behaved so admirably. He possessed a strength with which you could never compete. He was everything you had ever wished for in life. But...you couldn't keep him, and he couldn't keep you.

Not in this lifetime.

Before the illusion vanished, before it was too late and regret began to fester, you smiled, as brightly as possible. You wanted to leave him with something positive, if only for a mere second. Hayato mirrored your expression, ears burning crimson with the inclusion of your little "I love you too.". A question danced on the tip of his tongue, but he was never allowed to pose it.

"Hey, Hayato! What're you doing over here?" Said male turned, meeting the perplexed gaze of a certain, infamous red-head.

"Tendou?" He muttered, equally as confused. "I'm helping someone I bumped into."

A strange look came upon the boy's face.

"Well, did she run away before I got here? I didn't see anyone!"

The chocolate-orbed one paused, asking, "No...she's right her-"

Although, when he tried to glimpse your divinity once more, he found nothing but an empty spot. There was no indication that you had ever been in the general area, but he hadn't noticed you leave. Tendou surely would have seen you...?

Was madness consuming him?

[bellarnyblakc]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar Characters: Jude Duarte, Cardan Greenbriar, Taryn Duarte, Locke (The Folk of the Air), The Bomb (The Folk of the Air), The Roach (The Folk of the Air) Additional Tags: Eventual Smut, This Whole Thing is due to One Scene I Wanted to Write, Don't Examine This Too Closely, the plot is background noise to set up a few specific scenes so just allow it fam, wish fulfillment bc who knows if QoN is gonna be kind to these dumb kids, no editing we die like men Summary:

“What happens now, then?” His voice was weary and thin.

“Why did you summon me? After all this time, why now?” she demanded.

“I need your help.”

“Yes, you said that in your damn letter. Maybe you shouldn't have sent me away in the first place! What’s going on?” she snapped.

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

It had taken her far longer than she liked to admit to figure out the trick woven into her banishment.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so blinded by fury and betrayal and the all-encompassing feeling of heartbreak, she would have remembered that the Fae should never be taken at face value. That, though they cannot lie, every word of theirs is a trick wrapped in a deception posing as the truth.

There was an unfamiliar ache in her chest that never let her forget how her walls had unknowingly been broken down bit by bit until only rubble lay in its place.

Sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, she could not stand the sight of the girl she had become. The girl who let feelings override her better judgement, who let herself be fooled into thinking that the boy who had only ever sworn his revenge and her destruction would deign to offer her wildest dreams on a silver platter. The teary-eyed fool who, despite her burning anger and hatred, in her weakest moments in the dead of night still missed his arms and lips and soft caresses and the way his eyes softened just for her.

So, yes. Maybe if she hadn’t been wallowing in her hurt feelings and bruised heart, she would have figured out the loophole sooner.

She had tested her theory, months ago, gingerly stepping one foot and then another over the border into Faerie. Nothing had happened, except a bird fleeing from a tree, squawking madly, startling her more than it should have.

She had breathed in the air, suddenly completely free of pollution and grime as if there was an invisible barrier between this world and the real one; like the junction of the river meeting the sea. It astonished her that it had actually worked, she knew Cardan wouldn’t have been so careless in his phrasing so he must have had an ulterior motive for allowing her return.

It troubled her that she couldn’t figure out why. That, in her absence, Cardan had learnt to weave schemes of his own and play the intricate game of politics so well that she no longer had the capacity to outmanoeuvre him.

She refused to let herself play into his hands so easily without a strategy of her own, so she didn’t linger, returning to Vivi’s house. Her planning should have started immediately, but instead when she got back in, she sat against the door of her unlit room feeling numb and hollow, relishing the dig of the doorframe into her spine. It hurt worse than being banished to know that she had lost something so fundamental to her existence; something she had prided herself on for years; something she relied upon to keep herself alive. After months of fast food and daytime TV and her mind-numbing part time job at the café, she had lost her ability to manipulate, scheme and strategise. The art of intrigue and conspiracy was beyond her reach now. The hours and hours of letting out her anger on a punching bag the gym only served to keep her body in shape, not her conniving mind as sharp as it once was.

It was moments like these, where she felt aged beyond her seventeen years where she missed the girl she could have been had she stayed in the mortal realm. The girl for whom a boy and a broken heart would have been the most important, tragic events in her life.

Tomorrow, she told herself sliding down with a sigh so that she was lying on the floor, lacking the effort to drag herself to her small, lumpy single bed who's sheets were well past needing to be changed. I’ll plan tomorrow, repeating it every day until before she knew it, weeks had passed in a haze of self-pity.

--

“Jude?” Viv’s voice filtered through the door, eliciting a muffled groan from where Jude’s head was burrowed into her pillow where she had flung herself after a gruelling eleven-hour shift. “You have a, um-“ Viv paused “a letter.”

Jude sat up curiously. She had never received a letter in her life. Not even boring bank statements or bills, since her dodgy boss paid her cash-in-hand. (She was becoming more and more convinced that the café was a drug front or a money laundering scheme.)

Her door opened and Viv frisbeed the letter over to her. The creamy paper was thick and rough, sealed with green wax. The loopy, spidery handwriting on the front was all too familiar to her, and she had the urge to destroy the letter, tear it up and eat it before bothering to read it. Almost unwillingly, she dug a finger under the seal so she could unfold the letter.

Darling,

Come back. I need you.

Expect an escort at midnight by the pier.

Yours, C.

She let out an incredulous huff.  A hurricane of unidentifiable feelings flared. How dare he command her, without so much as a 'please'? After he had banished her without a second thought, he now expected her to run back to his heel when it was convenient? She thought of that last, private smile he sent her after he proclaimed the punishment. The smile of someone for whom all the pieces were falling into place.

She scratched a fingernail over the first word, glaring as if he would feel it through the paper. The incorrigible cheek of him to address her that way after he had denied her in front of his whole court.

The bed dipped as Vivienne sat down, shoving Jude's legs into the peeling wall to make space as she did so

“Well?” she demanded, blunt as ever.

“He wants me to come back.” Vivienne snatched the letter out of her hands and scanned it in disbelief.

“Well,” she repeated, this time at a loss for words. There was a silence, and Jude idly played with the tassel of a decorative pillow. “What are you going to do? Does this mean he’s pardoned you?”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s pardoned me or not, I’ve already pardoned myself.” Viv eyed her sceptically. “I am the crown, right? We’re married.” She dug a nail into her palm, regretting every decision she had made that night. “Until the crown has passed from our hands.” she quoted.

“And you figured this out when?” the indignation of not being informed of her discovery sooner was evident on Vivienne’s face. She whacked Jude’s arm, and then again for good measure. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Ow!” Jude scooted away and glared. “It was a few weeks ago. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter! I’m not going back on his terms.”

“But, something's wrong in Elfhame,” Vivi's voice was low and uncertain, like she was tending to a wounded feral animal who would startle at the slightest noise.

“What? How do you know?” Jude grabbed the letter back and turned it over, as if there was writing on the back that she had missed. Vivienne snorted.

“It’s obvious. As if Cardan would ever call someone ‘darling’. He didn't want to address you by name and he didn't sign off with his. He’s being as vague and secretive as possible. He’s worried it will be intercepted.” Jude’s mouth twisted into a sneer, even as she felt a stab of disappointment that his endearment wasn’t sincere, regardless of how patronising it was.

“Good. I hope something is so wrong he doesn’t have time to sleep or eat.”

“So you’re not going to help?”

“If he wanted my help, he shouldn’t have sent me away!” her voice was petulant, like Oak’s when he wanted dessert before dinner.

“What if he gets hurt, or killed? Could you live with yourself knowing you hadn't even tried to help?” The patient tone of Vivienne's voice vexed her. She didn't like being talked down to.

“Yes. In fact, I’d throw a party if it happens.” Her voice was peevish, but they both knew it wasn’t the truth. “Leave me alone, Viv.” She burrowed into the pile of pillows once more, head spinning.

She hated Cardan. If he died it would be the least he deserved. She would just regret that she wouldn't be there to see it. Even as he forced herself to think this, she knew deep down that she would be unable to ignore it. She had to just see what was happening. She was going to go back. She just needed to know. Jude had never been one for keeping herself in the dark.

But she would never give Cardan the satisfaction of following his orders. If she was going back, it wouldn’t be the way he wanted her to. When the escort arrived at midnight, they would be waiting for her for a very long time.

She left hours later, after stuffing a bag full of everything in sight that could potentially be of any use.

“How are you going back if you’re not using a horse?” Asked Oak in confusion when she explained that she wasn’t going to wait for her ride as she strapped a holster to her thigh.

“I’m walking.” Her voice was grim. She sheathed a newly sharpened knife. Viv raised one fluffy eyebrow.

“Have fun,” she said archly. Jude nodded and stepped out the door. “And Jude!” she turned back to face Vivienne, “Take care of yourself, won’t you.” Jude sent her a small smile and waved at Oak, who blew a kiss and turned back to his homework, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation.

She set off, feeling the heavy outline of the letter in the breast pocket of her jacket.

A summons! She had been summoned and she was doing as she was told, like a loyal puppy. She hated Cardan for putting her in this situation in the first place.

It took her the evening and the better part of the night to arrive. Her anger and indignation fuelled her until the palace came into view and she was suddenly plagued with doubts. Coming back to Faerie was what Cardan wanted. Frustration welled up inside her as, for the first time in years, not only was she several moves behind, but she wasn’t even sure what game they were playing. The last thing she wanted to do was play into his hands. She had come running back without the barest hint of a plan.

That was how she found herself back in her old quarters having snuck into the palace through an old hidden passage, rifling through her old things for inspiration. Her room wasn’t dusty and untouched like she had been expecting. Instead, the sheets were rumpled and slept in; clothes that looked distinctly like Cardan’s lay strewn over the desk and a little pot of glittering silver paint lay open on the dresser.

“You’re rusty,” came a soft, amused voice from behind her. Immediately, she unsheathed her knife from her thigh and whipped round, digging the blade into the figure’s exposed throat. A flare of irritation surged as she couldn't deny the truth of his words. He had been able to sneak up on her without her being any the wiser.

Cardan smiled in the milky blue dawn light, seemingly unsurprised at the blade to his throat. He looked overtired and drained, the smudged gold around his eyes doing little to conceal the purple beneath his eyes. Despite his exhaustion, Jude couldn't deny that he still looked good. She hated it. She hated that he could still have this effect on her.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here.” She growled.

“Now where would be the fun in that?”

“You banished me from my home. You tricked me and sent me away like I was nothing but another piece in your games. And then you commanded I return.” She dug the knife in deeper, a sharp stab of malicious delight at the sight of blood. She wanted to dig the knife in deeper until she severed his artery and watch him bleed out on the floor. She wanted to drop the knife and pin him to the wall and lick the droplets of blood from his neck.

His smile became brittle at the edges. “I didn’t have a choice. There wasn’t any other way.” His hand reached out tentatively, fingers winding around her wrist so he could feel the angry beat of her pulse, lowering the blade slowly. “You killed my brother. If I had shown weakness, if I had allowed that offence to slide, the court would have turned against me. I couldn’t let my…” he trailed off and swallowed thickly, “personal feelings get in the way.” There was a brief pause, “Jude,” he breathed. “You know it was the only choice, you’re better at politics, a smarter strategist than me.”

The compliment only served to incense her. “Don’t condescend to me, Cardan,” she snapped. “You’re not telling the whole truth, are you? Of all the penalties you could have come up with, the only choice was to send me away?” she scoffed. “You wanted to punish me, didn’t you?”

He’d lowered her hand so the tip of the knife was hovering dangerously close to his liver. She pressed it into the soft velvet of his doublet. He shivered involuntarily, pupils blown wide.

“I should gut you right here. I just want the truth. Why send me away? Why leave me the opportunity to come back? Why send for me all of a sudden?” She stepped closer to him, so their bodies were flush. She could feel the heat of him, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed faster than normal, whether due to arousal or fear, she could not tell.

His hand wrapped around her waist, to push her away, or pull her closer, he wasn’t sure. “Fine,” he confessed in a whisper, “Yes, I was angry and I wanted to hurt you, but it wasn't... You killed my brother and you kept it from me, Jude-“

“He was terrible to you!”

“And you would be completely free of remorse were something to happen to Madoc?” he asked smoothly. “He was my tormentor, but he was also my brother.”

She hesitated, examining the burning embers of hatred towards her step-father. And yet, she had loved him in a fashion, craved his admiration and respect, even after watching him murder her parents. She knew enough about complicated family relationships to see where Cardan’s pain had come from.

She deflated, grip loosening on the knife so it clattered to the ground, suddenly more unsure of herself than she had been for a long time. Her head hurt. She was tired of these games, of second guessing herself and everyone around her, of having to be on her guard at all times, even around Cardan. Especially around Cardan. He slowly sank to his knees and picked the blade up, then looked at her with his dark eyes.

“But that’s still not the whole truth,” he admitted softly. A hand cupped the back of her knee, rubbing softly. “I wanted to keep you safe. I'd rather you be angry than dead. You were already so weak after Orlagh took you and it was so dangerous here-“

Jude’s heart hardened once again. “However did you get the impression that I needed, or wanted your protection?” she spat. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. God knows I’ve had more than enough practice after being tormented by you for my whole life.” Her words were a perfectly aimed arrow, and they landed precisely where she intended for them to cause the most hurt.

He stilled, and dropped his gaze. There was nothing he could say to that, they both knew.

Jude stepped away and surveyed the clearly inhabited room once more.

“Who’s your new Seneschal?” she asked .

“What makes you think I have one?” he rose and took several steps until he was leaning against the carved wooden bedpost.

“Who’s using my rooms then?” she said archly. Cardan darted his eyes to the pot of paint and shrugged. They stood in awkward silence for several moments.

“My rider returned empty hours ago. Did you walk? All the way from the mortal realm?" When she replied with nothing but a stony glare, his lips curved into a half-smile. "Why do you always insist on making things so difficult, you impossible girl."

"You don't get to act like I'm being melodramatic for refusing to take orders from you!" she shoved him in the chest unexpectedly and he tumbled onto the bed with a whoosh of air. He merely smiled indulgently and stretched out on the bed, cat-like, making himself comfortable. She sneered at him in disgust, frustrated that he appeared so collected and calm. She wanted to unhinge him, unravel him. Idly, she wondered how fast she could make him lose control if she pinned him down and kissed him. Or if she took her blade to his chest.

Why did you take so long to come back?” he asked tentatively, oblivious to her violent, lustful thoughts. “I know you figured it out weeks ago.” She scowled at him.

“You’ve had spies on me?” she asked indignantly.

“No, I felt you. In my kingdom.”

“Maybe I decided that I’m happier in the mortal world. Maybe I have a life now and I don’t care about-“ she stopped short as she realised she was going to say ‘you’. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reaffirming those feelings, especially since she was now so unsure of them herself, “this place anymore.” She improvised.

“What happens now, then?” His voice was weary and thin.

“Why did you summon me? After all this time, why now?” she demanded.

“I need your help.”

“Yes, you said that in your damn letter. Maybe you shouldn't have sent me away in the first place! What’s going on?” she snapped. He rose to his elbows, expression serious and worn.

“Madoc’s made his move, and now I’m going to make mine. We’ve been laying low and waiting him out, but I’ve had spies on Taryn since the beginning. We can take him down from the inside, but only if you play along. Jude, you’re my secret weapon.”