#i cannot write sun consistently

[idrawfunkythings]

DCAtober24 Day 8: Trouble

Words: 1,300+ Summary: Sun doesn't appreciate his rules being broken, and takes you for a ride (it's a lot goofier than it sounds)

Your job was becoming monotonous. Wake up, come to the daycare, help Sun wrangle all the kids, flirt in a way you hoped was a joke, bully Moon, go home to sleep and then repeat it all the next day. It wasn’t that you didn’t like your job - hell no, this place was the best thing to ever happen to you. But the constant cycle of the same stuff was starting to get to you.

Sun had noticed. You weren’t really trying to hide it, which was obvious when after Sun excitedly told you about the fact he’d be reusing the schedule from last week to help ease a few new kiddos in, you’d groaned and face planted the desk.

“Don’t give me that,” Sun tuts. “It’ll be fun!”

“Can we pleeeeeeeeese switch things up,” you moan, cheek mashed against the smooth tabletop. “I’m begging you. I’m getting sooooooooo bored.”

Sun spins his faceplate to the side. “You’d better not be calling me boring!”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhh.”

“Maybe the reason you’re bored is because-” Sun hums and crouches down next to you, to whisper in your ear. “You haven’t been sleeping properly.”

“Hi, Moon,” you grumble. “Go away.”

“Your attention slipping can be a sign of bad sleep patterns!” Sun recites, jumping back up and listing sleep related facts off of his fingers. “To have an optimal experience during the day, you should do your best to get to bed on time the night before.”

“Maybe I would get to sleep better if someone didn’t steal my keys,” you said pointedly. Sun shrugs.

“Maybe you should keep them hidden better.”

“I shouldn’t have to worry about my coworkers stealing my keys!”

“And I shouldn’t have to worry about you wanting to ruin my perfectly scheduled days because you’re bored,” Sun smiles. He places his hands over your own, holding them when you try and grab them back out of spite.

“Your days should be more interesting then.” It’s a kiddy insult, and he knows that, but his eyes glint with interest all the same.

“Well, friend, it almost sounds like you’re being mean to me,” Sun laughs, placing a hand over his mouth to fake-gasp. “And being mean is very much against the rules of the daycare.”

“Screw your rules.” You start to gather your stuff, checking your Fazwatch. You’d stayed back late enough that you’d missed the peak hour traffic, and getting home would be a piece of cake. You nod to Sun and stuff everything in your bag, getting out from your spot behind the security desk. “I’ll see you tomorrow buddy.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Your path is suddenly blocked by a very large, very yellow obstruction. You squint up at Sun in annoyance.

“Dude, come on.”

“You broke a daycare rule.” Sun does his usual habit of bending down and waggling a finger in your face. “Rulebreakers must be punished.”

“Can this rulebreaker be punished tomorrow, when I’ve gotten home and had a nice, warm shower?”

“Nope!”

“How am I meant to get a good sleep if you’re harassing me?” you try, attempting to sidestep Sun without him noticing. It fails, of course.

“You won’t get one anyway!” Sun days brightly, and you grit your teeth because obviously he’s right.

You cross your arms, extremely unimpressed. “Sun-”

You’re abruptly cut off when you’re lifted into the air, madly scrabbling for something to hold on to. This was one of Sun’s favourite things to do - to lift you up and then spin you around before letting you back onto solid ground, greatly disorienting you in the process.

However this time, there’s no spin, and he doesn’t put you back down.

You yelp as you realise you are suddenly nowhere near close to the soft playmats of the daycare. Instead, you’re suspended in the air, swaying back and forth with nothing but that stupid wire that Moon absolutely adored to keep you aloft.

The one that Moon adored, and the one that Sun was notoriously horrible at successfully using. Okay, great.

“Sun!” you shout, berating yourself for clutching onto him pathetically despite your anger. You tuck your head into his ruffles, just below his faceplate. “Put me back down!”

It wasn’t that you were scared of heights, per se - Moon had taken you on many a nighttime joyride. It was just that, like any sane person would be, you absolutely 100% did not want to be placing your faith in the hands of an animatronic that once managed to faceplant into the ball pit because he forgot how to work the wire.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine?” Sun laughs, although he quiets when the movement makes you cling to his neck. “I thought you liked flying.”

“Yeah, when it’s my choice,” you hiss, deliberately refusing to look at the wire and remind yourself how thin it really was. “And it never is, because neither of you understand how to ask someone before doing something!”

“Neither do you,” Sun hums, coiling his arms around your body as a reassurance that he won’t drop you. “You certainly don’t ask before you say mean things!”

“That’s because you deserve them,” you counter, crossing your arms, and then being instantly reminded why that was a bad idea when you shift in Sun’s grip.

“No one deserves mean things!” Sun admonishes, and you swear that you can see Moon rolling his eyes.

Once you’re completely sure that Sun is holding you as tight as possible, you cast a glance down to the daycare. The two of you are floating above the play structures, a few feet below the beams across the roof. The bright plastic star lights on the wall are shining brightly, illuminating the space.

When Moon takes you for a flight, it’s usually not in the daycare, and also so chaotic that you never have a chance to see what the plex looks like from so high up. But if you forgot about the fact that you yourself weren’t actually secured to the roof, it almost felt kind of peaceful, being above the ground. You understood why Moon loved it so much.

“Remind me why we’re up here,” you say after a beat.

“You broke the rules. You’re in trouble.”

“I am not a child, Sun.” He hums humourously. “I’m ignoring that. Put me down.”

“Time out.”

“Sun.”

“Rulebreaker.”

“Sun.”

He doesn’t say anything. After a while you look up at him. His permanent grin is looking suspiciously sheepish.

“Sun?”

“So. Uh.” His rays pulse once, twice, and his fans pick up the pace. “Slight issue.”

“Sun, please don’t tell me you don’t know how to get down.”

“Okay. I won’t, then.”

You hang in the air.

“Okay I have to. I can’t get down.”

Of course he couldn’t. You grip the sides of his face in annoyance. “Sun! I don’t want to be stuck here until the lights go out! What if you drop me?”

Sun scoffs. “I would never drop you.”

“Ten minutes ago, you probably would never have held me prisoner up here.”

“Very incorrect. I definitely would have.”

“Funny.”

Sun’s eye flickers red for a second, and he sighs, drooping. “Um. Moon says he can get us down.”

“Thank god for that.” You gesture to the wire. “Tell him to hurry up.”

“But he won’t.”

Count on Moon to be the most annoying, self centered, sadistic robot in the plex. You grit your teeth. “Why not.”

“He says you need to obey the rules.”

You shout protests, coming up with every name under the sun (ha) for the jester, earning you disapproving noises. You poke Sun’s eyes, untie his bells and threaten to spit in his joints, but Moon is a stubborn son of a bitch, and he refuses to come out.

After your energy is spent from harassing Sun, you sag into his arms. The lights wouldn’t be off until 8:00.

It was gonna be a long twenty minutes.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

me when i remember there is no serbian on duolingo.

[husseinshamia]

🚨‼️Please do not ignore my post, as it may be the last thing I write

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[etheries1015]

I had sort of a crack idea of what would the non-human twst boys do if their crush or s/o was allergic to them? Savanaclaw and Octonivelle with like the fur allergy and seafood allergy. Maybe diasomnia’s s/o has some sort of fairy allergy? Sorry if this is too silly for you to write, it’s alright if you don’t 😭

I LOVE THIS BECAUSE I'VE HAD A SIMILAR THOUGHT i'm allergic to cats and i'm like...man what am I gonna do around Grim BUAHAHA...this is a great idea. Nothing is too silly to write my friend!

Non-human Twst boys reacting to a S/O who is allergic to them!

featuring: Savanaclaw and Octavinelle!

general warnings: gender neutral reader, not really proof read \

TW: None! just fluff. and allergies.

Leona

The first time you sneezed around him, they didn't know it was literally BECAUSE of him. This was until you two took a nap together for the first time, and when you woke up he saw your face...Oh, brother. Your eyes were puffy and red, congested, and your nose leaked like nobody's business. He genuinely felt bad about this, but wouldn't let you in on his true feelings/emotions. Without understanding the cause (though he had an inkling) he immediately took you to the doctor.

"They're allergic to me? What kind of shitty nonsense is that?!"

Leona invested in the most expensive of healthcare for you. Allergy pills and whatnot, because he wasn't about to sacrifice his lovely naps with his significant other. No amount of allergy is gonna stop him from getting what he wants, and that is your affection.

Ruggie

"Sooo...basically you're saying you're allergic to me? Cause' im part heyena?"

"It's a little more complicated than that. It's more like...animal dander? I guess?" You didn't seem to certain in your answer either, it was more or less a guess since...well, there wasn't half beast half human where you are from. You can only make an educated guess on why you're so allergic to him based off of the information you had back at home.

Ruggie is honestly so sad about this. He can't afford to get you any treatments or medical help with this, so you two just have to be careful. He does manage to get his hands on some special washing products (probably legally) and takes extra care of what he eats, and how clean he his. He's consistently brushing his hair and cleaning his ears.

"Man i'm such a simp. What's wrong with me?!" ...He isn't used to bending backward for people. But seeing you so sick around him, hurt him even more than his pride, so he of course would do anything to make sure you're as comfortable around him as possible. Ahh...the power of love <3

Jack

He gives me the "I must stay away from you for your own good," Type. Although this doesn't last very long. Jack is incredibly loyal, and he's far too attached to let you go. There's times where he would try and keep a distance (much to your annoyance), but when you began sneezing and itching your eyes you knew he was somewhere nearby. Jack is protective like that, but it pains his heart to see you so sick because of something he cannot control.

He does both a mix of what Ruggie and Leona does. He took up extra part-time jobs to afford good allergy medication for you, the entire works. Pills, eye drops, nasal sprays, breathing treatments...He also invests in high-quality shampoo and conditioner to help rid of his dander and hopefully reduce the amount of shedding he has.

With the amount of hair Jack has, he is CONSTANTLY brushing it and it is CONSTANTLY shedding. He does EVERYTHING under the sun to control this, all for you. Although... this is a partnership! You told him that a relationship goes two ways. You love him regardless of how itchy you may get, and you equally chip in to problem-solve.

You're both loyal to each other until the very end, no matter what trivial matters may get in your way <3

Azul

He knew before you two started dating that you had a severe allergy to seafood, so he made it a point to avoid you. But...that didn't stop YOU from coming to HIM. It was one of the things that drew him towards you, the way even though you were gaining a rash you would still wrap your arms around the back of him. Although it wasn't as bad in his human form, he was always terrified what would happen if he were to unleash his original form.

But worry not! We are talking about the literal king of potionology. He finds a remedy very quickly, and you trust him...a little too fast. He is astonished when he says;

"Take this...the second you drink this your allergies will be something of the past. But be warned-" You grabbed it out of his hand and chugged it. He stared at you with his jaw slacked open, his face turning a deep shade of hot red when you throw yourself onto Azul and place a big fat kiss against his cheek.

He imploded. But hey! his potion worked! He tried to get you to give him some sort of paypack, but you mentioned that your form of payment was in that kiss.

He now demands kisses every time he makes the potion for you <3 It's kind of a silent agreement. He just stares at you after you're done drinking it, and whenever you feign ignorance the point upon his lips is far too obvious.

Jade

The first time you broke out in hives, he remained completely calm. Jade is rather smart, and he understands your allergy must be because of his disposition as a mer-folk. Although in human form, he couldn't help but notice the way you would hide your rashes either behind makeup or by bulking clothing. He was amused by this for a moment, but when he saw it worsen he couldn't help but become worried.

"Why would you go so far for me? what do you gain by allowing yourself to become sick?" When you replied with a blush that you simply liked Jade, thus his shock soon turned into action. He excused himself for a few days to climb mountains and collect the most effective of flowers and medicinal remedies for allergies and put together a potion that you were able to take to alleviate your symptoms.

He isn't the vice house warden for nothing! His talents and magic prowess truly aided him, albeit in a way that was seemingly selfish. It was all worth it for you, though.

But he does use you as an example during a class project in potionology, having you stand up in front of the class while he compares your allergies before and after taking the potion.

He got a 100% in the project. And a Significant other. A win-win for everyone!

Floyd

Floyd is much smarter than he lets on. The moment he hugs you from behind and touches your arm, he notices the rash right away. He eyed it with a frown, and without saying anything he let go of you much to your dismay, leaving you to your lonesome for a few days on end.

You had to admit you missed Floyd, his silly jokes and way of talking, his unpredictable personality, and the attention he would often give y you. While sitting at the table during a free period, your head was propped up against your hand and a sad sigh escaping your lips.

"Ehhhh? Why is shrimpy sitting here all alone? Didya miss me?" A familiar voice teased as arms wrapped around you and something akin to a vegetable drink set in front of you. You gasped and smile up at the tall male, who wasn't wrapping his arms around you as you were used to, typically ignoring the itching of your rashes. He convinced you to drink what he sat in front of you, and although you eyed it with suspicion, you sighed and drank it in one gulp and tightly shut eyes.

Nothing happened. You turned to look over at Floyd, about to question the purpose of making you drink the (surprisingly tasty) smoothie-like liquid but were quickly interrupted by lips pressing against your own.

The kiss caught you off guard and you began to panic, talking about your allergy...before you realized that nothing was happening. No rash, no itchiness, nothing.

"Seeeee? It's a potion. I made Azul make it for me. Now I can touch you as much as I want," He smiled proudly. However he managed to convince Azul would forever be beyond you...

He forgets to give you the potion sometimes, only when you two are cuddling and a rash or itching pops up do the both of you realize it's time for a dose.

Ya'll are so silly for each other <3

[inkedtae]

elixir of the damned ⇾ bgc. [M]

⎡sun bright, sun light burns the flesh of those that bite. moon’s gleam, night’s scream as shadows linger in lonely blight. but in the dark where spirits wail, a witch will rise— her power prevails⎦

⌁ pairing; vampire!chan x witch!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; vampire au, s2l, some angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 19.5k

⌁ summary; leech, nightcrawler, monster— chris is a vampire aching for sunlight. when he swims to a witch’s hidden island, badly burned, she offers him a secret remedy to survive daylight; he must drink her blood during her cycle, unleashing her true power and binding them for life.

⌁ warnings; graphic depictions and consumption of blood, graphic depictions of severe wounds, dom!chan, sub!reader, masturbation (f.), voyeurism, degradation, slight humiliation, rough sex, period sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, rough oral (f. receiving), body worship, spanking, teasing, slight edging, cum eating, blood play

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 prefer ao3? keep reading here

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a special thanks to dee ( @awrkives ) for making this sexy banner for me, and to my ride or die beta reader, jen ( @anobodyslove ) for consistently supporting me and reading over all the nonsense i write. i am nothing without you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪  please enjoy this final Chantober fic!

On the brink of winter, Elderwood is a haze of greys. Roads are bleak black. Sidewalks are cracked and chipped. Streetlights illuminate no more than five inches in diameter, dim and distant. Seemingly void of life, the little town exhales a puff of condensation as it inches towards November. In a matter of days, the saturated warmth of autumn reds will wither, the cold air frosting  over every morning, until all pigment completely fades.

It’s depressing to watch the world around him drain of colour as he wanders the streets. Still, Chris is grateful for the consistency. One thing he can always count on is the changing seasons. He may not be getting older, but the world is.

The wind whips against his muscular frame. It should make him shiver, but he can barely feel the chill, only aware of the wind because of its force. The only time he ever felt the cold was midnight on a particularly wet February two years ago. It was pouring down on him as he walked back to Jisung’s house from the shore. The wind was knocking down street signs. The earth was drenched and cold. Chris felt the chills on his skin, the faint prickle of goosebumps. He inhaled and pretended his lungs worked, filling up with oxygen. Pulling his shirt off, he exhaled and pretended a cloud of air was breathed out. The chills running down his spine made it easy to pretend he was alive.

Now, Chris pretends he can feel the breeze blowing through his muscle tee, still exhilarated by the memory.

There are only two moments when he forgets he’s a vampire. One is when he can feel the cold, and the other is when he’s feeding. The taste of bitter iron and copper staining his tongue makes him feel real . With every gulp, Chris can feel the consumed blood run through his veins, drenching his heart and organs. There is the lightest hue of pink in his skin once he’s done. It lasts for a few hours before it fades and he grows hungry again. As much as it annoys him, Chris looks forward to every meal.

In a matter of days, he will be closing in on eight years as a vampire.

Leech, nightcrawler, monster— Chris cannot block out the voices that chime in every time he thinks about that word. They loop in slow circles around his mind on a daily basis and taunt him between his insecurities and mistakes.

He’s not sure how it happened. He stopped sleeping. It was hard to keep things down. He didn’t like to eat much before swim practise anyways. Even a bite of food would sit like a rock in his stomach. He’d have to excuse himself five minutes into his laps to empty his stomach in the nearest trash can.

“Knocked up?” one of his teammates teased from the pool.

Chris wiped his chin with the back of his wrist. He glared at the diver, eyes wet and red, before clearing his throat, swallowing thickly, and diving back in himself.

Hand on his stomach now, Chris yearns for that disgusting feeling that burned his chest and scratched at his throat. He hates throwing up, but it seems so humane now to get sick, to feel sick.

Once he attempted to starve himself in hopes of emulating something similar to an illness. All it did was make him irritable, almost rabid. He thought it would at least be similar to sleep deprivation but it instead sharpened his supernatural senses for blood.

More than anything though, Chris misses the sun. Every morning, he senses its warmth against the boarded windows of Jisung’s basement. For a handful of minutes, he can bypass his inherent fear of the sun to imagine beams of light cascading over him. He imagines the heat kissing his flesh, returning his admiration, and basks in the feign brightness.

Sand invades his shoes.

Chris opens his eyes to find the sea before him. The waves crash against the shore, inches away from his toes. He inhales sharply. Salt and seaweed plague his tongue. He swallows breathfuls of the scent anyway, chasing nostalgia.

He took his first steps here, had his first kiss by the rocks at thirteen, learned to swim, to build extravagant sandcastles and raced along the shoreline with Jisung and Changbin. How many summers had he guarded the lives of beachgoers? How many bonfire bashes had he patrolled?

Chris gazes out at the horizon. His enhanced vampiric senses have sharpened his sight, refining the mesmerising image of the serene scenery. Even the far island of Crow’s Nest looks clearer. It has been bogged down by heavy fog for as long as he can remember. Sometimes the island seems so hazy, Chris is only reminded of its presence by the crows circling around it. He smiles to himself as he recalls the countless times he, Changbin and Jisung dared each other to swim towards it, each one boasting about how they would be the one to swim the closest only to rush back to shore.

Fuck— it all feels like a life time ago.

The ocean laps closer to Chris’s feet. He surveys his surroundings. Fog settles over the quiet town. Silence replies to his inquisitive stare. He turns back to the sea and considers the horizon. It must be nearing four or five in the morning, dawn slowly approaching. The sky is mostly cloudy too.

He wonders if— No.

His vampiric instincts shudder at the thought. Chris fights through it, resisting the urge to turn around and hurry back to Jisung’s basement.

I have time , he mentally hisses.

The sun won’t be up for another hour or so, and given how considerably cloudy it is, he might have an extra fifteen minutes to collect his clothes and rush back into the safe darkness of the basement. His enhanced speed would get him there within ten minutes anyway.

Chris tugs at the hem of his shirt while kicking off his shoes. He feels the wind push around his muscular torso. He takes a moment to inhale deeply, swallowing the scent of the salty sea, and resists the urge to gag. Determined not to let the suppressed reaction discourage him, he unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his briefs. For a second, he braces himself, expecting a chill upon his full nudity.

Then the reality of his being sets in.

He huffs an annoyed groan and marches into the water. He’s so frustrated he doesn’t feel it at first. However, as he continues to wade further into the ocean, the water now lapping just above his waist, Chris shivers .

Cold— ice cold. The sea welcomes him home.

Chris chuckles, relief blossoming in his chest. He caresses the surface of the water as another chuckle tumbles out of his full lips. If he was still human, tears would prick his eyes from the sheer relief of finally feeling something. Embracing the biting chill, he dives in.

Under deep blue darkness, the world muffles around him. He points his hands in front of him, the same way he was training eight years ago, and propels further into the ocean. Seaweed dances beneath his feet, the current moves around him. Being undead gives him an advantage as he can remain submerged for longer now.

Twirling, swirling, he swims and swims— faster than he could before his shift. The rush of the waves propel him further into the water, caressing his toned body. Chris suppresses a smile as he watches fish dart and algae float around him.

When he finally surfaces, he lets out a heavy breath on instinct, but he doesn’t care. He pushes his hair back and wipes his nose, heaving anyway because in this still moment, Chris is teetering on the edge of humanity for the very first time in eight years.

Looking back to the shore, he finds that he may have gotten carried away. The mainland is almost a figment of his imagination with the amount of distance he has created.

And Crow’s Nest is completely visible.

Chris looks between the shore and the island, then lets out a full bellied laugh, one he hasn’t been able to muster in years. Changbin and Jisung are never going to believe him when he tells them he got this close to Crow’s Nest .

Not only is it far, but most believe the island is haunted. Townies for years have claimed to witness figures lurking between the trees and flickering lights throughout the night. Someone once swore they saw a figure flying over the island on a broomstick amongst the crows. Throughout the years, many sceptics have tried to travel to the island, only to be deterred by the current and pushed back to shore. Changbin once told him that one person did make it onto the island but was never heard from again.

Chris was not completely convinced by the tall-tales of Crow’s Nest, but he still constantly felt unsettled by its presence.

However, surveying the island now, he cannot remember why he was so scared. Sure, the myths were strange, but they were myths in the end.

Vampires were once a myth , a little voice murmurs.

Stifling the sinister voice, Chris looks to the sky and finds it’s still a swirl of charcoal grey and slated blue. His smile returns before another chuckle bubbles from his eased chest. Floating upon the surface, he lays back, allowing the current to guide him for a moment. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the fading sensation of the cold upon his pale skin.

While Chris knows he has more time to revel in this rare human moment, he cannot help the anxiety festering in the base of his stomach. What if he never feels this way again? What if he has to wait another eight years to feel something, anything again? And yes, this has been a cathartic experience by himself, but some of his favourite human memories are shared with his loud, chaotic friends. He can imagine Changbin complaining about how deep the water is and Jisung making jokily suggestive comments about how naked they all are. He would never be able to convince them to go skinny dipping in the middle of October at dawn. Changbin is too much of a whiny baby to handle the cold and Jisung sleeps as deep as the dead— Chris would know being undead himself.

So, while he may feel a fraction of his humanity again, he cannot forget that he is still alone.

A sense of deep danger surges through him, silver eyes snapping open. Amber light spills across the once frosty charcoal-blue sky.

The sun is rising.

His vampiric instincts rage in his chest, as if scolding him for being so reckless.

Chris internally curses at himself. He’s about to swim back to shore when he notices rays of light shining against the sand, inching towards his clothes.

Fuck .

How long had he been floating? When did time start to move this quickly? The last eight years have felt like eternity, but it’s as though the last two hours flew by within twenty minutes.

Chris lets out a shaky sigh and considers his options. He can try to make it back to shore and sprint home, grabbing his clothes later (if the current doesn’t swallow them). He can try to dive deep enough in the water to evade the sun, but risk drowning over and over for the next twelve hours. Or…

A murder of crows circle the island to his right.

Crow’s Nest.

“ Shit ,” he mutters under his breath.

Chris dives. He uses all his strength to fight against the current. The closer he’s gets to the island, the harsher the ocean becomes. The waves are not forceful, simply persistent with their suggestion to turn back. It’s as if the sea is warning him against reaching the island.

He fights through it still, pushing himself to swim faster.

Though he does not have a pulse, Chris is heaving by the time he can walk onto the shore. He runs a hand through his hair and spits the excess seawater out of his mouth. Leaning on his knees, he takes a moment, for the first time in eight years, to catch his breath.

Vision blurring, hands shaking, Chris mutters a string of vulgar curses. The swim has depleted his energy. Thirst— No, hunger gnaws at his chest, his gut, his very being, tearing through his innate instincts to find shade. His senses instead sharpen for a hunt. The scent of crow, frail and small, immediately overwhelms him. He can nearly taste the thick blood that pumps under their onyx feathers.

“ Ah!” Chris hisses, jolting forwards as the light nips at his ankles.

The sun .

Using the last bit of his strength, Chris dashes towards the trees. However, as he’s about to cross into the safety of the shade, the sun strikes, scorching his skin.

Chris screams, collapsing to his knees. His back stings with a relentless hiss. Scurrying forward, he manages to make it into the shade with only a few more minimal, yet painful welts on his thighs and calves. He chokes back more groans as his pale skin bubbles and burns from the intense heat.

He shifts further into what he thinks is the shade, trembling and whimpering, when the breeze kicks in and rattles the already loose leaves from the trees. Chris looks up, watching a gap form and give way for another attack from the sun.

Bright rays blaze his face. Another fraught scream tears through his throat and he tries to shield his eyes with his arm. Only one eye could be saved, the other feels as though it is melting into his skull.

Pain, pain— aching pain. Chris screams, his voice cracking as he channels that last of his strength and throws himself against the tree stump with unnatural speed.

Hiccuped moans tumble from his wounded, cracked lips. He heaves, voice nothing more than a wheezing shattered mess. His flesh deteriorates, once eternal body now crumbling under the bright light. The rotting smell of his dead body simmers around him, brewing nausea deep in his gut.The sand bites into his burnt skin, like salt on a fresh wound. Whimpering, he grits his teeth and attempts to bear the pain.

It’s not that bad. It’s not that bad. It’s not tha—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans, the pain overtaking his mind. He tries to repeat the phase again but can barely get past the first syllable.

Chris knows he can’t stay here. The sun will move, the light will shift, the fucking wind will betray him. He is not guaranteed safety if more leaves fall and the light seeps through again. Yet, he cannot move. Without blood to sustain his movements or renew his vampiric healing abilities, he might just die anyway.

So, Chris simply stares at the clutter of copper and gold leaves around him and suppresses whimpers. Is this the sickness he was previously craving to feel? Is this the humanistic pain he so badly yearned for? Chris cannot help but curse at himself over and over as his vision slowly blurs.

Is this really how it ends , he wonders. Wet from the sea, hot from the sun, eight years of demonic hell inch to this painful end.

Coughing up bile, he spits it over his shoulder and exhales deeply. Well, at least, he was able to experience a final moment of humanity, even if it was alone. And when he sees Changbin and Jisung again, he’ll tell them all about how he swam to Crow’s Nest and wasn’t immediately devoured by the monsters that they believe lurk within.

And if nothing else , he thinks as the darkness slowly closes in on him, I had one last moment in the sun.

“What have you done to yourself?”

A soft flowery voice caresses him. Chris mentally leans into the feminine allure of the voice, allowing himself to be wrapped in her gentle tone.

Then, the voice suddenly solidifies shattering the warm cocoon Chris found himself giving into, as she repeats, tone firmer now, “Are you insane?”

Chris tilts his head, choking on more bile as a surge of pain ripples through him. A curvy figure dressed in a thin, white sundress rushes towards him. He can barely make out her face, his sight almost completely gone, but her scent— fresh rain, lavender and sage— overwhelms him. For a second, he sees himself strolling through a field of wildflowers after a rainstorm, following the full figured beauty into the warmth of the light.

“Wow, you’re really naked,” she suddenly mumbles under her breath.

Voice raspy, Chris asks, “Are… you an angel?”

Soft hands cup his face; delicate, sweet, and gentle. Chris tries to regain some semblance of his sight, eager to take in her ethereal features but the pain hinders his focus.

And then, all at once, darkness claims him.

Dawn is still. While the sun peeks through clusters of clouds, the sky shifts from pale blue to rose-gold. The wind, once flowing through the small cottage through the open windows, disappears. Even the crows, who often guard your little hideaway, fall silent.

You freeze mid-chop and turn towards the backdoor. A murder of crows still lingers around your backyard, but they seem rigid, as if they are not sure how to react.

Furrowing your brows, you set down your knife and abandon your half-chopped eggplant. You wipe your hands on your apron, making your way to the door.

A loud buzzing rings through your ears, stopping you mid-stride. You furrow your brows, senses finally flaring.

Abandoning the back door, you move towards the front instead. The moment you pull it open, you feel it— the shift in the air, swirling with panic, fear and… pain ?

A loud scream suddenly echoes through the morning fog, taut and sharp.

Chills run down your spine.

You’ve found many injured animals while hiding in Crow’s Nest within the last decade. You’ve repaired broken bones, mended mangled wings and even helped beached sea creatures find their way back into the ocean. However, nothing you have encountered has ever sounded so huge.

Shaking off your nerves, you step out and shut the door behind you. The wind picks up, colder than before. It ruffles through your white sundress, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself. Another frail scream echoes, this time starling the crows back into motion. Hawthorne, your clingiest crow, lands on your front porch with a concerned tilt of his head, as if coming to check on you. Your face deadpans as more crows settle on the rickety, oak wood and peer up at you.

“You literally saw me from the garden,” you sigh. Stepping around them, you ask, “Do you know where that sound came from?”

Poe squawks before fluttering into flight, and a few other crows follow after him as well. You trail behind them, pulling your wand out from between your breasts. You assume that whatever washed up on your island must be harmless enough for your wards not to alert you upon its arrival. Still, you keep your twelve-inch mahogany wand, the polished ebony wood twisted and glittering like silver stars, steady before you.

Rotten vanilla and burnt, parched oak intoxicate your next breath. The scent envelopes you in despair, as you draw closer to the source. Heaving, whimpering, coughing, the broken sounds of pain become clearer with every step.

And then you see him— extremely pale and teetering consciousness. His face, which might have once been a handsome blend of soft masculinity, is grey and blistering. Arm, shoulder, ribs; the left side of his body is peeling skin, almost as if dusting and rotting all at once. The edges of the wounds are lined with black. It’s as though he’d been charred under open flames.

“What have you done to yourself?” you whisper under your breath.

You draw nearer, trying to make sense of this… being? You’re not quite sure what he is. He most definitely cannot be a human. He should be bleeding and the welts would be blistering, eager to reverse the damage.

His eyes squint open and you almost miss it. The right one is a rich chocolate, purely humanistic and warming. The left, however, is a blinding silver. Swimming with thirst and desperation, even exhausted, that gleaming grey eye conveys more threats than promises.

Vampire .

Dawn, light, burns, it all starts to make sense.

“Are you insane?”

He chokes on bile, resting his head back against the tree trunk.

As he tries to find his voice, you take a moment to scan his frame, looking for more wounds. It’s then that you notice just how naked he is. Guilt and shame fester in your chest at the realisation that, despite the wounds, he does not look so bad, perhaps even… attractive.

Your attention lingers below his waist. The sight heats your face. “Wow, you’re really naked,” you whisper more to yourself than him.

“Are…” he starts, summoning your attention back to his mismatched eyes, “you an angel?”

The question startles you. After a few blinks, you swallow thickly and clear your throat.

Wraith, nightshader, monster— you’ve been called many names throughout your life as a blood-witch. Your previous coven conjured most of the insults, but the mundane town of Elderwood has never been a friend to the supernatural either, despite its mythical origins. Ridiculed for your magic, banished by family and supposed friends, you didn’t think you’d ever meet another paranormal being, let alone be confused for an angel.

Cupping his face, you decide that he’s delirious. Scorched by the sun, thirsty for blood (if his nearly translucent skin is any indication), he probably took one look at your white dress and assumed he was dying.

You gasp as he suddenly falls limp in your hands. You’re about to check his pulse when you remember he’s a vampire. Muttering curses, you stand up.

“Create some shade,” you order the crows. As they cluster overhead, you add, “We need it dark enough to move him.”

More crows fly in to help, clouding over the wounded vampire to shield him from the rising sun.

Deep breath in and out, you centre yourself. Your lungs carry his festering scent, the faint notes of sweet vanilla and sturdy, dry oak soothing your erratic heart.

You open your eyes with a heavy, steady exhale. Holding out your wand, you dig your heels into the ground. Magic flickers from your fingertips and warps into the wand, waiting for your direction. Only, you’re not sure if you’re making the right choice.

Healing animals, saving helpless lives is much of what you do on this little island, besides tending to your magical garden, brewing potions and crafting talismans. You’ve always felt grounded when you’re able to help someone, anyone . The only other time you feel as accomplished and useful is when you update your journal. Keeping a detailed grimoire of new spells, potions, thoughts, and observations has been your only other source of stabilising your sanity amidst such a solitary life.

But, a vampire is not some other helpless animal. You don’t know a lot about the blood-demons, only that they have been damned upon their own moment of desperation. He clearly made naive deals without much consideration of the consequences. And the fact that he wandered out in daylight does not help his case.

He could be recently turned or just simply stupid and desperate. Either way, you wonder if this is a good idea. Moving him would mean inviting him into your home. Is that really the wisest decision? It would mean that he would have access to the little cottage without your permission, even if you reinforce your wards. Your invitation would be enough to welcome him in every time.

Still, you know you cannot heal him out here. The sun will shift and only shine brighter throughout the day. The crows can only fly for so long as well. And while your magic is malleable, it is not infinite. It will not be able to sustain a shield weaved of your powers without an anchor like the hearth of your cottage to truly ground and replenish your strength. The only way to save him would be to bring him into your sanctuary.

Or, a little voice mutters, you can just let him die.

You recognise that internal voice as your mother’s. It carries the same sharpness and disdain for your intuitive decisions. You’re not surprised it has reared its ugly head in a moment of uncertainty and distress. It often has a habit of kicking you while you’re down, or coaxing the worst out of you.

Shoving the vile voice back to the farthest corner of your mind, you wave your wand. The handsome vampire levitates under the allure of your magic.

“We move as one,” you order. “And, be careful.”

The crows mutter amongst themselves, but follow your commands. Together, you slowly move further into the forest.

Once you step foot onto the porch, the cottage anticipates your needs. The windows and curtains shut and candles flicker to life along with the hearth. You push open both front doors to accommodate his broad frame. Guiding him into your living room, you wonder if he was an athlete or swimmer prior to turning. His lean yet muscular figure indicates one or both hobbies.

Shame rises in your chest again. You have no idea what has gotten into you. When did you become so perverted and disgusting? How could you check out a wounded man so casually like that, like he’s not unconscious and on the brink of death? 

Swallowing your shame away, you lay him down on your soft, velvet green sofa. He sinks into the comfortable cushions, still and frail. Draping a handknitted, midnight black blanket over him, you notice his skin becoming grey. And even the parts that have not been touched by the sun begin to peel. 

You mutter a curse and rush to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinets, you look between jars of carefully crafted salves and mud masks. Aloe, honey, shea butter, coconut– what the fuck would heal the undead flesh of a vampire? If he was conscious, you’d give him a jar of blood from your preserves and hope that with enough consumption, he’d eventually heal himself. 

The cottage attempts to help you. It pushes open drawers of loose ingredients. Even a few stray crows, who managed to sneak in before the house could shut the door behind you, fly from book to book, trying to inspire you to just look up the information you need. You wave off the house and ignore the crows. You need something quick and complete. You don’t have time to brew something or search through old pages. 

Shifting its approaches, the cottage offers salves you’ve already made and saved from different cabinets around the kitchen. It hovers the jars before you, continuously suggesting a variety of creams as you wave them off. 

You’re about to wave off the next suggestion when the name catches your eye: Sunveil Balm . Golden yarrow and rosemary oil, lunar lilac extract, white ash bark powder, dewdrop resin, the essence of morning fog and the rare but potent dust of golden pearls, you remember crafting the balm for a bat with scorched wings. It stayed out in the sun for much too long one blistering summer and received several burns. A few generous swipes of the salve repaired the damage within ten minutes.

You snatch the gold-shimmering cream, darting back to the living room. With a wave of your hand, the jar twists open. You dip into the pot and scoop out a good amount before gently tilting his face and slathering the soft, creamy balm over his left cheekbone and temple. 

Mismatched eyes of brown and grey snap open. A loud scream tears through his throat as the wound hisses under the golden salve. He instinctively brings a hand up to his face to wipe it off, only for the salve to burn his fingers. 

“Shit,” you murmur before shouting, “Get me blood, now!”

The cottage complies, hovering various jars of animal blood in front of you. It’s the human blood that catches your eye, though. You know that if you want him to recover quickly, you have to supply him with your best stocks. Human blood, however, is rare for you. Without a coven of well-connected witches, harvesting human blood from your remote little island has proved to be a difficult and daunting task. You only have about five large jars left. 

He trembles into the sofa, choking on his own bile. 

You sigh, realising you’ve made it this far. You have already invited him into your home and made the decision to save him. If that weren’t enough, you’ve just deepened his pain with fresh burns.

With another wave of your hand, you twist the jar of human blood open, then snatch it from the air. “Shh, shh,” you calmly whisper, snaking your arm under his head to support the lift of his neck. He tries to swallow thickly, but chokes on the smell of fresh, cold blood. You bring the lip of the jar closer to his mouth and administer small, careful sips.

You watch as his eyes roll back from the taste. Arousal pools between your thighs. You curse yourself three times over for the way your body reacts. It’s been ten years of using your wand as a vibrator or making do with your fingers. You tell yourself that it’s simply pathetic desperation, a chronic need for human interaction that triggers this sort of reaction to him. Shame and regret still tighten in your chest, encouraging the continuation of your internal insults and curses.

A croaky groan echoes within the jar, pulling you out of your thoughts. The vampire sits himself up and takes the jar from you. He starts to down the blood in large gulps. His chest heaves, throat bobs and rogue trails of blood leak from the corner of his lips. 

You stand and turn away from him, much too aroused by the animalistic sight. Trying to ground yourself, you take shaky breaths in and out, and focus on the length of your breaths, the sound of the exhale. You don’t realise he’s done until you hear him clear his throat. 

Turning back to face him, you find his skin has solidified back to its normal pale, white colour. The black soot around his wounds remains along with a few remaining welts, however life (or lack thereof) has returned to his undead body. 

“More?” He quietly asks, voice deep and husky. 

You nod and hold a hand towards the kitchen. Another large jar of human blood shoots into your grasp. The vampire blinks as you wave the lid open, and lower the glass down to him. He trades you the empty one, letting his attention drift up and down your frame. 

Your shoulders roll back, chest puffing forward under his curious gaze. 

You are pathetic , you think to yourself.

Embarrassed by your actions, you leave him in the living room with his meal and return to the kitchen. Hawthorne and Poe perch on the counter by your recipe books. They cast disapproving stares in the dim candlelight as you enter.

You roll your eyes and whisper, “He was dying.” When they continue to silently judge, you add, “I happen to recall a time when two little birdies got into a fight for the fourth time and begged me to help them even when they promised not to let it happen again. So, maybe we shouldn’t be so judgemental.”

Both crows tilt their heads downwards in shame. 

“Who are you talking to?”

You squeal, jolting as you turn to face the vampire. He stands in the archway of your kitchen, blanket wrapped around his waist. He clutches the soft fabric with one hand by his hip and the empty jar with the other. You resist the urge to look at his fully healed chest, knowing it will only further arouse you, and fixate your attention on his face. 

While the blood has completely reversed the damage of the sun on his skin, his eyes still remain discoloured. You draw closer to examine it, getting within a hand’s reach before remembering that you two are still strangers, he’s still naked and there’s still steaks of blood staining his chin. 

He raises a brow at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. 

Does he think I’m into him , you wonder as panic fills your chest. You clear your throat and take a step back. 

“Your eye,” you start, pointing to your left one, “It’s still silver.”

He reaches up to touch it. Understanding shifts his features from arrogance to self-caution. 

“Do you need more blood?” you ask, wondering if perhaps more consumption would help.

He shakes his head. “I’m full,” he replies. Stepping into the kitchen, he holds the empty jar out for you. 

You take it and place it on the counter by the other one he finished. You turn back to face him, regrettably letting your gaze flicker down his defined chest again. It’s buff and broad, the perfect addition to his strong shoulders. His waist is slim, toned and narrows down to delicate hips that you are sure have some unforgiving moments. Internally cursing yourself for your lack of self-control, you note that, at least this time, you’re lusting after him while he’s conscious and not in active pain. 

He suddenly clears his throat, beckoning your attention back to his face. A shy smile settles on his lip and he raises a brow. 

Great , you sarcastically think, now he’s going to think I only helped him because I think he’s hot . 

“I’m Chris,” he introduces, holding out his hand. “And I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.”

You bite your lip. Maybe he was tired before or you were just too preoccupied by the gravity of the situation to catch it the first few times he spoke, but he has a thick, lazy accent that comforts your reclusive soul in ways it probably shouldn’t.

You offer your name, accepting his hand. The chill from his skin is all encompassing and it takes everything in you not to shiver. After a couple of good shakes, you release his hand to reach back and grab a clean tea towel. You hand it to him and gesture to your chin. “You’ve got a bit of blood,” you carefully inform. 

Chris scrubs his face harshly. You thought the knotting brows and darkening eyes were an indication  of embarrassment upon the mention of the little mess he made of himself. However, from the way he drags the tea towel over his newly healed skin, you wonder if he is upset, perhaps hateful. 

“Thanks,” he mutters again, catching your lingering gaze. 

You take the tea towel back when he’s done and toss it to Poe. The little crow catches the stained cloth and flies it over to the dirty pile. A little amused smile plays on your lips as you watch Chris look between you and the crow. He parts his lips to ask something, but he cannot find his words.

“Let’s have a seat,” you softly suggest, nodding towards the archway. “You must be exhausted.”

Chris nods, letting out a heavy breath. He steps to the side to let you weave around him and lead the way back to the living room. His steps are so light and gentle as he follows. You probably wouldn’t have heard them if you weren’t paying such close attention, sneaking a look behind you. 

His gaze focuses around your hips, or rather the sway of them. You catch him biting his lip before turning to face the front again. Letting out a shaky sigh, you try not to let the little gesture go straight to your head. You’ve received quite a few stares when you lived with your coven once upon a time ago. Most would either linger around your breasts or rear. Sometimes it was due to the sheer size of your voluptuous body and very rarely was it done in admiration when it came to staring at your arms or stomach or thighs. Your backside, however, always received that same carefully longing attention. 

So, he doesn’t like you , you tell yourself. He just likes what he sees .

You take a seat on the black leather armchair by the fireplace, sinking into the comfortable cushions, and nod to the emerald couch he previously laid on. 

Chris sits across from you. Shifting in his seat, he adjusts the blanket to properly cover his hips and crotch. Your eyes meet and, for a brief second, you swear you catch the lightest, faintest hint of pink creeping up his neck and spreading to his cheeks. 

Shifting uncomfortably in your own seat, you offer an apologetic smile and say, “I don’t think I have any clothes for you.”

He returns the gentle gesture with a small grin of his own and shakes his head. “It’s fine. I can try to get the ones I left on the beach later tonight.”

You raise your brows at the new information. Leaning over one of the arms on your chair, you attempt to peek into the kitchen. “Hawthorne?” You shout. 

Chris looks back at the archway only for Hawthrone to dart out. He flies over head, startling Chirs as he ducks his head to avoid the fast bird. 

“Go to the mainland and see if you can find some clothes on the shore for me,” you order once he lands on the arm of your chair. “And take Tenny and Poe with you.” 

Hawthorne squawks. He takes flight again, heading to the front door when you tsk at him. He returns to your side, waiting for instructions. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask then nod to the back of the cottage, “We have a sun sensitive visitor. Take the back door.”

He caws again and zooms right over Chris’s head. There is a ruffle of feathers, followed by more cawing before the slam of an open and shut window sounds. 

Chris swallows thickly, sitting back into the couch. “So you talk to birds,” he says as a way to break the silence. 

“Yup,” you nod. 

He nods along with you, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Your attention falls on his cleanly shaved armpits, the flex of his bicep. You cross your legs and press your thighs tightly together at the thought of being caught in a headlock, or cuddling under his arm and inhaling his thick, sickly sweet scent.

“Um,” he starts, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blink at him upon meeting his gaze. There is a knowing look in his mismatched eyes, and the faintest flicker between your own and your tense thighs. But he does not comment on your suddenly rigid posture. Gesturing to his face instead, he asks, “What was the–”

“Sunburn cream,” you answer, cutting him off. “It’s called Sunveil Balm. I guess it doesn’t work on vampires.”

He tentatively nods. “And what are you?” He registers the bluntness of his question the moment it leaves his full lips, and panic floods his eyes. Quickly, he adds, “No offence. It’s just– the magic–” he cuts himself off, pointing to your hands. 

A little smile plays on your lips with a slip of a chuckle. “I’m not offended,” you reassure, shaking your head. “I’m a witch. A blood-witch.”

“What makes a blood-witch different from a witch?”

“What makes a vampire different from a demon?”

Your voice is light and teasing but your playfulness falters at the sight of his concerned features.

“I-I’m a demon?” he asks, confusion creasing between his brows. He looks so lost, you’d think he’d never seen one before. It’s as if he didn’t conjure darkness to trade his soul away. 

Perplexed yourself, you nod. “Well, yes. How did you not– No,” you shake your head with a few blinks, then look back at him, starting again, “How long have you been a vampire?”

“About eight years.”

“Eight?”

He confirms with a nod. 

What the fuck?

Now, demons are tricky and conniving. They always make a deal that falls more in their favour than their summoner’s, but they have some decorum, especially towards each other. Upon their summoner’s shift into a vampire, the demon must have visited and informed him of his new, undead state. You recall reading about countless accounts of demons shadowing their newest additions and teaching them how to hunt, run and hide in the shadows. It’s common practice.

But more than that, you wonder how a vampire of eight years would miscalculate the rise of the sun and self-inflict such terrible wounds. Given the fact that he used his last bits of strength to find shade, you have to assume it wasn’t done on purpose. But, you also have a hard time believing that he’s naive enough to not know when the sun will rise during this time of year, especially after eight years of being undead. From the few books you’ve read on vampires during your studies as an apprentice, you know that they have a biological clock, an inherent instinct to not only avoid the sun, but fear it. 

Chris, pretty eyes round and youthful face uncertain, looks like he woke up one day, never went to sleep again, and was never told why.

“Am I missing something?”

“That’s what I’m wondering,” you reply. “This doesn’t make sense. How did you turn? And why were you out this late, anyway?”

He bites on the inside of his cheeks and averts his gaze. “It’s complicated.”

Furrowing your brows, you’re not sure which question that was supposed to answer. You decide to take it one step at a time, asking, “Did you want to get burned?”

“No,” he immediately replies, meeting your gaze. 

Had it not been for the firm eye contact, you might have doubted him. 

“So, what is it then?”

“It’s just…” he trails off, running a hand through his damp hair. “Complicated.”

You raise a brow, lingering your attention on his head. Recalling your thoughts about his physic earlier, you wonder if he really is a swimmer. If he perhaps ventured too far out into the sea and exhausted himself in the process. However, noting the way he nervously averts his gaze, you decide to redirect the conversation to something that’s hopefully less complicated.

“You don’t need to tell me why you summoned the demon,” you start, knowing the reason must have been dire for him to turn to the darkness for help. “I just don’t understand how you didn’t know that you, technically, are one.”

His face scrunches in concentrated confusion. He thumbs his nose and tilts his head at your words, and you’re starting to wonder if he’s been cursed or simply a pretty face. 

“I didn’t summon a demon. I just…” he trails off, averting his gaze as he searches for the best way to word his transition, “ became a vampire.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It’s what happened.”

“Explain the process,” you order, sitting back in your seat. “How did you know you were a vampire if no one told you?”

There is a twinge of challenge in his narrowing eyes. He flits his gaze up and down your relaxed frame and tongues his cheek. He then leans his elbows on his knees, broad shoulders now on full, flexed display under the warm glow of flickering candle lights. 

You swallow thickly and force yourself to maintain eye contact. 

“Do you always use that tone?” He suddenly asks, voice low and deep.

Barely above a whisper, you reply, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He smirks as newfound understanding glimmers in his silver eye. “That’s better,” he says before sitting back into his seat. 

You’re not sure what’s more lethal, the way he leans forward, every curve of his muscles contrasted perfectly in the shadows of the dim lights, or the way he leans back, legs spread and chest open. Both are equally as inviting, enticing you to shed your inhibitions and completely lose yourself against him. 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he starts, shattering your focus on his sprawl body. “I was feeling sick for weeks. I could barely keep up with my training, and–”

“Training?”

“I was a swimmer.”

Knew it – Your eyes flicker to his shoulders for a split second.

“I was the fastest on the team. I even had a scholarship,” he says. A faint smile hovers over his plush lips at the memory. “I stopped drinking. I stopped eating. And on the day of the championship, I was terrified to leave my dorm. I nailed wood and bedsheets over my window and hid under the bed. My friends found me at one point, much later in the night, and I…” he pauses, swallowing thickly, “I attacked them.”

You remain still, expression neutral. He watches you closely, as if waiting for a gasp or blink of acknowledgement. 

“I just remember being really, really thirsty. I chased them through the courtyard until they talked me out of ripping them apart. And–” he cuts himself off with a little laugh. 

You raise your brown trying to fight off your own smile at the sweet, deep rumble emitting from his buff chest.

“Sorry, I just remembered one of my friends’ screams– Changbin. He’s a complete wimp and was squealing the whole time. You’d like him. Everyone likes him,” he explains. When you return his sweet smile, he continues, “Anyway, they talked me out of killing them, helped me hunt a rabbit, which took too fucking long for three grown men, and then made fun of me while I drank it’s blood.”

“They sound like idiots,” you joke, fighting your own laughter at the image he crafted for you. 

“They are,” he nods, voice thick with nostalgia. Then, he clears his throat and adds, “Anyway, there weren’t any demons or witches or anyone else. Just us and the internet.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “While that sounds like a terrible disaster,” you tease, much to his amusement, “that’s not really how vampires are made.”

“I wasn’t bitten either.”

“That’s misinformation,” you dismiss. “No one gets bitten to turn. Anyone who has been bitten by a vampire and survived merely experiences more drastic symptoms of rabies then dies. They are bats after all.”

Judging by the constantly confused expression on his face, you deduce he has not discovered he can turn into a bat yet. You hold off on that nugget of information for now, returning to your explanation, “Vampires are the result of humans making deals with some sort of demon. While possessions are common, demons do not want your body. They are always after your soul. Whatever remains is the demonic shift from humanity to deviance. You may still have your body, but your connection to the supernatural is your only thread to the living.”

Chris nods, sitting up in his seat. You regret to find that it doesn’t make you want to straddle him any less than before. 

 “I can understand that, I just don’t know what that has to do with me. I swear I had no reason to summon anyone from any realm or world or wherever the fuck these things come from.” His voice wavers with sincerity, eyes distressed with confusion. He takes a second to breathe in deeply, trying to ground himself, only to clench his jaw, never exhaling. “I just want my life back,” he mutters. 

Me too , you think as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

While your mother discouraged you from being yourself, and so-called friends betrayed you, there was a life back between the Mountains of Cleo that was waiting for you to reach your full potential. Working alongside the greatest witches of the century, charting stars and researching the full scope of potential power within the moon, you were on track to finally securing a position within the Arcane Court , and earning the respect of your family for once. 

You wish to return to that moment before everything had shattered around you. Work was stolen, lies were told and reputations were ruined. You never thought you'd be forced to defend yourself against people you loved, people you considered your found family. However, you did expect your biological family to believe the worst about you. 

Looking back at Chris, you notice he seems lost in his own thoughts too, gazing at the polished hardwood floors aimlessly. His explanation seems genuine and you really do believe him. He seemed to have the world at his fingertips, on the cusp of achieving all his dreams, before his life ended. 

He suddenly meets your gaze. The angle of his head blends his brown eye into the darkness, the silver one gleaming brightly in contrast. You know you should be scared, and you try to find a reason to feel that way, looking for even the faintest hint of danger. Instead, honesty greets you. If you hadn’t known he was a vampire, you would have assumed he was human from that look alone. 

“I want to help you figure out what happened,” you announce. 

Chris blinks at you. “What?”

“Vampires are made by demons,” you repeat. “If you are a vampire, then you were made. And if you didn’t bind yourself into a contract, someone else must have done so on your behalf. You could be in danger, could even be hexed. I want to help you find out what’s going on.”

His throat bobs, brows knit and he licks his lips before asking, “Why would you help me again?”

“I’m curious,” you shrug. And when his stare does not waver, you add, “And this is the longest I have spoken to someone other than a bird in the last ten years, so I might as well make the most of it before sundown.”

At that, Chris smiles. You notice he has a way of making it look so easy, that gentle, boyish smile. It’s full of intrigue and amusement and even admiration as his mismatched eyes twinkle with delicate notions of mischief. 

“I’m going to look into making another salve for some of your scars,”you say, standing from your seat. “The crows will be back with your clothes soon. You can go up to the bathroom and shower in the meantime, if you’d like I mean.”

Chris stands with you, glancing at the stairs. “Thanks,” he murmurs as if he doesn’t trust his voice. 

You ignore the heavy emotion laced in his tone, to save him the embarrassment, and continue, “It’s the third door on the right. The house will lead you.” 

As if on cue, you hear the soft echo of shutting doors and the whispering squeak of a single door opening. 

Chris’s ears twitch at the sound. He swallows thickly and gives you another nod of gratitude before heading up the stairs. You watch his back flex as he rolls his shoulders back. Now that you are going to help him, you really need to stop practically panting after him. The last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable in a tiny house he can’t leave for the next twelve hours. 

Letting out a heavy breath, you make your way to the kitchen and wave all your relevant books on burns, salves and blood-beings towards you. But the distant spray of the shower rattles your focus, plaguing you with images of his naked body caught between water and steam. Shaking your head, you force him out of your thoughts.

You have work to do– a purpose to finally follow.  And you won’t be deterred.

Despite the brightness of your flowy white dress, which cinches at your waist and beautifully accentuates your curves, your little cottage is a sanctuary of moody shades and warm textures. Chris surveys the polished dark wood floors, adorned with a large, red rug that captivates his attention, on his way towards the stairs. A piece of onyx fur casually drapes over the exotic rug, adding an extra layer of softness beneath his cold feet. Leafy green plants cascade from the ceiling and trail their long vines over the edges of the shelves. They bring a subtle sense of  life to the space, even in such dim lighting. The deep violet walls bring out the vivid colours of the flowers—magenta, indigo, and plum. He assumes, based on your determined personality, that each bundle of petals serves some sort of purpose. Between flickering candles, well-worn books, and vials of mysterious substances, you've crafted a harmonious blend of oak table sets and plush, comfortable seating, creating an inviting atmosphere that feels entirely your own– warm and beautiful.

As Chris enters your bathroom, he finds that it is no different. Only, instead of a cosy ambiance of lived-in comfort, you’ve created a refreshing forest oasis. Dark green tiles line the walls, casting the room in deep, earthy hues. The floor is a mosaic of midnight green and jade patterns that seem to shift with the light, an intricate dance of natural tones underfoot. From above, more plants with long, draping vines hang over the obsidian sink, suspended in delicate macrame nets that sway gently with each movement in the room. Chris’s throat dries at the swan faucet poised elegantly above the sink, its neck curved in a graceful arc. In the corner, the shower nestles like a hidden grotto, glossy tiles and rainfall shower head turning it into a misty forest retreat, with aged brass fixtures catching the light. And finally, his gaze drifts to the grand, black bear claw tub—a magnificent centrepiece that seems plucked from a woodland dream.

He swallows thickly, inhaling the subtle scents of eucalyptus and lavender. Upon his exhale, the shower head turns on. He peers around the bathroom again, wondering if the house is watching him. When only the steady spray of the shower echoes against the dimly candlelit walls, Chris rolls his shoulders back and takes a step further into the room. 

The door clicks shut on its own.

Chris shakes off his uneasiness and drops the blanket from his waist. He’s not sure why, but his hands shake as he steps under the shower. A part of him hopes to feel stark cold, just as the ocean was a couple of hours ago. But the water is…water– Chris cannot feel much of a temperature, even with litres of human blood spreading through his body. Still, the strong pressure beating down his head, shoulders and back ease the tension in his once wounded muscles. 

Suddenly, the water stings with the faintest hint of coolness. It gets colder and colder, nearly replicating the frostiness of the morning sea, before Chris realises that the house is adjusting the temperature for him.

“This is good,” he mutters, tipping his head back. 

The house slightly warms the water, silently asking if he’s sure. 

“I like it cold,” Chris reassures. A ghost of a smile hovers over his full lips. He wonders if you put the house up to this or if it is simply trying to make him feel welcome. Either way, he’s grateful for the consideration. 

Consideration . Chris ponders over the word, mulling over every syllable, every decision you’ve made while he was unconscious. You’re a witch with angelic intentions, that much seems to be clear.  But he still cannot help wondering what it was that made you consider saving him? He’s just a stranger, afterall. No, he’s a demon . And yet, you brought him into your home, created salves and offered him jars of blood. 

Why do you have stores of human blood, anyway? Is it part of your practice as a blood-witch? Do you conjure spells that include elements of blood? Or do you merely harvest litres of it like a collector of sorts?

Questions lap round and round his mind as he reaches for your honey-infused shampoo. It smells faintly of your wild, flowery scent. Chris cannot help his smirk at subtle notions of rainfall and sage amidst that lavender. With a playful smile and inquisitive, bold eyes, you are the epitome of life and purity– and you smell like it too. 

He leans into the faint scent as he lathers his seasalt drenched hair with the silky, sweet soap. After rinsing the suds out, he grabs the matching conditioner and finds it is heavily imprinted with your scent. Perhaps you use it more often, or in larger quantities than the shampoo, but Chris is not all that curious why. He continues to lean into it, moaning softly as he combs it through his slightly curled strands. 

You’re incredibly enchanting, and Chris wonders if you’re aware of that. From the sway of your hips to the glint of intrigue in your alluring gaze, you are a vision of beauty. You radiate confidence, even when you’re perplexed and unsure. You stand in your own light, take control of a room and demand answers. Had Chris met you in college, between frat parties or music classes, he is certain he would have pursued you. Bossy, bratty, brazen, you command attention within a few words and a firm tone. And when he tested your limits, correcting your ordering tone with him in the living room, and you yielded to his tug of power, he swears his cock twitched. 

Maybe eight years of solitude has made him desperate, or the near-death experience has renewed his connection to the living, but Chris cannot deny that he wants you. He scrubs his body now and imagines your hands over his chest, along the width of his shoulders and trailing down his arms. He imagines your face inches from his and your warm breath fanning over his lips. He imagines your naked body, smirking when he recalls the way your gaze lingered over his in the kitchen. 

Do you like him too? Is that the real reason why you’re helping him?

A series of gentle taps rap at the door. 

Chris snaps his attention to the black wood. He focuses his enhanced hearing, hoping to pick up your heartbeat in the hall. Instead, a pair of rapid pumps and fluttering wings greet him. He assumes it’s the crows with his clothes and quickly rinses away the soap. 

The water shuts off as he steps back out into the bathroom. A soft, grey towel hovers in front of him. 

Chris smiles at the ceiling. “Thanks,” he says, accepting the towel and wrapping it around his waist. As he makes his way to the door, another smaller towel gently lands on his head. Chris chuckles and ruffles the soft cotton through his clean hair. 

The door opens for him as he approaches it. 

I can get used to this . 

His clothes lay in a pile on the floor, wet and littered with sand. Looking up at the house, Chris asks, “Um, can you do me a quick favour?” 

The candles momentarily shine brighter in reply. 

Chris bites his lip. He glances back at the shower, realising that the house has already done so much for him. He might be pushing his luck with another request. But then the lights shine again, as if reassuring him that it’s okay to ask for more. 

Throat bobbing, Chris asks, “Could you help me clean my clothes?” 

A wicker basket emerges from a door down the hall. It hops over to Chris from side to side, in a manner he can only describe as gleeful. Once in front of him, it shakes as though it is asking him to drop his clothes into the hamper. Chris tentatively bends down and tosses the sandy clothes in. The basket returns to its spot, disappearing behind its door, cheerful and almost giddy. 

Chris smiles to himself. The house must have your personality, or perhaps just aspects of it– playful, helpful, thoughtful. You bleed into every crevice of the warm cottage and Chris, for the first time since turning, is delighted. 

A quiet chirp from the crows pulls his attention back to them. They caw a couple more times before flying over to the edge of the stairs. 

Chris wonders if they are asking him to follow them, looking between them and the cold bathroom behind him. 

They caw again, hopping in place. 

He glances down at his towel and raises a brow. “I’m not really–” he starts, only for the crows to cut him off. 

One of them, Poe perhaps, lets out a long, almost exasperated squawk that leaves no room for refusal.

With a roll of his eyes, Chris follows after the birds. “Alright, alright,” he sighs. “Stop nagging me.”

The crows fly down the stairs and into the kitchen. Chris takes his time, following the scent of wild lavender and sage. He barely makes it to the archway when he sees your dress flowing around you with every step around the kitchen.

You’ve pulled your hair up, neck on full display. Moving around the dark kitchen, you trade your attention between a hovering book and your breakfast on the stove, all while sneaking sips from your steaming cup of tea. Chris detects notes of chai, cinnamon and anise stars amongst hearty eggs, and fresh tomatoes and chives. 

It takes you a minute, but you soon notice his tall figure entering the small space. Your eyes don’t remain on his for too long before trailing down his chest and lingering around his waist. He’s starting to realise that you seem to have a habit of that and it doesn’t bother him at all. If anything, he finds himself puffing out his chest and tightening the tension around his stomach under your watchful gaze. 

“They haven’t returned with your clothes?” 

Fuck, that voice– light, airy and sweet. Chris averts his gaze and bites on the inside of his cheek to hold back a groan. 

Clearing his throat, he replies,“No, they did. They’re just dirty. The house is cleaning them for me.”

You flash him a knowing smile and Chris swears his breath would hitch if he would breathe. “Yeah, it likes feeling useful,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your tea. You then nod at one of the indigo stools before your gleaming marble-topped island in the centre of the kitchen. 

Chris takes a seat, ensuring his towel stays put as he adjusts it around his spreading legs. As you turn back to your black iron stove, Chris takes a moment to really take in the kitchen. 

With deep crimson walls that cradle the space in a comforting embrace, the space excludes warmth. The soft candlelights that hover above cast playful shadows on the deep charcoal countertops, almost mirroring the crackle and pop of the hearth in the living room. Hanging between the candles are clusters of copper pots and pans, adding notions of rustic charm. Chris then realises that this might be the first room in the cottage without plants dangling from the ceiling or over surfaces. Instead, the shelves are lined with jars of spices and herbs and… body parts. He catches pickled eyeballs, dusty toes, fingers–some with matted fur–, and about three cases of teeth. 

“They were donated,” you clarify. 

Chris blinks his attention back to you, finding a guilty smile playing on your lips. 

“Well,” you start again, “ Most of it was donated.”

He teasingly raises his brows at you, suppressing his own smile. “I suppose that makes it okay then,” he jokes, subtly testing your boundaries again. 

There is a flicker of surprised intrigue in your gaze. “It seemed okay when it was saving your life,” you shoot back with the same level of teasing wit. 

Chris cannot help the excitement in his chest. Do you know how exhilarating you are? Is that why you keep staring at him with those enchantingly mischievous eyes?

He bites his lip, conceding to your wit. “Learn anything new,” he asks, nodding to the levitating book.  

You plate your breakfast with a sigh. The stove shuts off on its own as you round the island and take a seat next to him. Chris stiffen, adjusting his towel around his crotch. The once floating book rests on the countertop between the both of you. 

“See for yourself,” you reply before eating.

Chris notes the title: Origins of Vampires, Bloodsuckers, and Incubi , then scans the first few paragraphs. Besides accounts for the first sighting of vampires and the fact that they are apparently extremely lustful beings, it does not inform Chris of anything he does not already know from you. A deal needs to be made with the devil, his soul must have had to be traded as payment, and his body begins to reject all things human.

Furrowing his brows and sucking in his cheeks with a little hiss, Chris shifts forward in his seat to get a better look at the book. There is an extremely long passage about consistent erections, and the next page is filled with a list of the best hideouts to escape the sun during the day.  Chris is more concerned with the inconsistency of the author than the fact that he has yet to get an erection since he turned years ago.

“Nothing new,” you finally reply after a few bites of your food. “Nothing useful either.”

“May I?” Chris asks, reaching for the edge of the page. 

He flips the page when you nod. The list of hideouts takes up the next three pages and Chris resists the urge to roll his eyes. Information about vampiric cycles, peak slumber and feasting times, and tips on how to hunt fill the remaining pages on vampires before moving onto bloodsuckers and incubi. Again, the information is not anything Chris is not already aware of from the sheer experience of being undead for nearly a decade. He knows that around noon, his body tends to shut down and he seeks the darkest, coldest part of the basement to lay still and close his eyes. He’s not exactly asleep but he’s also not exactly awake either. The stuff about peak feasting times does not really apply to him. Just like when he was human, Chris is always hungry and ready to consume something. 

With a heavy sigh, he shuts the book. “That was a waste of time,” he mumbles as you finish your breakfast. 

You wave your empty plate and cup off to the sink, then shrug at him. “Well, we now know this book is useless,” you say, voice light with hope. “We can cross it off our list.” 

Chris raises a brow. “How many more books are on this list of yours?”

Your gaze is shifty and Chris starts to get nervous. He murmurs your name carefully, merely trying to get you to be honest, but then he notices the way you tremble at the sound of his low, deep voice. He can’t help the smirk tugging on his lips. 

“Cold?” he teases before he can stop himself.

Your eyes meet his with careful conviction. You lick your lips, as if debating how sharp your response should be. Attention flitting down to his chest momentarily, you finally reply, “Not at all.” 

With that, you wave off the useless book and summon two more. One is for salves and creams, the other is an encyclopaedia of vampiric traits and rituals. It sounds just as useless as the last one but if it’s on your list, Chris is willing to indulge. 

“You can get started on this,” you push the encyclopaedia towards him, “while I look into treating those scars.” 

“I don’t mind the scars,” he shrugs. “They kinda make me feel human.”

When you meet his eyes this time, your gaze is not filled with caution or calculated intrigue, instead they round with empathy. The sincere reaction triggers another pressing question Chris cannot seem to shake.

 “Why are you here?” 

Your face folds in confusion. “What?”

“You’re here on this haunted island all alone. Why? Don’t you have a coven or something?”

You pause for longer than usual and Chris worries if he used the wrong term, or perhaps merely asked a more personal question than you’re willing to answer. 

But then you clear your throat and adjust your posture in your seat. Staring down at the counter, you let out a heavy sigh and say, “I did and now I don’t.” Again, you take a beat lick your lips. “I wasn’t wanted there, so I needed to go.”

Chris scoffs. He doesn’t register the bluntness of his gestures until you glare at him.

“Have something to add?” you question, that usually sweet voice of yours now sharpened. 

It really shouldn’t but the sharpness makes his body buzz with excitement. Chris is fascinated by your darker edges. They contrast so beautifully against your usual lightness, enchanting him with supple seduction. 

“I think that’s bullshit,” he replies. 

“I think the fact that you just so happened to lose track of time is bullshit,” you remark. “But I have the common courtesy to keep my rude opinions to myself.”

“And you’re doing a great job,” Chris can’t help but tease. “But I was referring to the fact that you would ever be unwanted. If you weren’t such a little…” Chris trails off just to watch your nostrils flare and smirks, “ witch , you would have known that.”

A flicker of regret flashes in your gaze, but it doesn’t take long to harden again with a clench of your jaw.

“Maybe you should’ve added that sooner.”

“Maybe you should’ve given me the chance to.”

“How is any of this my fault?” you ask, voice still irritated but a chuckle manages to slip past your sweet lips. 

Chris smiles at the girly sound, suddenly feeling… warm?  

“I never said it was,” he answers. He keeps his voice tempered and gentle, watching as you bite your lip again. 

There is a shift in the air. Chris catches the sudden thickness of your scent, the newfound depth it carries and you shift in your seat again. Furrowing his brows, he leans forward to hold your gaze and asks, “You okay?” 

You nod, yet shoot up from your seat. You push that book towards him again and point to the living room. “The house made you a little nook by the fire. Try reading as much as you can. The sooner we find out about you, the sooner you can return home.” Your voice sounds as sweet as it normally does, but carries a certain weight to it. Chris has trouble placing it as you continue, “If you get thirsty or need anything else, just ask the house. It’s happiest when it can provide.”

Inhaling sharply, Chris collects the book and stands. He holds his towel in place with his other hand, the same way he did with the blanket not too long ago, and starts to make his way to the living room. When he gets to the archway, he pauses to glance over his shoulder.

You’re still watching him, captivated by the broadness of his back. 

“I think the house takes after you,” he says, turning to face you. “You seem content providing as well. So, I really can’t imagine anyone not wanting you around.”

You shift your weight and clench your jaw. With a thick swallow, you shake your head. “You don’t know me,” you mutter, face contorting with shame.

“And you don’t know me,” he shrugs. “But here we are, a vampire and a blood-witch. Is that a common pair amongst the supernatural?”

You shake your head. 

Chris smiles. “And yet you saved me. And you continue to help me. And I might not know you the way the house or crows do,” he chuckles, watching a smile play on your lips, “but I know that I can comfortably go into the next room and not have to worry about you suddenly opening the window and burning me alive. And I think that’s a good sign when you’re getting to know someone, yeah?”

With a roll of your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest. Chris does his best to ignore the way they press together and jut out. “Your bar is way too low for strangers, Christopher.”

He tongues his cheek. “ Chris ,” he corrects. 

A mischievous smile spreads across your soft features and Chris wonders if he may have given you some ammunition to tease him later.

“Happy reading, Chris ,” you say. 

The way you emphasise his name almost makes him shiver. 

“Happy conjuring, little witch.”

A renewed sense of pride blooms in his still chest at the way you shyly avert your gaze upon hearing your new nickname. Chris thinks it has a nice ring to it, and you look absolutely adorable when you’re flustered. He allows himself one last once over of your curves, then pulls himself towards the living room.

True to your words, the house has provided a long, wide chaise of midnight blue velvet. It sits before the fireplace with a soft amber blanket draped over the back. Chris settles into the plush cushions, sinking into comfort and props his feet up. He throws the blanket over his waist to replace his towel and asks the house to dim the fire. 

Flipping open the book, Chris starts to learn more about himself, pushing every tempting thought of you out of his mind.

Two weeks go by in a blur and you find that you are no less infatuated by Chris than when you first met him.

 He has such an easy way about him, smiling effortlessly. His eyes are still mismatched as if the sun had burned the vampiric silver of his left iris into his retina. No amount of blood has reversed the damage. However, you don’t mind. In fact, you find yourself feeling relieved when his eyes remain the same pair of brown and grey every time he takes a sip of animal blood. You like the twinkle of mischief that seems to glow so brightly amongst the two colours. Its allure is deliciously dangerous with promises of subtle destruction. You especially enjoy how they squint when he laughs or smiles with his white teeth, still gleaming with joy and lightness. 

You’ve gotten used to his presence, and you think that maybe he has gotten used to yours too. Just two nights ago, he finally told you why he was out so late the night you met. You instantly empathised with him, knowing all too well how powerful the yearning for connection can be. It’s the reason you promised to help again, desperate for a semblance of real, tangible interactions too. 

“And your parents?” you asked, after he told you all about how he hides out in his friends’ basements. “Do they know?”

His jaw set. “They think I died,” he sighs. “Well, they think I’m missing, but it’s been eight years and they bought a headstone so…”

Regret tightened in your chest. “I’m so–”

“My little brother took my old room,” he continued, cutting you off . “I snuck in one night, just to… see, I guess? He still has some of my stuff there, all dusty and untouched. He’s so big now, almost as tall as me,” he chuckled, a small smile settling on his lips. “He plays baseball though. I don’t think I’ve seen any of them go near a swimming pool in years. ”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. You wanted to just swallow your previous words, the regret of mentioning his parents wrapping tighter around your heart. 

“My mum saw me once,” he said, finally meeting your gaze. A muted sadness greets you, but his little smile remains on those pink-stained lips. “She was bringing groceries in one night and caught me staring behind some tree. She dropped the bag and called out to my dad. I ran before either of them could see me again,” he paused to swallow.“ I still can’t get the sound of her sobs out of my head.”

You blink the memory away, pulling your dusky plum coloured comforter up to your chin. A part of you wishes you had asked him why he never went back to his parents or let them believe he’d gone missing. Clearly, the thought of them moving on without him still weighs heavy on his heart. But you couldn’t find your word at the time, blinking back tears as he hung his head and spoke so quietly. Besides, you are sure, based on his caring, selfless personality, he likely thought he was doing them a favour by shielding them from his new reality. He was practically brimming with self hatred when you met. 

And you realised, in that vulnerable moment, it was never about feeling the sun or the cold or even the sensation of swimming again. It has always been about being human . Chris craves his humanity more than he values his life. You both know that he was well aware of when the sun would rise, that he fought through his inherent fear of it for the chance to feel near-human again. He even keeps his remaining sun-scars and winks his mismatched eyes because they are consequences of feeling that pain. And as you read more and more about vampires together, the hindrance of potentially accessing his full abilities does not surprise you. To his core, Chris is human, so he is constantly rejecting his vampiric turn. 

That realisation shifted your focus last night. You moved from books about vampires to those about demons. Flipping through pages and pages of information, you found multiple passages about soul-trading. You discovered that some demons demand pure souls in addition to the ones they have already swindled from their summors. This detail, likely lost in the fine-print of most deals, implements a vampiric gene into the summors’ genetics. The variant remains dormant, passing through the bloodline until it finally finds a pure soul to claim.

Chris still can’t believe that one of his ancestors would stoop so low, but you find that reaction in itself is just another testament of his purity.

Smiling to yourself at the thought of him, you stare at your star-speckled ceiling. You enchanted it to reflect the night sky on your first night at Crow’s Nest . Actually, you had enchanted the ceiling of the living room, having slept down there until you were able to slowly build your little cottage and refine your new sanctuary. You were terrified of being found and snatched back for sentencing by the Arcane Court. You’re well aware that blood-witches don’t simply break blood bonds and live to tell the tale. You remember using whatever magic you had at the time to unshackle yourself from the bounds of your coven, hop on your broom with your life magically crammed into a knapsack, and escape into the same dark night.

And as you lie here now, sinking into your silky sheets, you find that staring at a shimmering night sky can still ease your nerves all the same. You try to identify constellations and search for the moon between the clouds. You curse under your breath when you finally catch a glimpse of its glow– waxing gibbous . 

Tomorrow is the full moon. 

You let out a shaky breath, attempting to get lost in the stars again, but it’s no use. All you can think about is that damned elixir. 

“I found something,” you muttered to Chris.

He laid in his little nook by the dimmed fire, one hand clutching a book and the other folded behind his head. Peering over at you, a little smirk tugs on his lips. “A new blood recipe?” he asked, knowing you have been testing out some new blends of spices in his blood. 

You shake your head and reply, “A solution . ”

You feel your skin grow hot from the memory of having to explain to him what this solution entails.

At its core, it is simply a recipe for vampiric vitality. And after hearing about his parents and how they have tried to move on from losing him, how he had tried to move on, you remember feeling hopeful. Maybe this could be the key to reclaim his life, to possibly see them again without shame.

However, the summary still gives you pause. It reads:

“The Elixir of the Damned is a rare, potent potion crafted to primarily shield vampires, and other sun-sensitive creatures, from the deadly effects of daylight. By harnessing the mystical properties of a blood-witch's full-moon blood, the elixir enables these creatures to walk under the sun without harm, preserving their strength and powers. Beyond sunlight protection, the elixir grants a surge of energy, reduces the need for frequent feeding, shortens sleep cycles, and reverses their natural nocturnal schedule.

The thick, midnight violet elixir is a luminescent liquid concoction of moonlight essence, ground sage, sunroot and the dust of two diamonds: obsidian and sunstone. The mixture must be thoroughly stirred and refrigerated for a minimum of twelve hours before use. Upon a full-moon, the elixir must be mixed with the menstrual blood of a blood-witch and consumed immediately. For best results, pour and harvest the menstrual blood directly from the source.”

You have the stupid thing memorised, having read it countless times, before finally telling Chris. Though he can’t breathe, you’re certain his breath hitched at the explanation. You remember parting your lips to further explain when he suddenly agreed. 

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” he argued. “I’m willing to keep it strictly professional if you are.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding. “Yeah,” you found yourself replying. “I can do the same.”

And yet you lay here, naked and squirming at the thought of his mouth between your legs because he insisted, and you quote, “If we’re gonna do it, we might as well do it right.”

Do me right , you wanted to reply. Just bend me over the couch and do me right now . 

Instead, you continuously agree and nod and pretend that your arousal isn’t sticking between your thighs as your clit throbs for attention. 

You cup your crotch now, unable to take it anymore. He’s fucking hot– so fucking hot . You have been trying not to stare but he wears these tight tank tops that showcase his muscular arms all the fucking time. You mentally curse his stupid friends for sending such revealing clothes through the crows. He sent them a letter with Poe a day after you agreed to help them and you wonder if he specifically requested these pieces or if this is his usual style. 

Either way, you cannot stop staring. Every ridge and crevices of his buff chest and toned stomach is outlined, completely captivating your attention. You are constantly trying to maintain eye contact, but even that feels too much sometimes. He is always teasing and joking with you, gazing at you with such consuming warmth, you cannot help but feel hot . 

A little gasp escapes you as you spread your legs and drench your fingers with your arousal. Sticky, wet, you need him. Maybe it’s been too long without a good fuck, or you are simply obsessed, but it really doesn’t matter. You need a release right now or you might not make it through the night. 

You start slow, rubbing circles over your needy clit. It doesn’t take long for you to overheat, however. So you pause your movements to shove your blanket off.  Now fully naked and exposed to your cold room, you return your hand between your legs. 

A wet squelching sounds as you rub and rub your fingers round and round. You test out rhythms, squirming under your desperate touch–slow–fast–slow–fast, and bite back a whimper. 

What would Chris do, you cannot help wondering. 

Administering featherlight touches, you know he’d play with you to start. He’d keep his pressure light and quick, wanting to watch you chase after his hand after every fleeting touch. Then, you push down harshly on your clit and bite into your lip harder to hold back a moan. You just know he’d be rough too, forcefully pressing down until he hears you whine his name. 

“Chris,” you let yourself whisper. “Right there, baby.”

A quiet moan slips out with your words and you’re not completely mad about it. It was silent enough and you’re certain he’s too busy sipping on the warmed seven herb spiced blood you left out for him to pay much attention to you right now. 

As much as you enjoy imagining him playing with you, you cannot stand the anticipation anymore. Your needy hole clenches repeatedly, aching to be filled. You shakily gasp and decide to fully give into your desire. Grabbing your wand, you place the handle against your clit and will it to vibrate. You use your other hand to finger yourself, shoving three ambitious digits in. 

“ Oh!”  

You bite your lip, panic sprouting in your chest at the sudden spike in volume. Glancing at the door, you’re relieved to find it still shut. You lay back against your pillow and pick up your pace. He’d be unforgiving. He’d be rough and reckless.

Your body trembles at the thought. 

“Chris,” you whisper into the room. “Please don’t stop fucking me like that.”

Eyes fluttering shut, you imagine him leering over you, smirking and groaning. You imagine his strong frame ramming into you, his relentless grip keeping you in place. Would he want you to hold his gaze? Or would he bury his face in the crook of your neck to kiss and nibble on?

The pleasure only increases. You tense up. The vibrations rumbling from the hilt of your mahogany wand intensifies. Your fingers eagerly move in and out, tight walls closing in on them. 

“ You’re gonna make me cum,” you mutter, breathless and whiny. 

Cum for me , baby , a whisper of a voice orders. Be a good little witch and cum all over my fingers .

The sound is so deep and husky, but also murmurous and hazy. If you had time to focus on it, you wouldn’t have automatically assumed it was internal and perhaps investigated. But the constant pleasure is all too consuming. Working you closer and closer to your release, you cannot register the source of any sound besides that of your fast fingers and vibrating wand.

That pretty pussy looks so delicious . 

Your orgasm catches you off guard, suddenly rippling through you. You squeal lifting your head from your pillow to almost hunch inwards and cum. 

“Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris,” you whisper between whimpers and you rapidly draw every last surge of arousal out. “Oh my god ,” you heave, tossing your wand aside. The stimulation is nearly agonising when paired with your still moving fingers. 

After a few more thrusts, you lay back into your bed, heaving. Your hand slides out and up towards your clit. A single brush of contact makes your body tremble. You retract your hand all together, swallowing a moan. Your legs come together, eyes droop from exhaustion and fatigue. 

You have no idea how you’re going to remain “professional” tomorrow. The sheer thought of him down there coaxed one of your most powerful orgasms. How will you be able to keep your moans at bay, or your body from rolling into his mouth? 

Click.

You snap your attention to your door. It’s shut. Holding your breath, you try to listen for footsteps. When that proves useless, you squint at the gap between the door and floor for movements of shadow. Still, silent, the hallway is empty. 

With a shake of your head, you rest back into your pillow and wave yourself clean. You then tug your comforter back over your spent body and shut your eyes. You just need to get through tomorrow. Once the elixir and ritual is complete, he can return home and you won’t have to see him until your next cycle. 

Chris stands in your room, arms crossed over his chest. It looks warmer under candlelights than it did last night beneath glimmering stars. Unlike the darkness of the bathroom, or warmth of the living room and kitchen, your room is a collection of cool tones, invoking quiet serenity. The walls are a hazy blue, trimmed with crown moulding around the baseboards and ceiling. One wall of the room is lined with shelves upon shelves of books, plants and a plethora of magical objects, like stones, crystal balls, and the occasional skull. A chestnut vanity, large wardrobe and oval mirror sit on his left side by an open window. Sheer violet curtains dance with the gentle wind. 

Underfoot, a thick, handknitted rug of pewter, amethyst and onyx yarn stretches over polished, dark walnut floors. Chris curls his toes into it, attempting to ground himself, as his eyes follow you towards your four-poster bed. It must be a queen– rather fitting for you– since it takes up a substantial amount of space in the centre of the room. The gauzy mauve curtains surrounding your bed part as you approach it. Your matching greyish-plum comforter pulls back, as if welcoming you to silky starlight silver sheets. You wave it back into place then turn to him.  

“It’s almost time,” you say. 

The slight tremor in your voice draws Chris back to the events he witnessed last night. You keep talking now, gesturing to your bed with one hand, while clutching onto the small vial of a deep, inky violet elixir in the other. He sees your pretty mouth moving, but does not register your words. All he hears are your delicate, fragile moans. 

Chris didn’t mean to linger or leer last night. He doesn’t usually go to the second floor when you go to bed, not wanting to disturb you. But he had just come back from collecting some ingredients for the elixir around the island, heard you calling his name and got curious. Once he realised what you were doing, he just couldn’t tear himself away. He remembers the way you squirmed and begged. He remembers the way you worked your fingers in and out of your perfect, needy pussy. He remembers how you held your wand, the one laying on your nightstand right now, and wonders how often you use it for that purpose. How often do you use it thinking about him ?

“Did you hear me?” you ask.

Chris’s eyes widen. “What?”

You tilt your head and give him a serious look. “Chris, do you still want to do this?” 

“Of course.”

“Listen, if you’re having second thoug–”

Chris quickly cuts you off with an urgent shake of his head. “No, no, I want this,” he quickly reassures. The eagerness of his statement dawns on him the moment the words leave his lips. Chris immediately tries to save himself from further embarrassment, adding,  “I want to feel normal again.”

You nod, inhaling deeply.

Chris’s attention flickers down to your full chest, watching it rise under your silky black robe then fall as you exhale. He meant to meet your gaze again, but he couldn’t stop himself from taking in your frame. From the curves of your waist to the roundness of your stomach and thickness of your thighs, you are a vision of temptation. 

Your fingers trace the ribbon of your robe, drawing his focus back to your face. You bite on your lips, nervous eyes peering at him cautiously. 

“Are you okay with this?” Chris asks. “It’s never too late to change your mind.”

You swallow thickly. “I want you to feel normal too,” you replied, lips slighting relaxing into a soft smile. “It’s not about changing my mind. I just…” you trail off with a sigh. 

Chris remains silent, giving you the space to collect your thoughts. 

Rolling your shoulders back, you hold his gaze and confess,“I just haven’t been naked in front of someone else in a really long time.”

One of the things Chris has come to find so admirable about you is how unapologetically honest you are about yourself. You do not mince words or circle difficult topics. You stand your ground and say what you mean, uttering every syllable like you are reciting a declaration of love, sincere and unwavering. He catches the way you fist your hands to keep them from trembling and he finds that defiance all the more endearing. 

He tries to bite back a smile at how strong and cute you’re being. Fuck, he’s wholeheartly ready to devour you and show you just how wonderful you are. 

Without another word, he tugs the hem of his shirt up and over his head. He can’t help smirking when you gasp at his bare chest. He’s caught you staring enough time to know you like what you see. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulls them down with his briefs and steps out of them, fully naked in front of you. 

“Now, you’re not alone,” he smiles. 

Eyes widen, mouth slightly agape, you slowly drag your gaze down his frame. You shift your weight and he catches the way your legs press tightly together. The image of them spread and glistening with your arousal flashes between blinks. 

You take another deep breath then untie the knot of your robe. The delicate silk slips off your shoulders, revealing the epitome of supple seduction and plump perfection. 

Chris, already salivating, swallows. Your gaze trails back down to his crotch and he’s certain you are seeing exactly how he truly feels. His cock hardened last night the moment he saw you all needy and whiny. He tried to jerk himself off, hoping to soften again but failed– even after cumming three times.

“Does it bother you?” He gently asks, not moving to hide his erection yet. 

You shake your head. 

“I can put something back on if it does,” he tries again, wanting to be sure you know he is not ashamed of his desire. You’re incredibly hot and you must know it too with the way you constantly tease him with low-cut, form-fitting dresses. It’s partially why he asked Jisung to send him tank-tops and sweatpants when crafting a letter for Poe to send. 

“It’s fine, Chris,” you whisper.

His jaw clenches at the memory of your whiny voice saying his name. 

A little smile plays on your lips as you toss him half a shrug and add, “It was bound to happen at some point tonight. Might as well get over the awkwardness now.”

Chris glares, but the smirk on his face does not hint towards conviction. “Oh, yeah? Get this kinda reaction often, little witch?” 

You bite your lip then teasingly quirk a brow. “Why,” you shoot back. “Jealous?”

He tongues his cheek. “I just wanna know how many members are part of your little fan club.”

You turn towards the bed, displaying your round rear, and reply, “There’s room for one more.”

Chirs suppresses a groan. He tightens his jaw and follows after you. As you lie back into your propped, plush pillows, Chris meets your eyes. All notions of uncertainty have been replaced by carefree mischief. He sits on his knees in front of your legs and offers a small smile. 

“I already recited the spell,” you say, holding out the vial. “All you have to do now is pour it over me and… harvest the blood.”

Chris takes the tiny glass bottle, nodding. “If you ever need me to stop–” he starts, only for you to cut him off with the spread of your legs. 

A richer, more musky aroma of your usual rainwater, sage and wild lavender scent instantly overwhelms his senses. Laced with your menstrual blood, it evokes the earthiness of damp soil and the sweetness of blooming flowers. 

His jaw goes slack, eyes darkening. He can feel his fangs poke out and involuntarily takes a long, slow breath. His lungs do not work, heart still and cold, but he swears he feels them filling from the sheer smell of you. 

Your soft voice cuts through his primal desires, as you whisper,“I trust you.”

With that, Chris uncorks the vial. His free hand settles on your thigh. He smiles to himself at the softness, having only imagined the feeling of it for the last two weeks. He knew you’d feel so delicate, rubbing his hand up and down your warm skin. 

He looks back at you and meets your confident gaze with a little nod, confirming that he’s ready too. Then, he brings the tiny glass bottle to your blood-glistening lips and pours the elixir. It looks a lot like violet-coloured lube and feels that way too as he uses his thumb to rub it around your pussy. 

Your hips stiffen, core clenches at the sudden sensation and Chris darts his attention up to your face again, concerned. However, tentative notions of pleasure greet him. Your brows furrows, and eyes flicker with shy delight. You bite your lip, and that’s when Chris catches the rapid pounding of your heart. 

As he continues to rub the elixir over your clit then drag it down to circle your needy hole, Chris wonders if this is what you imagined him doing to you last night. 

“I think it’s good now,” you say, voice wavering. “We don’t have all night, you know?”

Chris smirks at your little joke. You have a tendency to be rather bossy and he’s been trying to subtly reign in your sassiness with challenging looks and sharper words every now and again. But then you go and test his patience with shit like this– speaking to him like he works for you. It excites and enrages him all at once. 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be taking that tone with me, little witch,” he warns, applying pressure with his thumb against your clit. 

Your breath hitches before you clamp a hand to your mouth. 

Chris stifles his laughter. You’re a good girl down to your core. You just need the right person to remind you of that sometimes. 

Now that you are behaving, Chris lowers himself towards your delicious pussy. You smell divine, leaking of blood and drenched in the glow of the elixir. He cannot hold back any longer upon another strong whiff. Tongue flat, he drags it between your lips with a deep, full-chested groan. He repeats the slow action again and again, lowering himself further against the bed until he’s lying down on his stomach. 

He pulls back to loop his arms under your thighs. Pulling the top part of your pussy up, he dives back in. You taste like the ocean breeze on a sweltering summer day, purely refreshing. His tongue circles around your lips and clit, gathering all the leaked blood, which adds a metalicy sweetness to your arousal. A part of him wishes he was able to taste you without the juicy influence of the elixir, wondering how the flavour of your blood would change. 

Chris tongues the entrance of your hole, hoping to ease you into the–what did you call it?– harvest?  

However, upon the first real sip of your menstrual blood, something profoundly primal snaps in the depths of his chest. Unbound by his inhibitions, he growls against your core and shoves his long, wet tongue deep into you. 

A tiny whimper cuts through the loud sound of his slurps, but Chris pays it no mind. He laps and laps tongue-fulls of your blood, swallowing with eager delight. His fingers press into your soft skin, still Chris does not worry about bruising you. Instead, he shakes his head and lets out a series of pleased groans. 

Your hips roll into his mouth and he welcomes the gesture with another slurp of your blood. He can feel the magical substance rush through his body, warming his once cold skin. Every swallow fills another organ and Chris is addicted to that rush of awakening nerves. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair, shoving his face further into your sex. Legs wrapping around his head, Chris is only just realising that you’ve been whining and moaning this entire time. He focuses his enhanced hearing on your fragile voice, humming approving groans. 

“Give it to me just like that,” you whimper. “Please, please , Chris.”

Again with those little demands , Chris thinks. At least you remembered to say please this time. 

A mixture of your arousal and blood pools at your entrance, drawing Chris back to his task. His vampiric senses igniting all over again, he does not attempt to hold back. In and out, he shoves his tongue between your tightening walls, gathering as much blood as he can. 

But, it’s not enough. His tongue is only collecting sips. Chris needs gulps . 

He adjusts his grip on your hips, now pressing you firmly into the mattress and latches his lips over your entrance. With a deep breath, Chris begins to suck. He suctions his mouth and siphones your blood out. He swallows mouthfuls of elixir tainted blood and arousal, mismatched eyes rolling back at the satisfaction of such unholy hunger. 

The more he draws, the darker you taste. Chris cannot describe it well, but he thinks it’s the taste of magic, fizzing on his tongue like sparkling water.

“ Oh, fuck ,” you cry, voice breaking as you cum.

A hint of lightness settles on his tongue upon sucking out your orgasm as well. Chris moans in delight, gulping down two more mouthfuls before finally pulling away with a wet pop .

Your legs are hyper-extended, trembling over his shoulders.

Chris glances up at you, curious to see if you’ll own the fact that you just came on his face or if you’ll get all shy and bashful. Your pleased features are laced with exhaustion as you pant. Tired eyes meeting his lustful ones, you quirk a brow. Chris licks his lips, taking the gesture as a silent question of if he is satisfied. 

Physically, Chris is full. He is not sure he can down even the tiniest of sips. Sexually, however, he is just getting started.

“You alright?” he asks, sitting himself up on his knees again. 

You nod, but Chris shakes his head. You know better than to respond like that , he thinks. 

“Talk to me, baby.”

The term of endearment was not intentional, but Chris also does not hate the way it sounds. It slipped out last night too as he talked you through your orgasm. He can tell from the way your lips part and eyes slightly widen that you’re waiting for him to correct himself, but he refuses to. Instead, he holds your eyes without a notion of panic or regret. 

“I’m okay,” you finally mutter between heavy breaths. “I…” you hesitate, attention flickering down to his crotch momentarily. “I need more.”

Chris smirks. “What do you say?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

Your lips quiver, desperation seeping into your gaze. “Please fuck me, Chris. No– don’t look at me like that. I know you want this too.”

Chris was trying to hide his smug smile, but upon your demand, he lets it take over his features. You’re a fucking brat, and he has extended the last of his generous patience. Before he can think twice, Chris smacks your sensitive pussy. 

“When,” he smacks it again, “are you,” smack , “going to fucking” smack , “learn?”

Your hips jolt up with every hit, moans trembling as they tumble from your beautiful lips. Your face is a crumpled mess of pleasure and pain, desperate eyes boring into his.

Cupping you with one hand and harshly rubbing, Chris places his other by your head and hovers over your shaking body. “Listen to me, little witch,” he whispers, nudging his bloody nose against yours. “If you talk to me like that again, like I’m your little pet , I will fuck you even after the sun comes up, do you understand?”

You nod eagerly. 

Chris tightens his grip on your crotch, baring his teeth with an annoyed growl. “Use your fucking words,” he orders. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply, voice quiet and meek. 

The little whimpers you subsequently let out don’t do much to ease the throb of his cock. In fact, they only intensify it. You sound like wounded prey and he’s tired of fighting against his instincts. He’s been stifling the beast inside for the last eight years, filling himself with self-loathing instead. He’s done hating the power, fully embracing his new supernatural form. 

Releasing his hold on your crotch, Chris immediately aligns and shoves himself between your walls. A loud hiss escapes his blood-dripping lips, fangs on full display, at the tight pressure around him. Fuck, if he hadn’t seen you skillfully fingering yourself last night, he would have believed you were a virgin.

You moan with him, clutching on his shoulders. “Oh, god ,” you groan, enchanting eyes fluttering shut. “ Fuck, fuck– Chris, you’re h-huge. What the actual fuck?”

Chris’s previously irritated resolve wavers upon your squealing voice. He pauses his shallow thrusts to give you time to adjust. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat as your nails dig into his warming flesh. “I-I know you need this too.”

Shifting down to his forearms, Chris buries his face in the crook of your neck, and fondly inhales your scent. “Don’t be sorry, baby,” he murmurs. “I waited two weeks for this. Another minute won’t make a difference.”

You let out a breathless giggle, wrapping your arms around his head. A delighted hum sounds from your lips and Chris feels the vibrations of it against his face. He smiles to himself before licking and kissing your delicate skin. 

Your heart is beating so fast. He can feel the thumping pounds against his tongue and can’t help but chuckle. Your skin suddenly grows hot and he realises he has embarrassed you. Yet, instead of pushing him off, you clench tighter around him. 

“Please don’t laugh at me,” you whine. 

Chris smirks at your tone and wording, glad to see you’re finally following his orders. Still, he decides to test it again, wondering if it’s just a fluke. 

“I’m not laughing at you, little witch,” he lies.

Instead of calling him out, you remain silent.

Chris pulls back to gauge your features. Though pouting, you refrain from glaring at him too hard. Filled with pride, Chris kisses your cheek, down to your jaw then up to your chin again. 

“Good girl,” he mutters once his lips are hovering over your mouth. 

Your gaze flits between his eyes and blood-stained lips. Chris makes the conscious choice not to kiss you, unsure if the taste of your menstrual blood will be as delicious to you as it is to him. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him anyway, panting beneath him even when he remains motionless inside you.

But then you simply arch your back, pushing your full breasts against him, and mutter, “I’m ready now.”

Chris dips his head back down to your neck. He kisses and sucks on your hot skin, gently thrusting into you. He takes his time, with his hips and lips, dragging the process out only to forcefully shove it back in. 

You’re already trembling, sweet voice hiccuping moans. Chris scratches his fangs over your collarbone just to hear you whimper his name. 

“Please, Chris,” you cry. 

He kisses the slightly wounded area and quietly chuckles to himself. “Do you need something, little witch?” he teasingly asks.

“F-faster, please?” you quickly ask. “I’m not telling. I’m asking– begging! Please, please , Chris!”

His cock twitches. He groans at the sound of your desperate, whiny voice, physically incapable of torturing you any longer. With supernatural speed, Chris’s hips snap into action. He thrusts harshly, fisting the sheets beneath you. The bed creaks and slams against the walls over and over again, overtaking the slapping sound of his hips meeting yours.

Your body shakes and jiggles under him, and he is obsessed with how amazing your skin feels rubbing against his. Your nails scratch at his back, before finally sinking into his shoulders. You brace yourself against him, the sounds of your broken, sobbing moans encouraging him to continue.

"You have no idea what your voice does to me,” Chris groans, lips smothered under your jaw. “I could listen to you all fucking night.”

Your legs wrap around his waist. Chris groans even louder, addicted to the way you’re clinging onto him. 

“Only you can make me sound like this,” you whimper then warn a thrust later, “I’m gonna cum!”

Chris lets out a low, satisfied growl, relentless with his speed and power. He presses his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers in a deep, breathless voice, “ Cum for me, sweet girl. ” 

He can feel the erratic beat of your heart against his chest. Your pussy tightly clenches around him, gripping harshly onto his cock. As you cum, squealing his name like a practised spell, he chokes on his own moans. His hips push deep inside you, tensing as he finally unloads himself. Ropes and ropes of his cum fill you up as he growls in response to your meek moans.

Chris thrusts a few more times, wanting to ensure you’ve exhausted your orgasm. Then, in two swift motions, he lifts, pulls himself out, and rolls off you. He lands on the bed with a little bounce and content sigh. He expects to see the night sky on the ceiling, like it was last night, but instead finds the sea. And there, between the lapping waves, Chris catches your reflection.

Raising a brow, he tongues his cheek and looks at you. “Enjoy the show,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes, heat crawling up your neck to spread across your cheeks. “I did, actually,” you definitely reply as a last ditch effort to save a semblance of your self-respect. “You have a great butt, by the way.”

Chris laughs. He throws his head back and lets out a full-chested roar of a laugh. He can’t remember that last time he did that without you around. The last two weeks have made him feel more human than he probably ever had in his life. You’re absolutely remarkable and he’s lucky to have met you, even if it means he had to lose his soul.

Lifting his arm, Chris nods at you, silently ordering you to lean into him. You shift closer and hug his waist without another word, much to his surprise.

“You’re so pretty when you're doing as you're told,” Chris praises.  

“I’m pretty always,” you retort. 

Chris rolls his eyes. “Just take the compliment,” he chuckles.

“You’re not fucking me,” you practically whine. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“You’re impossible,” Chris mutters under his breath. But he still holds you close, tracing soothing circles around your shoulder.

You both bask in the silence while he gives you a second to catch your breath. Once he hears your heart beat normally again, Chris asks, “Does it work right away?”

You hum with uncertainty, waving your hand to summon the book. It flies towards you then hovers over your faces. After flipping through the pages, it lands on the recipe for the elixir.

Chris tilts his eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. “Is this the right book?” he asks, as he skims through the paragraphs. 

You flip the page, mumbling, “Yeah.” 

There are only a few books in your personal library that Chris cannot read, having been written in an ancient language he has tried and failed to understand. However, as he stares longer at the page, Chris finds that he can read every word. 

You gasp, sitting up. The book moves with you, hoving in front of you instead of on top of you now. Not that it even matters, since you grab the book from mid-air and pull it into your lap.

Chris sits up beside you. He brushes your hair off your shoulder and asks, “What’s wrong? Did we do it wrong?”

You bring a hand to your mouth as if you cannot believe what you’re reading. “We fucked up,” you whisper. 

A smirk plays on his lips. “Does that mean we get to do this again?” 

Setting the book down, you rub your face and choke back a chuckle. “No, I mean,” you start, turning to face him. “We really fucked up.”

Chris’s smile falters. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, gently running his hand up and down your bicep. “It’s alright, little witch. Take a breath,” he whispers, making sure to keep his voice light. “What happened?”

Your eyes shut, brows knotting, and lean into him. “There is a disclaimer at the end of every spell, recipe, ritual– Whatever it is, there is always a disclaimer that outlines the side effects or possible consequences to alterations.”

Chris nods, urging you to continue. 

“The magic we were using is called sex magic. It usually uses the sexual energy created between the participating parties to harness power. In our case, we were only meant to use it to make you sun-proof, for lack of a better word.”

“I can think of three better words,” Chris can’t help but tease. 

You fight off a smile, glaring at him. “Keep them to yourself,” you demand. 

Chris pauses, wanting to tell you to behave but he can’t move his lips. His voice has diminished too, like his body is physically incapable of ordering you around. 

Guilt flashes in your eyes. “When we had sex, with the elixir and spell tangled in the initial act of harvesting my blood, the purpose of the ritual shifted,” you continue, shoulders tensing. “It may have bound you to me.”

“What?” Chris asks, trying and failing not to sound annoyed. “What does that mean?”

“Witches often have familiars and demons are often serving creatures. They get summoned and must fulfil the summoner's request to be released. The spell has been documented to intertwine the two when more than the required act was performed,” you explain.

What about the crows , Chris wants to ask. He thought they held the role of a familiar. 

You shake your head. “They’re more like co-inhibitors. It is their island afterall.”

Chris retracts his arm from you, setting his jaw. He knows he did not say that out loud so how the–

Shit, did I just read his mind?  

Your voice is clear in his head. Blinking, Chris swallows thickly. “Is that normal?”

You hesitate. “I’ll look into it.”

“How could you have missed this?”

“I was a little busy trying to find all the ingredients,” you argue. 

Chris deadpans. “ I found the ingredients,” he corrects. 

You bite your lip, face crumbling with remorse. “I’m sorry, I–” you cut yourself off with a sigh then start again. “Honestly, I was too busy thinking about you eating me out. It’s why I made you go out and get those ingredients last night. I wanted the house to myself to just let out some of my–”

“Temptations?”

“ Frustrations ,” you correct with a playful glare. “I did not mean for this to happen.”

Chris sighs. He rubs his face and slumps back against your pillows. 

This may not have been what he wanted, however while he wants to be upset, he cannot find it in him to be disappointed. You’re a great friend, a better lover and he’d be insane to reject you. The only real downside about this newfound connection is his inability to put you in your place. You tend to get a bit too cocky and mouth off when he lets one too many sassy comments slide. 

“I don’t want this going to your head, little witch,” he warns, meeting your gaze again. 

You try to hide that mischievous smile and not being able to correct it is already driving him crazy.

“No promises,” you tease. Leaning over him, you stroke his chest and add, “But you have permission to keep me in check whenever you please.”

Chris tongues his cheek. “You had to have known that I would hate the way you said that.”

Your little smile is enough confirmation. 

Chris shoves you back into the bed with a gentle push of your shoulder. “You clearly haven’t had enough,” he murmurs, stationing himself between your legs again. 

“But the elix–”

“To hell with the fucking elixir,” he growls. “I’ll be damned if I don’t fuck your mouth clean.”

The way you shiver at the sound of his voice arouses him all over again. Shifting off the bed, Chris stands at the edge and gestures for you to adjust yourself so your head is hanging off the mattress. 

And with a simple tug of your chin, he’s determined to stay true to his words.

You eagerly oblige him. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

[vacantfields]

Things Are Better AU MASTER POST!

Tags used: Things Are Better AU | TAB AU | TAB AU Answers | TAB AU Writing | TAB AU Sun | TAB AU Moon | TAB AU Eclipse |

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacantfields

TAB AU: Singing Voices Spotify Playlist

YOU ARE ALLOWED TO: Draw, Write, etc with these guys! (ASK ABOUT NSFW !)(AND remember to credit me!!)

(I will attempt to use the tags as best as i can!! Do also note that things can change in this AU but this is the best place you can go look honestly)

[ In this AU, Sun, Eclipse, and Moon have gotten new bodies, some that are way more humanoid. Technically, they are not animatronics anymore, but the Pizzaplex they live at still deems them as such! They are also all separated; most importantly, THEY ARE NOT BROTHERS. They are best friends! (Sun and Moon, however, seem closer than that.) ]

[ It is set in the 20XX! The date doesn't matter. ]

[ The Location of this thriving Pizzaplex is in the heart of a big city, and the rest of the animatronics have gotten slight upgrades but have remained the same. Sun and Moon still run the Daycare. Eclipse stands as the security guard for the Daycare (Moon also still goes on patrols, as well). They live in the Daycare too! The layout is (sorta) the same as the original Pizzaplex. The boys can leave the place, but they must tell their handler or whoever runs the place how long they will be gone. The virus from the game is not here, BUT a virus is in this! It's highly aggressive and should be avoided at all costs. Moon used to have a virus, but most got removed from him when they moved into these bodies, although some of the virus remains in his code. Eclipse has a different virus embedded in him, and he cannot remember how he acted before; it basically wiped his personality, so now he's somewhat unpredictable. ]

They have humanoid/android bodies

The original body along with their personality chips were created in the middle of the 90s

Moon got his virus in 95 or so but they couldn't fully remove it as they would have to reset him and thats a chore plus it wasn't too dangerous so they moved the guys into separate bodies and it fixed most of it

the story is set in 20XX

The location is in a big city

They have been in the new bodies for around 5 years

The fire, gregory, etc. Did not happen here!

The virus Eclipse was made by some people who wanted to use the animatronics to attack people and make sure that fazbear would shut down

They are not the same guys from the game BUT they do act a lot like them! (kinda)

They used to share a body (Eclipse just being a security setting in them)

Moon has remains of a violent virus

Eclipse has the virus embedded in his code

Eclipse cannot remember who he was before the virus

The virus is not sentient... OR... Is it?

Despite not having the virus, Sun is not handling being alone in his head. His unstable and unused security program snaps in when he has breakdowns and makes his head think it's Moon talking to him.

Sun was the first personality chip then it was Moon and then Eclipse

Other facts

The virus does NOT like the color red on bodies. (Do not wear a red shirt or anything alike that around Eclipse he will attack and KILL.)(Though if they care about you he will hold back from mauling)

They cannot eat BUT! They can taste things!

Their face plates can still spin

They can still use the wire to "fly" around if they wish

They have a secondary voice box that they use for when they talk with people outside of the Daycare/or go out!

In the Daycare they use the "Canon" voice

They can also perform at "Adult Nights" at the pizzaplex, which consists of them singing on stage while the adults drink and so on.

Moon is the only one who actively performs so you can catch him in the evenings on stage!

They are all very flexible... And they can dance (;

They can also talk with each other through a shared headspace (like a group chat)

The old body is stored somewhere in the plex

--

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ SUN ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

He/They/We | 8'5" / 256cm | Daycare Attendant

[ Sun is a happy go lucky guy who hides a lot of his other emotions and sometimes they tumble in! He gets angry, he gets sassy, he gets upset, etc. !! ]

Secondary Voice (singing):

Without A Whisper | Sleepless Deathbed | Reverie

(Invent Animate)

----------

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ MOON ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He/They/We | 8'5" / 256cm | Naptime Attendant / Performer

[ Moon is your day to day gremlin. Crawling up walls and spider-walking across the floor in the darkness. Though he does easily get flustered if youre close enough to him! ]

Secondary Voice (singing):

Secret Scream | That Death Cannot Touch | No Accusations

(The Black Queen)

----------

☾✴ ๋࣭ ⭑ ECLIPSE ☾✴ ๋࣭ ⭑

He/They/We | 9'4" / 284cm | Security for the Daycare

[ Eclipse is a wild card. You never know if you can trust what comes out of his mouth but he seems docile for now ]

Secondary Voice (singing):

Broken Inside | Forevermore | Clouded Son

(Broken Iris)

----------

(Hopefully this made some sort of sense... I will probably edit here and there but (: !!)

[sweetlady555]

My Personal Solar Return Observations Pt I

I just got into astrology more and I’ve been suupeerrr into solar return observations lately and this is what I have observed from my own chart! My birthday was 2 months ago and the solar return is SOLAR RETURNING .

Moon in 8h in Aquarius SR - TONS of family secrets coming to the surface. Almost concerning? . Im finding out soo much stuff about my parents . My home environment is also changing a lot, my dad used to be home a lot and now my dad has like completely abandoned me lmaooo . such a strange uranus energy since aquarius is ruled by uranus . Ive been feeling more independent lately and sometimes I dissociate and pretend im living in LA in my own studio alone and away from my unstable family 😍….. I have my chart ruler in here too haha (pray for me) 😊 so this year is definitely going to be transforming AF . Im sensing it everything feels too intense lately 👁️ ..

Cancer Rising SR - I’ve been dealing with a lot of family stuff over the years (toxic relationships that r still ongoing lmaoaoa) and im noticing that instead of digging myself deeper or being depressed, i’ve been nurturing myself more and turning my space into a cozy sanctuary and not into some bed rotting mess😹. Ive been improving my current living situation compared to the past so theres definitely nurturing myself more , saying affirmations in the mirror , working on my self care , getting offered help from my step-family.

Sun in 12H in Cancer SR - I got into astrology a lot of spiritual stuff . Also communicating with my spirit guides more often etc .. I definitely do feel more connected to my spirit guides now I feel im being guided and protected a lot this year . everything feels like its just meant to happen and i mean that in the best way . Getting vivid dreams, ive been writing them down more a lot lately and they’ve been giving me insights on my subconscious and even slight deja vu? I remember I dreamt of me and my dad in my aunts car and 2 days later she had called me and gotten upset because my dad took her car and hadnt brought it back after she let him borrow it for a few hours. Even though my sleep schedule is so bad i love dreaming more now because the universe always gifts me with something meaningful and beautiful in my dreams🙏. Also I been listening to music like A Looottttt more lately EVEN WHEN IM ASLEEP😭 im like oohhh whos playing this banger and i wake up and its just music thats been on shuffle for the past 9 hours 💀

Venus 12H in Cancer 10° SR - finding out what i want in relationships , although i do feel like its becoming hard to connect with others in that way ..? does that make sense ? ive been doing lots of self love affirmations that my dreams consist of love and harmonious energies 😹sometimes ill think about love and a boyfriend and really want it but the next day ill be like wow i love myself so much i really cannot see myself with anyone😇.. lots of creative solitude , being more open to recieve love from my family members AFTER REFUSING multiple times ( it makes me icky sometimes still ) learning compassion and forgiveness for others , im a scorpio moon in my natal so ive held grudges since 6th grade i never cared 😭😭😩.. but this venus in 12h is like reversing the effect… 👁️💧

Venus Conjuct Asc in Cancer SR - GLOW UP PLACEMENT 🙏 i was sexy before but its like my sexiness increased by like 10x . People are noticing it too!! i got told “bros evolving” on one of my posts 😭😭 I also feel like im finding my own personal style aswell! . I also see my body changing (in a good way)

Sun conjuct Asc in Cancer SR - confidence on 1000!!! feeling self assured , nobody can really tell me anything bad about me TO ME and think ILL believe it cuz i wont!! i know who i am thankqqq😛

Mercury 1h in Cancer SR - i feel like this placement helped add onto me becoming so self assured in myself and figuring out who i truly am . Ive been studying and researching about myself a lootttt too !! Ive been getting a lot of gut feelings and just proceeding with them and usually i wont and ill just go with logic but idgaf anymore because usually these gut feelings usually lead to something so worth the outcome whether it may look good or bad!

Mars 11h in Taurus 12° SR - I have lots of amazing goals and things im looking forward to for this year!! I feel so eager to just GO FOR IT but taurus is a slow and steady sign so thats just how i been moving lately .. in silence too cuz there be haters all around 🤐

Pluto 7h in Aquarius 1° SR - ive been unfriending a lot of people to make new friendships idk if thats a bad thing but all the past people i feel are secretly plotting against me… most likely that 1° because i heard that could represent enemies? take that with a grain of salt but anyway ive been more clearer about what i want in friendships aswell which is goal oriented people who just want to get rich and make something for themselves!!! Im tired of the self limiting beliefs and the envy!!!

Saturn 9h in Pisces 19° SR - I start my senior year this month and I plan on graduating early , saturn rules discipline and structure but also setbacks . i feel like this school year although i have that vision i feel like im gonna have to put a lot of work this year lmao i hate school so much i was supposed to go to summer school but i ended up not going to get my mind right before the school year started which has really helped tho imo . i wanted to drop out but at the same time my pride is too high and i feel like this is a great opportunity to build discipline, time management and responsibility for the goals that ill have after i graduate. ive already been setting the milestones and all which is the saturn and pisces influence comin thru 🙏

Neptune 9h in Pisces 29° SR - the 29° usually the “fame indicator degree” can also represent a start to completion/ending of something , since i would be focused on graduating early for my senior year i could see this as me graduating early and completing that academic journey and preparing and embracing a new journey . i feel like this would most likely be spiritual because i caaannooottt focus on school and astrology and spirituality all at the same time because 9 times out of 10 my focus is on astrology and spirituality i needa get my priorities straight😭😩😹..

Just wanted to note this but while reading your SR chart its important to look at your South Node aswell because it can show you what lessons and patterns you need to review / past influences & comfort zones . 1h nn = 7h sn , 2h nn = 8h sn , 3h nn = 9h sn , 4h nn = 10h sn , 5h nn = 11h sn , and so on

North Node 10h in Aries&South Node 4h in Libra - The SN 4h Libra and NN 10H Aries could show that I have to balance my growth and comfort and moving towards new opportunities. With South Node in the 4H in Libra, I may find myself relying on familiar comforts from my past . The south node here might show that I might fall back into old family dynamics . my step family is offering for me to move in with them to help me get back up on my feet and this is such a good opportunity but they did this before though last year and I ended up moving back with my neglectful dad and I just fell depressedddddd . ill prolly release my old patterns where I would be moving away from family support because last year my mom offered to help me and support me and i ended up being manipulated and i fell depressed again then went to my step dad for help so i can get ahead and i went back with my dad and got even more depressed lmaoo but ill see how this ends up playing out. With the north node in the 10h in aries , i’ve been really focused on building my own unique self image instead of just catering to what others expected of me . Ill be looking forward to the goals I have planned out while actively working on them . With the influence of Aries too, bold and courageous, I’d most likely be taking risks to pursue my goals and stepping out my comfort zone. Probably by being SO FED UP with my controlling dad that I just take that leap 💯

this is my first observation post i was gonna go to sleep but i was dedicated to finish this tonight, i hope this was insightful to many of you and may this year bring all of us sweet blessings ⭐️

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; Hi my little doves, I've missed you, I'm in love with my work lol I really enjoy writing this series so don't forget to share your thoughts with me. Don't worry, there will be SMUT in the future chapters. Sorry for any typos English isn't my first language.

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Text me if i forgot to tag you little doves 🕊️ ♥️)

Warnings; Violence. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha,reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.232K

Chapter Four- ‘’Misery Begins’’

Giedi Prime, House Harkonenn

The air felt heavy in her lungs, the planet was orbiting a black sun, thus, everything outside looked black and white, no wonder these people were raised like animals, planet’s harsh conditions shaped their characteristics. The second she stepped out of the ship she hated every single thing but kept a firm stance.

Now she was settling in the guest quarters, the wedding was to be in 7 days and thankfully Harkonnen traditions says that they, under any circumstance, cannot stay in the same room.

Y/N had few of her personal maids and the rest was Harkonnen servants, all dressed in black with bald heads and pale, thin figures. Y/N noticed the looks she got from them, an outsider…

Inside the fortress one could see colors yet Harkonenns choose to keep it simple, her chambers consisted of a bedroom,  a small living room, and bathroom. Without a word she moved to the velvet armchair which was facing outside, she didn’t want to engage in any conversation with anyone, ‘’Prepare my bath.’’ She ordered without looking at any of them and then moved to the desk in her bedroom to write a letter to her family saying that she landed on the planet safely and everything was fine of course she knew that every letter she would sent was going to be read by Feyd-Rautha’s most trusted politicians, maybe even by himself so she kept the letter short. ‘’Send this to my family.’’ She gave the metal, thin device which was the letter to a servant, ‘’Yes my Lady.’’

After her bath which consisted of warm water and bath oils she brought from home, she smelled fresh and felt better. She was on her desk reading when her door was knocked, ‘’Yes?’’

A servant girl entered, she looked sickly pale and thin, her eyes on the floor, her hands interlaced on her thin stomach, ‘’Na-Baron wishes to dine with you my Lady.’’ It wasn’t a wish, it was an order. ‘’The trip have made me exhausted, please tell Na-Baron that I desire to rest.’’

She noticed the girl’s change of body language, her eyes rose to look at her ladyship pleadingly.  Y/N kindly smiled at the girl, oblivious to what was going to happen, she dismissed the servant girl.

The black sun of Giedi Prime shone bright just like the day before, Y/N decided to do some reading, learn more about the planet’s ecosystem. She had a light breakfast, the air still stingy in her lungs, she didn’t have much appetite.

Y/N Atreides was on her desk, taking notes and reading and her door knocked, ‘’Come in.’’ she was focused on the old books, ‘’My Lady.’’

‘’Yes?’’ she turned to face a man, he was a guard in his dark uniform. ‘’Na-Baron has a gift for you. He insists that you should open it after I am dismissed.’’ A strange request but what wasn’t strange about him anyways?!

Y/N couldn’t read the guard’s expression, his face was a blank slate, however he look more pale than usual skin color, was he ill? ‘’Thank you, place the box on the floor and you may be dismissed.’’ He did what he was told. She stood up and approached to the metal box, there was a strong smell of iron coming from it, it appeared there was no lock, no writings. Just in case, she placed the portable force field on her hand, activated it and tested it, working just fine.

Her hand went to open the metal box and her first reaction was to scream in terror, and her second reaction was to run to her bathroom and throw up her breakfast, shaking uncontrollably, on her knees like a wild animal.

Y/N Atreides didn’t know how many minutes or decades she had spent in that position, finally one of her old maids came for her rescue. ‘’My Lady…’’ she was an old woman with white hair and motherly touch, ‘’It’s okay now..’’ she was rubbing Y/N’s back gently and whispering kind words.  ‘’Is it-‘’ she sobbed, ‘’is it gone?’’

‘’I took care of it my Lady.’’ She helped Y/N stand up and leave the bathroom. The metal box which had the servant girl’s head was gone and yet she could feel her eyes watching her every move. She threw the shield on her hand and marched out of her chambers. There was a solider guarding her chambers, ‘’Where is Na-Baron?’’ she asked trying to control her tone. ‘’He has a meeting with Baron Vladimir and Glossu Rabban.’’

‘’Take me to him.’’ She said, could feel the anger on her chest, so hefty. ‘’But my Lady-‘’

‘’Take me to him.’’ She used the voice on him, the guard, without a word started to guide her to the meeting room. The corridors of the fortress were mostly black, some grey and white here and there, there were guards on watch duties, servants cleaning or carrying stuff. It was so different than the environment she grew up in, in Caladan or Emperor’s planet was vivid and thriving, here it was just… lifeless. She cursed her fate.

There were two guards on the doors of the meeting room, ‘’Open.’’ She used the voice again and the doors were opened slowly, Baron Vladimir was sitting on a metal chair which was placed on marble steps, towering over Glossu Rabban and Feyd-Rautha who were standing and looking up at him, listening to him as if their lives depend on it.. well.. they weren’t wrong. Baron was surprised to see her. ‘’Lady Y/N!’’ he announced which made the boys look at her direction but she refused to look at them, her focus was on Baron. ‘’What a lovely surprise, I hope you quarters to your liking.’’ Y/N bowed in courtesy, ‘’Thank you my Baron, you are the most generous.’’ She had to control her anger and she was doing a good job, keeping things formal. She had to be respectful to the family otherwise her position let alone her life would be at stake, she remembered Feyd’s words; ‘’Try to humiliate me again and see what happens, little dove.’’ The room was barren with only a long marble table and chairs, the curtains were closed and white glowglobes lighting the room, no carpets, no ornaments. ‘’What do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’’ he asked, she could see he was trying to understand her moves. ‘’I must speak with Na-Baron. It is urgent.’’ Finally she turned to face him, even though he was standing far away she could see his body reacting to her words, he was alert and an animalistic shine on his eyes. ‘’Feyd, please escort your wife-to-be to a more secluded area and discuss.’’ His uncle said and Feyd bowed to him quickly, ‘’Yes uncle.’’ And then he turned to her, marching like a soldier, he held her arm and escorted her out of the room, his grip was tight, he made her follow him. Since there were guards and servants everywhere she didn’t dare to utter a word.

Y/N had no idea where they were going, the fortress was a maze and every corridor looked similar. They reached a door, Feyd dismissed the guards and opened the heavy black door. Quite frankly he threw her inside, before she got a chance to look around she spit her venom. ‘’What is wrong with you?!’’ Feyd looked puzzled, ‘’Did you really beheaded that girl just because I refused to dine with you?!’’ she could feel her whole body shake in anger, being in his presence disturbed her equilibrium. ‘’Oh, that.’’ He remembered, his behavior made it worse for her. ‘’Yes, that!’’ He didn’t close the space between them, his hands behind his back. ‘’Did I upset you, little dove?’’ was he mocking her? ‘’Upset?!’’ Y/N couldn’t believe her ears, what happened to that sweet boy she met years ago?

He started to move towards her like a predator, he was much taller than her, towering above her she had to look up to meet his icy blue orbits. Years had turned him into a killing machine, what a shame. She hoped to see remorse in those beautiful eyes but found nothing. Back of his hand found her heated cheek, touching ever so gently, it made one wonder how could he behead an innocent girl and then touch his wife-to-be like a tender lover. ‘’This is what happens when you reject my orders.’’ His voice calm and collective. ‘’I hate you!’’ and she pushed his chest but had no impact so she moved away from his aura. That’s when she noticed that they were in his quarters of the fortress, she remembered the fact that he dismissed the guards, no one to help her if things were to took a turn. ‘’You hate me?’’ he asked, still calm. ‘’What else… do you also fear me?’’

‘’No.’’ she simply answered. His none existent eyebrows rose, his pupils dilated ever so slightly, she noticed how still he was, like a statue. His nostrils flared with a passion she could not placed.

‘’No? So you don’t fear me.’’ He repeated back, folding his arms, he wasn’t angry, only curious. ‘’Not at all?’’

‘’You aren’t allowed to hurt me.’’ Her voice higher than his.

‘’Not allowed?’’ he tilted his head, his voice low and husky, ‘’and how can you be so certain of such?’’ a slight smile pulled at his plump lips, ‘’What makes you so confident in that?’’ he knew his own intentions but he was curios of what went on within her pretty head. There was a certain aura about Y/N that intrigued Feyd, he was watching, listening and studying her.

‘’Let me go back to my home.’’ She whispered, even she didn’t believe herself but that was her intention, to go back and ride her horse, walk in the lush gardens, laugh with her other Bene Gesserit friends. ‘’You assume you have the final word where you go.’’ He chuckled, his voice lower than before. ‘’I decide where you go.’’ His gaze grew sharp like an animal, ‘’I decide what you do. And what I decide..’’ Feyd laughed again, ‘’You’re going to obey.’’

‘’I had a life before you took me, I had a family and friends and, and..’’ she could feel her eyes getting blurry, ‘’And?’’ he insisted, ‘’I had a partner, a lover, and you scared him away!’’ she was practically yelling at this point, female rage taking over her body. ‘’A lover? Don’t make me laugh little girl. If he was so in love with you-‘’ he opened his arms looking around, ‘’where is he? Why isn’t he here defending your honor and saving you from me?!’’ with the mention of Y/N’a former partner Pyramus, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t so calm anymore, he could feel rage rising in his body.  

‘’Because of you! You scared him and he ran! Otherwise he would be here-‘’

‘’Don’t be that stupid Y/N! He wasn’t so scared when I offered him a deal.’’

And with that Y/N was confused, ‘’What deal?’’

Feyd-Rautha was pacing in the room in anger, he couldn’t believe she was still ‘’in love’’ with that low life, waste of space. ‘’I offered him a supply of spice which will outlive him and his children and his children’s children. A generation wealth so to speak.’’

Y/N was shaking her head in rejection, her gaze focused on the floor, ‘’No, no,’’ she whispered, not believing what Feyd was suggesting. ‘’Yes Y/N! Your lover didn’t hesitate a second and took the deal.’’

‘’Then why did he try to escape with me?!’’ she yelled in pain, her heart was torn into pieces, ‘’I wanted you to see how pathetic he was and I staged it.’’ Feyd’s chest heaving with anger and he was so passionate to prove her he was right, he turned to go to the next room and brought back a metal device, he opened it, ‘’Here, he signed the deal.’’ She took it and saw the spice deal written on it, millions of gallons.. and Pyramus’ signature at the bottom…

Feyd grabbed the metal device and threw it on the couch near him, ‘’Not going to lie, you weren’t cheap.’’ And she slapped him.

Feyd-Rautha was slapped by a woman for the first time in his life, he froze for a second, shocked to see how bold she could be. He was even turned on a bit. With both of his hands he grabbed her delicate shoulders tightly, he was much stronger than her. ‘’LET GO OF ME-‘’

Feyd-Rautha didn’t care what she wanted, ‘’I might hurt you physically Y/N, but I would never do that to you. I would never sell what’s mine for something else. Do you hear me?!’’ his voice was rough and irritated her ears, her body was in shock and her shoulders hurting her. ‘’I would never leave what’s mine behind and walk away, I am a man, see me as a man not that little boy you met years ago!’’

Was that a love confession, no it couldn’t be.. someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen couldn’t possibly feel something so pure and innocent, or was it just being possessive and showing her that her life was in his hands till death do them apart. The stress overcame her body, her vision was getting darker and the last thing she saw was Feyd’s pretty eyes.

Tag List;

@superchatnoir07

@mamawiggers1980

@landlockedmermaid77

@moonsoulk

@crystalskiesandcherrywine

@palomavz

@beebeechaos

@jeong-uwu

@tian-monique

@avidreader73

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@taleah

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@flower-frog

@or-was-it-just-a-dream

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@monstresshorn

Thank you for reading. :)

[dilutedconfusion]

I love the way you write! I love Kid! I need Kid!! 😩

Anyway, happy to rewad whatever you write, but if this request inspires you, by all means, I would LOVE to read it.

I'm thinking about some protective, possessive stuff! Reader gets kidnapped and subdued. Or gets beaten, life hanging by a thread.

And Kid just goes ape shit. NSFW obviously because Kid is going to rip some troaths and all that protectiveness makes reader a little crazy.

Does this tickle your fancy? Writer's choice on everything, really. I would just love a crazy protective Kid.

Kudos for all your work and thank you for sharing your talent! 👏🏻❤️

I’M SO DEEPLY SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME. I don’t know how long this request was sitting in my inbox but I APOLOGIZE and I hope this fic makes up for it 🧎‍♀️

OKAY besides that you didn’t have to be that nice 🫵 Like seriously making me blush and stuff you’re so sweet ilysm🤭 And since I literally cannot control myself I went a little overboard. I wasn’t planning on writing so much and I wasn’t planning on making it so intense I suppose. But you asked for possessive, life hanging by a thread, kidnapped scenario so here you go! I should’ve made it more NSFW in the more sexual way less gore way. But alas this request is more horror and fluff than anything. Oh and I also made the pronouns gender neutral because you didn’t specify so I hope that’s okay with you! I need to write more gender neutral readers anyways so it was a good excuse. I hope you enjoy it!

Shades of Red

Eustass Kid x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You got kidnapped by bounty hunters. Suffice to say you and Kid aren’t taking it very well. Kid goes a little crazy and does some particular bloody things. It has a good ending though so no worries👍

Horror?? And Fluff I suppose.

Warnings: LOTS of explicit gore and blood.

Word Count: 8.1k

Water was thicker than blood.

Well, you had always known that. From your first cut as a child that was an otherworldly sting. It had felt so foreign from your previous non-existence. Pain was juvenile to you. Something to be feared in its unknowing nature. Something that would stain clothes. Stain water.

There was specific soft vignette of red reminded you of the way light looked behind your eyelids. Warm with light yellow tones around the edges. The tingle of your smooth skin left you to almost sparkle. A man adorned in all shades of red as if it was the only color that fit him.

As if it was the only color you ever wanted to look at. A color you desperately tried to view positively despite what was happening. Despite the splatters around you.

You hadn’t felt the sun in a while. Skin growing paler and colder with each passing night. The sun was a mere sixty feet above you since the earth swallowed you whole. An insistent dripping against your scalp made you want to snap your jaw in half. Digging into your skull to rip out the part of you that could still feel.

A puddle of water lay at your feet. The water from the unstable ceiling would constantly drip downwards. Drifting onto the chains that held up your arms to keep you on your knees. Swirling down your bruised wrists and dripping from your elbows. Going down your spine with a consistent cold shiver running through you. Your eyelashes dripped like crystals as your head hung low. Watching the water drip off your chin or the tip of your nose.

The puddle of water beneath you was stained red. Letting you watch as your blood swirled in its mirror-like gaze. Face to face with yourself until another drop landed and ripples formed.

The same sight over and over again. The same pain over and over again for what felt like weeks.

But you knew it hadn’t been that long despite how the hours crawled forwards. It took a lot of work being captured but at least the water kept you clean.

Your kidnappers wouldn’t want their little plaything any other way.

There was no enjoyment in watching you bleed if you were already bloody. They liked to start a fresh slate to give the blood some contrast.

Nothing has been explained to you. Not a single peep of why you were here, what they were trying to achieve, and why they decided to keep you alive. Any person who walked through the iron door in front of you stayed close to silent. Only opening their mouths to give orders or berate you. Those orders were always just to eat your food under the watchful eye of a guard. To get up and follow them to the bathroom during scheduled times. Not another beaten to near-death person in sight. It seemed like it was just you and them down here surprisingly. Either that or they wanted to make it seem that way. There wasn’t even a request made or some form of labor being put onto you.

You always listened because frankly, you had no other choice. These chains were tight and you were always guarded. As strong as you were, you were still weak. And as smart as you were, you had made the horrible decision to venture off on your own.

Some stupid fucking idea Kid would’ve called it. You could hear his yelling and screaming over you now. Pacing the tiny cell and telling you how much of an idiot you had been. How he had ordered you to stay with your assigned group on this last mission. That he expected more from you and he’d never seen you act this stupid. How he would leave you behind next time because he didn’t want to deal with your shit anymore.

Yet he cried the first time you got badly injured. Held you like a baby and took you to the infirmary just to scream and break an innocent chair. You never took his fits seriously because underneath it all you could feel guilt coming off him in waves. You could see the fear fermenting in a supposedly fearless man's eyes.

You supposed that keeping you captive, keeping you docile enough to not try anything, was a way to lure Kid into some kind of trap. He was a man with a high bounty and a lot to lose. And they must’ve guessed his lover was something worth fighting for.

But it had been too long and your throat grew tired of screaming and cussing out the world. They had you locked up tight, underground, on an island you traveled to by boat with your head stuck in a sack the whole ride there. Every box was checked off when it came to the perfect kidnapping. Nobody had even seen it happen so they had to have left some sort of cryptic note for the crew to find.

Or at least you hoped so.

There was a slim chance that they had no idea what happened to you. That this place was just a pit stop until you got sold to the Celestial Dragons. Or maybe until they worked out a deal with the navy for your head.

You desperately pleaded and hoped that these people were greedy. That whatever amount of money the dragons would pay or the small sum of your bounty wasn’t enough for them. They wanted Kid and all his other higher-ranking members so at least they would know where you are. They would be coming after you.

Yet thinking like that kept you in a whirlwind of guilt.

I fucked up. I deserve to die here. They shouldn’t…no…they can’t get involved in this. Their dreams are too important to get caught right now. Right when we were so close.

At some point your pain, your suffering, and self-loathing almost became…comical.

The mirth of it came out in crazed laughter. Looking down at yourself in the puddle's reflection as your laughing permanently bounced around the stone walls. A big smile on your face yet your eyes were screaming. Leaving an ominous, nearly insane echo to be heard throughout the facility.

The room was small and enclosed around you. Your eyes were dizzy as the world spun. Before the weight of reality struck you again, bringing you down from your manic high. Heart beating in your ears as you gasped for air, tears streaming into the bloody puddle once again.

Pain wasn’t juvenile to you anymore. But the more you lost yourself, the more you started to wish it were.

—————

This pain was juvenile. New and fresh despite being torn from an old wound. As if someone had dug into Kid's brain just to remind him of exactly how it felt to lose. Exactly how it felt to be hopeless once again.

He thought he would’ve known what to do, how to handle this. And for the most part, he did.

But in the empty cold spaces when no one was around. Whether that was the bathroom, his room, or the silent deck in the night, he broke.

There was no more sucking it up, no more biting his lips, no more anxious scratching of his skin or grinding of his teeth that could save him from the way he felt.

It should’ve been me.

Oh, how he wished he was angry and dare say he was. When Dive had informed him that you weren’t with her. That during a raid in your small group off in the safer corner of the fight, away from him you, had disappeared.

Just poof into thin air without informing anyone of where you went.

He had lost it.

That village burned that night. Warm fires in every inch, every crevice, and every person mauled. Each one of them did not know what happened. Not a boat spotted leaving the island. Not a single trace of where you had gone.

That anger hasn’t stopped. It’s still just as potent, just as ferocious and terrifying. More blood-curdling and scream-inducing than hell itself. Kid had felt more people's bodies go cold in his grip in the last few days than he had most of his life.

He wanted to feel it. He wasn’t killing for convenience so an annoying crowd surrounding him would break. He wanted to hurt people, to kill the right person as brutally as he could in case they had any chance of being involved with your disappearance. He took down that village of thugs, burned and quartered every man on a passing ship, and started bouncing to all the nearby islands looking to do just the same.

But so far he’d come up empty. Not a sign, not a note, not a welcomed reunion between the two of you. He’d walk into a building or down into the deeper levels of a ship screaming your name. Eyes blurring to find no one but the dead. All that hope in him snuffed out to embers. His crew watching little parts of him die.

So amid silence, when the pain that he should’ve been handling, that he should be familiar with resurfaced, he cried. He’d kneel over on the floor or press himself against a banister to weep. That low rugged voice gasping for air as he struggled not to choke. Wiping his eyes, his hands reaching out and grasping at the air for childlike comforts. The remembrance of your soft skin dancing along his fingers. Your soothing voice told him that it was going to be okay. He could nearly see you in front of him. Those eyes of yours filled with so much love for a fool like him. His chest hurt so bad he could feel bile building up in his throat. Swallowing it down through wet sniffles and snot-covered lips.

He was a mess. If he didn’t find you soon…he didn’t know what he would do. He wondered if you left on purpose. That you didn’t love him anymore and left without saying anything. Without taking any of your belongings because you were so utterly desperate to get away.

Finding his touch disgusting, his love suffocating, and his personality exhausting.

He wouldn’t have blamed you if that was the truth. It took a lot to love someone like him which is why it's never happened before. At least not in a romantic way.

He never told anyone that he thought this. Because he knew that they would all brush it aside. Saying that you would never leave him and you were far too in love with him to do something like that. But the idea dug in like a lobotomy through his eye. It was piercing him until he tore apart into someone he wasn’t. His face just shards in a broken mirror.

He needed to know what had happened even if you did leave on purpose. Because on the chance that you didn’t, that someone had hurt you, then there was a price to pay in blood.

And Kid intended to squeeze out every last drop of it.

—————

It had been a normal day underground.

The newspaper was in his hand as he slumped slightly in his chair. The hallway is just as cold as ever. The watch on his wrist ticked and the camera's persistent red light monitored the area.

He knew he couldn’t doze off. After the captives' recent round of hysterical laughter, he knew they were on edge. Of course, he had solved the problem as was ordered. Bringing earplugs just in case the laughing kept going on but the brass knuckles seemed to do the trick. But of course, he and the other men had made a bit of a mess. The whole room smelled of copper from the blood and could nearly smell it oozing out of the cracks of the door.

It was as if it was still painting his skin with that lovely shade of red. Darkened and dried into the cracks of his hands as he washed it off. Now leaving him without a trace, hoping to chase that high again despite this person being ‘precious cargo’.

Though you couldn’t have been that precious considering they were pawning you off to the navy. They usually wanted all bounties dead or alive. But this was a special case where the navy wanted you alive for questioning. And that no matter how much his boss wanted to, they couldn’t question the captive under certain terms. They were bounty hunters, not pirates, so any shred of information about this big-shot Eustass Kid was like gold to them.

I don’t know why we’re not interrogating them anyway. They already look like they're losing a couple of screws, might as well dig deeper and see what pops up. It's not like the navy will figure it out.

He let out a little grunt of anger, flipping to the next page with a grimace. His boss was a careful man with very specific plans. Finding this little victim perfectly alone and ripe for the taking was a strike of luck. But because his boss was always prepared for an opportunity, they snatched you up while on the run off an island. Taking to sea as a raid ensued and followed suit to their hideout so hidden not even the town uptop knew about it.

They had done this before and they would do it again. There were even a few other inmates locked up in different sectors. They were never allowed to see each other just in case they tried some kind of revolution. So they all roamed the halls and went to the bathrooms at different times. It was the perfect kidnapping scheme. Letting them slowly rake in the big money without putting themselves in danger.

He heard a rattling of chains from inside the room. Starting slow but slowly getting a bit louder. A light rumbling came from it as the unstable ceiling pinned with metal to hold up the chains groaned.

He slapped down his newspaper in his lap, turning his head towards the door with a yell. “Shut the fuck up in there! You need something, you're going to have to wait for it!”

He turned back to his newspaper letting out a little groan as the rattling stopped. Not a single word came through the door so clearly it was for nothing.

Goddamn, I swear they just do this shit to mess with me.

He shifted a bit in his seat to get more comfortable. Smacking his lips as he eased down. Taking a quick look at his watch to check how long it was until they were given another scheduled bathroom break.

An hour? I swear if this motherfucker pisses themselves again I’m going to hose them down till they bleed.

Another grumble of annoyance rose in his throat. Rolling his eyes a bit as he scratched at the back of his head. Suddenly he heard the same stupid chain rattling. This time much louder and quicker as it scraped and groaned at the ceiling. Cracking his jaw before slamming down his newspaper on the floor and getting up. Opening the small slot just at eye level to look inside.

“I swear to fucking god if you don’t quit that shit right now say goodbye to food for a while you piece of shit!” He watched you with a burning in his eyes. Your face tilted downwards towards the floor like always. Unresponsive and half-dead looking from all the wetness crawling over you. Like some sort of bog demon rattling at the chains and tugging on them incessantly.

He slammed on the door trying to gain your attention. The loud metal banging didn’t make you flinch in the slightest. “Hey! Do you hear me right now you crazy bitch? If you don’t stop I’m coming in there and you know what that means.” He nearly growled, his voice presently hungry for another beating session.

You didn’t stop, if anything you made it worse. Flinging your weak body a bit as you gripped onto the chains. Putting your weight into it so the metal slammed against itself. The stone ceiling crumbling a bit as a rumbling ensued.

“God fucking damn it!” He screamed, his slightly sweaty hands gripping the key on his belt. Ripping it off him, he undid the latch and pushed the door open. His feet walked over blood stains and wet puddles as he latched the keys back on. Cracking his knuckles as he hovered over you. “Is this what you want?! Wanna feel my fucking hands beat into you?!” He quickly grabbed you by the hair tugging your face up to look at him. Your face vacant and almost lifeless.

You finally stopped rattling the chains and pulling at them. Hands falling limping and racking against the cuffs. He held his fist in the air ready to punch you. Looking forward to that sweet silence he oh so craved. But for some reason, the rumbling didn’t stop.

Your chains had already stilled. The ceiling still shaking slightly and sprinkling dust. A crescendo of rumbling shooting across the floor and up into his bones.

He looked up and around the room. Still holding onto your hair tightly as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Is that an earthquake?

But the rumbling got louder. Nearly chattering in his skull. His grip loosed slowly, letting you set your head down but you didn’t. You stayed looking up at him. Sweat was building in his palms when suddenly the lights went out all at once. Sharp static flickers and fuses snapping in time.

But then rumbling stopped. Filling the room with a dark silence so thick he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Grabbing onto his flashlight at his side he felt this horrible feeling of anxiety growing in his gut.

I’m fine. Everything’s fine. We’re prepared for an earthquake and this power outage is probably just part of it.

His thumb traced over the button to turn on his flashlight. But through the open door, he heard it. His body freezing in place as if he was frozen in ice.

It was screaming. Not just a light yell of panic or someone barking orders. It was true blood gurgling screaming coming from somewhere in the facility. Echoing off the stone walls as he slowly turned his head around. Pointing his flashlight at the cell entrance before flicking on the light.

It quickly filled up the space with a warm circle of light. But instead of the light shining onto stones in the hallway, it hit something else.

A wall of blood in the shape of a man.

Bright and rich in color it reflected into the guard's eyes. It was visibly dripping and he could nearly feel the heat coming off of it. Not a spec of skin or clothing was visible from how thickly it managed to glob onto his wide demeaning chest.

The guard blinked as if caught in a dream. His mouth moved to say something but it was far too dry. As if all the life had been sucked out of him at that very moment.

He saw some sort of metal arm on the monsters left-hand side. His eyes carefully tracing down it in the dark to spot the shiny glimmers of blood of what looked like a human spine in its grasp, half of it trailing off onto the floor. The bones cracked loudly under his grasp, making the guard flinch backward, almost stumbling into you behind him.

The man sucked in a gasp of air. Tears filled his eyes at the horrid monster in front of him. Tilting the flashlight upwards until it reached the monsters face.

If he knew any better, he would’ve never done that.

His face was equally covered in blood. Slightly smeared around so bits of his pale skin shot through. His shiny scars and pinned-up goggles on his head gleamed light back at him. Damp hair from all the blood lying down onto his skin.

But the worst part was his eyes.

That burned into the guard's mind. So horrid. So piercing he felt his breathing stall. Almost choking on nothing as he felt himself passing out. The darkness around him turned darker but the monster wouldn’t allow that.

The monsters body bounded forward. His metal hand letting go of the spine as he dropped it with a wet thud on the floor. The wall of blood came closer with each loud thundering footstep. He grabbed the guard by the head, fitting his entire skull into his metal fist. Picking him up off the floor easily and clamping down around his skull. Feeling it splinter and almost cave under the pressure. The guards screams were muffled as he clawed at the metal arm. Kicking his feet in the air and almost hitting you in the process.

The monster turned towards the door once again, away from you before the final snap ensued. A loud deafening crack and then nothing but the sounds of warm blood sputtering on the floor. The man's flashlight fell to the ground. Rolling across the stone to cast an eerie light across you.

The room stayed silent for a while before he dropped the man's body to the floor carelessly. Blinking tirelessly to spot the monsters shadow in the dark with tear filled eyes.

“K-Kid?” you murmured. Your voice was so rasp and weak he could barely hear it. Turning around to face something he could hardly stomach to see.

His eyes traced over you like he almost didn’t think you were real. Soaked from head to toe in water, you kneeled in front of him in a pool of blood. Dark deep bruises on every visible limb. You’re lip cut and swollen as it wobbled from the tears. Tears coming out of a very prominent black eye with red lacerations all around your face. Your clothing torn and in shambles, as they stuck uncomfortably tight to your wet skin.

Kid had seen the inside of many men but the sight of you nearly broke him apart.

Your disheveled features and colorless lifeless skin made his breathing hitch. Tears instantly flooded his eyes just to drip down his face. Mixing in with the blood now drying on his skin. His heart tore in two as he nearly fell into you. His large knees hit the hard ground and splashed up the puddle of blood. Wrapping you in a warm gooey hug he gripped his hand into your hair, shoving his head into the crook of your neck.

“I’m s-sorry…I’m so sorry…I’ll never let this happen again.” He croaked out into your ear between sniffles. Your hands were still bound so you couldn’t grip him. Just tugging at the chains helplessly as you let out a wry whimper of pain.

“K-Kid…” you mumbled, the crying getting even worse, “I thought I was dead…I-I missed you so fucking much. I’m so sorry I fucked up…I..” You trailed off into a whimper. Words escaping you as reality became as sharp as a knife, yet comforting as his touch.

Hearing your voice caused him to let out a weak gasp of pain. Trying to be gentle as he gripped his flesh arm around you a bit tighter. His metal one at your side, both arms desperately trying to not put pressure on your wounds. With a little flash of purple lightning escaping his hand and tingling the back of your head, your chains came off. Bruised weak wrists getting an instant relief as your arms swung down to land weakly onto his shoulders. The blood rushed back into them as you gripped him tightly, pressing your chest flush against his despite all the blood.

Without a word, he tucked his metal arm under your legs. Scooping you up easily, he kept your face pressed against his chest. Walking out into the hallway as his feet dodged the guard's body and left over spine.

“I want you to keep your eyes closed okay baby? Just stay up against my chest until we get out of here.” He mumbled to you softly. Listening to your staggered breathing as you cried on him.

You barely even heard him. Just shoving your face further upwards until you reached the crook of his neck. Closing your eyes as you tried to take deep breaths. Fingers nearly clawing into his sticky blood-stained back as if he was going to disappear.

Kid traced his bloodied footsteps back from where he came from. Finding a few splattered bodies along the way. The worst of it was at the entrance. Clasping onto the back of your head a bit tighter he dug his hand into your hair. Glancing weakly over at the piles of dead bodies still warm and oozing onto the floor.

Every single person in this underground facility was completely slaughtered and he made sure of it. The rest of the inmates the crew found in separate cells set free. Running out into the night with a smile and urgency like never before.

Honestly, he didn’t even realize he had gone so far until it was over. Having slashed every single person that came his way into loose mangles. Usually, he’d move on to the next person when a deathly slash was inflicted on them. But he couldn’t stop, rumbling the whole underground facility as he tore into stone and bone. Effectively splattering his entire body with a thick layer of blood.

A part of him still hadn’t calmed down since then. His eyes were still jumpy as he used his haki to check his surroundings. There was no relief for him until you were home, safe, and healing. No amount of blood could quell how his heart clenched for you.

His crew, who was guarding the entrance for any extra visitors, saw you curled in his arms. Some opened their mouths to say something but Kids eyes stopped them. Your sniffles turned to silence as you stilled against his chest. There would be no grand reunion until you were home. Exhaustion covered you like a blanket as he walked you out into the warm air of freedom.

—————

It was an aching feeling. First at the crux of your back on something far too stiff then into a plush embrace. Your head lulls backward into something to catch you. Tight itchy fabric fumbling you awake. Peeling your slightly crusted-over eyes open and expecting to see that same blinding light from before. To hear only the muffled voices of those around you as you barely stayed lucid. But the world had cleared and surprisingly you weren’t somewhere sterile, you were somewhere warm.

The rafters of the wood above you creaked as the boat shifted on the sea. The room was dark and drafty as a window nearby blew in sweet cold air. That familiar scent of the briny seaweed lapping at your nose. You tried to sit up and immediately were met with a warm hand across your chest, pushing you back down.

“Quit moving.” With a turn of your head against the pillow you saw Kid lying mostly naked on his stomach beside you. His hair was loose and hung a bit over his eyes and the back of his neck. Soft and relaxed and not spiked like most people saw it. One side of his pale face squished against the maroon pillow. Blinking at you tiredly in the low light of the dark.

“Shouldn’t I be…in the infirmary?” You mumbled, softly touching his hand now laying on your chest. Feeling along his fingertips and the deep scars on his skin.

He immediately grimaced at that, letting out a gruff groan as he sat up slightly to roll onto his side. Now facing you more directly but keeping his hand softly over your chest as if to feel your heartbeat. “I’m the Captain and I’ll put you where I want you. You didn’t need to stay there anyway. The worst is over and I’m watching over you. Like that doctor could ever take care of you like I can…”

He rolled his eyes, knowing damn well no one knew you like he did. He may not have the medical experience but he was going to take care of you, it's the least he could do. You watched him silently for a moment, chewing your otherwise slightly split lip tenderly. Your other free hand feeling at the bandages around your hips. The doctor seemingly left you only a roll or two away from being a mummy.

“I don’t…I don’t remember what happened.” You said a bit hesitantly. Everything after him saving you felt like a fever dream. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Kid could see the uncertainty written deep into your brow. Taking his hand and running it up to swipe his thumb over your cheek.

“I brought you home and patched you up. You mumbled and cried the whole time in the infirmary. Clinging onto me and whimpering like a dog through all the stitches,” he said with a slight huff of a laugh before mellowing back down into something solemn, “but you’re okay. Nothing severe.”

A little part of you eased into that knowledge. His hand against your cheek feeling like perfection.

I’m okay. You repeated in your head. Your eyes fluttering slightly as they became more foggy with tears. Wet crystal like droplets in the corners of your eyes.

Kid saw this and slightly panicked. Not wanting you to cry anymore, your eyes still puffy from all the tears you had already shed. He slipped his hand off your face and started to sit up. His big body making the bed shake a little as he started to stand up.

“I can go grab you some food. They put you on a IV from all the blood loss so you must be feeling shitty.” He mumbled, the cadence of his words a bit hitched and frantic. You quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging on it slightly to bring him back down.

“No…no it's okay. Maybe in a bit but…” you paused, his head turned back towards you as he watched the tears well up even more, “Kid I-”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He had cut you off. Leaving you to nearly let out a whimper of pain. You’re chest swimming with guilt as he lets you ease him back into bed. Sitting up and looking down at you with his legs crossed.

His face was starkly stiff as he watched you. Those golden globes of his muddy with feelings yet you barely even noticed. Having trouble looking right at him as you stared down at the bed. “But I fucked up. I mean I badly fucked up. I put all of you at risk and I acted so selfishly thinking I could go out on my own-”

“Baby it's fine.” You let out a shaky huff of air when he cut you off again. Not feeling at all comforted despite his version of ‘fine’. With your face becoming a mess of lines and reddened cheeks he could see you were hanging off the edge. And no matter how much he wanted to drag you off of it, no matter how much he didn’t want to see you cry, he let you talk. Your voice coming out in barely composed gasps.

“But it's not though. I just…I want you to know I’ll never do that again. I won’t go against your plans. I won’t be overly confident in the face of battle. I got myself in that mess and I can’t imagine how hard it was to try and pry me out. All that time wasted…” At this point, a tear had already slipped down your cheek. The side of your face pressed deeply into the pillow as if you were trying to burrow your way out of this. Not looking at him once. Just curling yourself up into a ball of shame in front of him.

He hated every second of it.

“Wasted? It wasn’t a waste because I wanted to do it. I needed to do it. Every person I killed and every single moment spent towards finding you instead of going after my goals was worth it. I’ll set aside days, months, years-shit my whole fucking life to find you. So stop that.” He paused, looking around the room for a moment to gather his thoughts. Your whimpers had gone a bit quiet. Looking up at him almost a bit anxiously from his annoyed tone. Not feeling any better despite how passionate he was about saving you.

You still were curled in a ball with tears in your eyes and he wanted anything but that. So taking another deep shaky breath he continued in a softer tone. “You can do whatever you want during a battle and we all know my plans aren’t foolproof. If I didn’t listen to you, if this whole crew didn’t listen to you on occasion, this boat would be 100 feet under. You didn’t put us at risk, we’re always at risk.” His voice was stern but sincere. Looking down at your gorgeous face despite the tears just hoping and wishing you understood how he felt.

“Quit making it sound like you did something wrong…” He grumbled, scratching the back of his head lightly.

You didn’t say anything right away. Letting his words stew and ferment in your mind. They eased down into something more manageable. The silence between you is a bit uncomfortable but necessary. Kid eyeing you with a worried expression as you slowly composed yourself. Using the back of your hand to wipe your tears as you sniffled lightly. Unfurling yourself a bit and un-shoving half your face out of the pillow.

“Did they leave a note or did you just find me?” You murmured out, voice weak but more steady. Kid didn’t expect that to be your first question, he wanted to hear you forgive yourself but he supposed seeing you calmer was enough. His fingers fiddlingwith the legs of his boxers a bit to distract himself from how nervous he felt.

“There was nothing. I went to all the surrounding islands before I landed on the one you were at. The ‘boss’ of that so-called operation was planning to give your head to the navy. Spineless slimy fucking bastard should’ve never touched you. Shoulda never left you out there.” He didn’t look at you much as he spoke. Chewing on his words a bit and thinking it over. He could still see that boss in front of him. Spine ripped out clean as he lay there on the floor. His little spineless joke had made a few crew members laugh, but he held himself back from trying it on you. It wasn’t the time.

“Kid, you were busy fighting the big shots. That’s how it always works. I’m the idiot who got swept up when no one was watching.” Your voice came out more pleading. Not expecting Kid to be talking bad about himself for what happened. To you, it seemed like it was completely your fault, but clearly, Kid thought differently.

“First off, you're not an idiot. Smartest damn person I know.” He exclaimed, pointing his finger at you. His eyes meeting yours in a much more serious tone. “Secondly, I’m keeping you closer from now on and we're making you a vivire card. I don’t know why I haven’t until now. What a fucking idiot move that was.”

You watched as he swept back his hair again. The very soft-looking curls of his hair becoming more fluffy as they sat in a cute-looking wave on his head. You eyed him a bit, eyes narrowing as you regarded yet another way he was putting himself down. “Well if I can’t call myself an idiot then you can’t either. So stop that. You…thought you were enough to protect me. To keep me by your side at all times. That’s not an idiot move because you do protect me. You always have.” You tried to say that with so much certainty that Kid could feel it. But of course, he still seemed a bit pissed. Looking away from you again and back down at his lap.

“Well, aren’t you being too kind to a guy who let you down…” You frowned at that. Knowing for a fact Kid wasn’t the kind of guy who liked talking about his feelings you didn’t decide to dig deeper. But you still wanted to know what happened. Why Kid seems so bummed despite you being safe.

“You…you were covered in blood when I saw you down there. What…happened?” You asked quietly, picking together parts of your memory to try to make sense of it.

He hesitated. Swallowing thickly before giving you the only answer that wouldn’t make him out to be so…horrible. “I did my job.” It was a good enough answer. He could see by the way your eyes squinted it wasn’t quite what you wanted but you didn’t say anything more. “And don’t worry. The crew hosed me down before I got on the ship. Didn’t want to stain the tub. I knew you woulda clawed my eyes out if I did. But I washed us nice and clean. Under your nails and behind your ears and everything. You just conked out on my chest…which was rather cute by the way.”

The idea of you asleep against his chest as he washed you made your heart skip. Feeling a small smile quirk at your lips imagining him taking care of you so well. “I…I missed bath time? Dang it. I can never convince you to take a bath with me usually.”

“Well, you can put me in another one of those death traps soon if you want to.” Kid let out a sigh, feigning annoyance but smiling down at you regardless.

“Good because I was going to guilt you into it again anyway.” You quipped, your smile becoming more mischievous as you gripped onto the blanket near you and hid part of your blushing face.

Kid couldn’t help but laugh at that a little. Eyes narrowing as he watched you, his voice coming far out more smooth and sweeter. “Of course you were.”

“Oh and umm…thank you for cleaning me up. I wasn’t going to claw your eyes out necessarily. Getting covered in blood wasn’t your fault or anything.” You mumbled, fingers now tracing the texture of the blanket as you spoke.

Kid watched you for a second before responding. Chewing the truth and deciding to ask just in case you did remember too much. “It sorta was…I mean I overdid it. You don’t…remember too much of it right?” His voice hitched a bit at the end there. Eyes more wide and expectant as if he knew you were going to nag at him for how…extra he had been.

“Too much of what? I mean…I remember the guard getting…crushed. I don’t think I could ever forget that. And seeing you all covered in blood is still pretty vivid in my mind.” You said innocently as if even that didn’t bother you. You knew Kid could be a cruel man in battle and had gotten used to it. So you didn’t get what he seemed so worked up about.

“Well…that’s not exactly ideal but better than nothing.” Kid stroked his hair again, a nervous habit that always gave him away. The corners of his eyes tightened and his gaze went anywhere but you.

“What? Did something bad happen after you saved me?”

“More like…before I saved you. And it was all over the ground. Lots of guts and gross shit I don’t need you seeing.” Kid's answer rolled off his tongue awkwardly and slowly as if he was cringing the whole way through it.

“You saying I can’t handle gore and stuff? You know I can.”

You piping up defensively instead of in utter disgust for him was a bit of a shock. Kids lack an eyebrow raised in confusion. Looking over you and seeing that in fact you weren’t barfing in your mouth a little.

Well then clearly they didn’t see it. They weren’t lying.

“Well it was especially…gross this time. Even Killer complained that I accidentally splattered him.”

Your eyes widened at that. Finally putting it together just how far Kid must’ve gone when battling that crew. You looked him up and down a bit more carefully and still didn’t see a single wound. Which meant it wasn’t for fighting reasons, it was for you.

“Really? Well…shit. Killer is like…the king of being chill with a bunch of blood on him. Must’ve been bad.”

Killer really was the king of being okay with blood and gore. It's one of the reasons Kid had become so proficient in handling it himself. So for Killer to complain despite being the very man that taught Kid how to rip spines out cleanly was unexpected. Dare say concerning.

“It…was.” Kid swallowed a bit thickly, still almost ashamed of how he acted despite how good it felt. He was mainly just worried about your opinion of him. He didn’t want you knowing how brutal he could really be but from the light smile on your face, he realized you took it more as a compliment than anything.

“Then um…thank you for protecting me and my soft little mind.” You reached out timidly and touched his knee in front of you. Patting his thigh softly before mindlessly tracing little patterns on his skin. It made sparks fly up his spine feeling the soft pads of your fingers on him. His cheeks turning red as he watched your hand. Not at all interfering with the little ways you showed him you cared.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He said quietly, pausing for a moment before chewing on another thought. It made him nervous to say this. Hell, he would rather talk about anything else. But with a feigned layback attitude, he let it go. His heart far too heavy to keep it inside anymore. “Ya know…for a second there I thought you mighta left me. Got tired of the whole pirate life. Found some other man…to wash behind your ears.”

You listened to his soft mumbling, eyes hazy with tiredness now turning sharp from the shock. “Wah-Why would you ever think that Kid? I’d never leave you. Even thinking about it is making me uncomfortable.” You stopped tracing his thigh. Instead, planting your hand firmly onto it. Your head perking up out of the pillow to look at him more.

Kid half expected you to say something like that. You were always the more vocal one about your feelings compared to him. Whilst you were screaming at the tops of your lungs how much you loved him, Kid would only croak it out in private. Pale skin always cast in an embarrassed flush despite how long you two have been together. “I know I know. I bet the crew woulda said the same thing if I had told them. That you’re too smitten and in love with me to just…leave.”

“Well of course I am! I’m pathetically in love with you and if I ever did leave, which is never happening in a million years, I would have told you beforehand. I’m not some sort of…cruel person to just slink away like that.” That last part made you both frown immediately. Your face strewn with pain and Kids full of guilt.

“I know you’re not, I know. I just got…scared that maybe…I was the one who made you go away.” He could feel his stomach drop saying that. Immediately regretting that he even brought it up. You were back and safe and telling him you loved him yet he still felt like he was the problem.

You could see that look of unsureness written all over his face. It made your voice go firmer, hand gripping his thigh a bit tighter as you leaned your body upwards. “Kid I got captured and nearly beaten to death. Why would I ever choose that over you?”

“I know that now but when I was looking for you…god, I don’t know. This conversation is stupid.” Kid flopped over onto his back. Bouncing the bed slightly as he pressed his head into the pillow. His eyes closed yet his lips tilted into a twitching frown. As if he was trying to tackle something going on in his head.

You’re brow furrowed and your heart ached. Bridging the gap between the two of you as your chest softly pressed against his arm. He popped his eyes open, feeling you move around and press up against him. His mouth immediately opened in complaint. “Stop moving already you need to-”

His words were cut off as you tucked his lips into a deep and needy kiss. Propping your elbow up and laying your chest against his wide one. One of your hands tracing up his pec, the other going up to softly play with his hair. Usually, he always took the led but you beat him to it. Lapping your tongue against his unpainted lips before slipping inside. Drinking him in with slow languid movements that were slightly rough from passion. His rigid body relaxed beneath you as his hand made its way to the arch of your back.

Biting softly on his lip as you pulled away, a surprisingly soft loving smile adorned your rosy cheeks as he stared up at you, nearly bewildered. His sharp honey eyes were wide and glassy. His sweet-smelling skin a beautiful shade of pink.

“I love you, okay? I won’t ever stop loving you. No amount of pain or mistakes or anything you think is wrong with yourself would ever deter me. You bleed for me, you bleed others for me, and you are the reason my heart's still beating. And even if you didn’t do any of that, if you were the most unsuccessful and incapable person on this planet, I would still love you. So please stop making up reasons why I wouldn’t love you because it's an insult to how much I do. Which is a fuck-ton if I needed to say it clearer.”

You simply smiled at him as he took all of that in. Blinking in surprise as a little gasp of air came out of him. The kind of breath that he was probably holding in. But as soon as he did he softened even more, a light smirk on his lips as his hand ran up your back to touch your hair. “Did you have that speech prepared or does being perfect just come naturally to you?”

You let out a little giggle at that. Kid always had a way of turning even the most intimate moments into something sweeter. “Well it was originally supposed to be a part of my wedding vows to you but I tweaked it a bit to fit the moment. Did I do a good job?”

“An amazing job. Though you thinking about marriage already is going to give me heartburn. But if I had any feedback to give, I would say keep the fuck-ton part in. Lays it on thick ya know?”

“Will do handsome.” You mumbled through a smile. Easing yourself into a more comfortable position and laying your head on his soft chest. His hand immediately pressed against your lower back. Rubbing his rough yet warm calloused hands across you. Staring up at the ceiling as he let out another deep sigh.

“I love you.” He whispered. Voice a bit more rasp and his face full of bliss.

“I know ya do dummy.”

[ggyutarist]

some things you learned about love. ᯓᡣ𐭩

A/N: writers block kind of being a bitch rn. get friendzoned lol😂. its so easy and difficult to write angst ykwim?? count how many times i said ‘love’ here.

💫: Bsf!Beomgyu x GN Reader

Content: Just pure Unrequited Love with best friend Beomgyu.

WC: 817

It hurts. It hurts being the bestest of friends with Beomgyu. As well as being in love with him. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The person who makes your whole day better with just their mere presence, also makes it worse.

The constant reminders that he would never be yours lurk at the back of your head, but you paid no mind. If being his friend is the only way to keep him here, then so be it. You don’t care anymore.

You don’t care if all those hugs dragged on too long because you wished to hold him in your arms, as your lover. If you held his hand unusually tight so he wouldn’t run away and be yours forever. You continuously stare at his eyes that would not look back that same way you do, whatsoever. 

For him, he hugs you for so long because he has a lot of affection to display. He holds your hand, not for the reason you desperately want him to convey. He looks at you endearingly, unbeknownst to him, you return it in a different way.

His oblivion truly knows no bounds. Unfortunately for you, this would cause you to be stuck in a constant loop.

The loop of you falling in love with him, realizing it can’t be, and then he does a stupidly endearing thing, triggering the cycle all over again.

He taught you so much about this trivial thing called love. Yet, he can’t be your love. Your whole life, feels like falling apart just because of him. Why? Just because he happened to take the chance of being your first love? Or is it because of all the little things he showed you that love could be?

Giving you meaningless things he found that you would keep for years onwards.

Sharing his earphones to you so you both could escape this mundane world and listen to his playlist instead.

Giving you the fuller, well made drink to enjoy (after sipping on it himself obviously).

Long, thought over birthday letters from him for you to melt over as you read it in your room.

Remembering each of your favorite colors so he knows which item to get with which color.

Idiotic, really. Everyone would know these actions don’t automatically mean romantic. So why did your heart decide to take it otherwise? It grows painfully heavier by the minute as you think that, it won’t be you. Somewhere, in the future, someone else will steal his heart. His precious, precious heart that you want only for yourself. Cruel, is it not? He, unknowingly, shamelessly, steals your entire heart but ends up not giving his to you in return. 

To him, who reminds you of days where the sun is close to setting and it’s so pretty…but suddenly, there’s rain. The rain isn’t heavy, no. Just weightless drops accompanied by the sun’s warmth. That’s why it’s so Beomgyu to you.

His presence consists of the sun warming your monotonous days that limps along the passing seconds, minutes and hours. But it also has its rain. The pattering of rain reminds you that he’s always here. He’ll always let you know he’s here. Despite all that…what is real, you threw to the very back of your mind. Hoping to be forgotten. The continuous sound of the rain tells you that it simply cannot be. A story of you and him? It would be lost to a book filled with fantasy, tied to a tragic ending. You wouldn’t want that, would you? You wouldn’t want to see his smile fade away.

It prevents you from reaching out to the full warmth of the sun; you’ll get drenched on by the rain. The sound of the raindrops is comforting, albeit regretful. His ceaseless presence that supposedly provides you comfort, still keeps reminding you of your painful reality. You should’ve never fallen for him from the very start. You shouldn’t have but you did anyways.

How could you not? After all the time you spent with him, it would be impossible not to fall. You fall yet again and again with no regards to how hopeless your situation is. Yeah, it still hurts but you can numb it out…a bit.

You hope that one day, you will stop falling in love with him. Somewhere, there will be someone who like you like you like him. You will bring along all the love that you had stored in your heart and give it to someone else.

Then we move on and forget.

But how?

There are some things you learn about love. This one, however, is the only thing you cannot bring yourself to understand. How would you move on and forget about someone like him? You really don’t know but…

Until then, you’ll stay by his side, even if he stays in yours for not the same reason as you.

A/N: no you guys dont see that laufey and w2e reference shhhh. also no. neither did i expect the rhymes lol. the sun and raining scene was inspired by what actually happened while i was writing this.

also guys pls dont look like bots. how am i supposed to know ur a breathing human😞 just put a cute little pfp or smth and thats good enough. im getting worried my stuffs are just being liked by bots lol.

[maemelany]

RACING HEARTS - Part I: Miami

Well hello, 

Life happened, and I didn’t write a fanfic in … three years, lol. 

I did write an actual book and will probably publish it sometime next year – but I needed a break from it. So here’s a small something (don’t know if it’s going to be a series, no promises here) 

Anyway, I’m back and enjoy

Mae 

Summary: y/n is an influencer who is doing very well currently. She has no interest in F1 and only watches races because her little brother is a huge fan. So when a sponsor offers her passes for the Miami weekend with Mercedes, she cannot refuse and decides to surprise her little brother. 

But will he be the only one to be surprised? 

Warnings: none, just fluff 

Word count: 3.2k 

Part II here

Friday Practice Sessions

It was hot. You expected the sun to be out because it was Miami, after all, and you were glad you went with that light summer dress you got gifted by a brand after the Paris fashion week a few months ago. 

The paddock was full of celebrities, some you recognized and had seen before, and others you were simply starstruck to encounter in such a casual environment. Especially since it was still Friday, not even the actual race day. 

Of course, the Miami F1 weekend was big, and getting paddock tickets was a big deal. And even if you suddenly forgot how lucky you were, your little brother was there to remind you.  

Of course, you worked hard to get to where you were now. A few years back, brands couldn’t care less about you. You had to work hard, take your content to the next level, and be consistent—all that while working two jobs to invest in what you knew you were born to do. 

And it paid off. You were still shocked when people you’d only seen on TV knew your name or actors you fangirled on started conversing with you in red carpet lines. 

But really, days like today were what you were most grateful for. The best part of your work was making the people you loved enjoy life, and your brother was ecstatic. With the big age gap between you, you hadn’t had many opportunities to bond. Your brother was eighteen years younger than you and was born after your mother remarried and finally found the happiness she deserved. 

You loved your brother more than anything, but he wasn’t usually the most talkative nine-year-old boy around. 

Maybe he’d talked more since you’d arrived in Miami than he had this entire year. 

But it suddenly stopped when you got to the sponsor’s hospitality suit. Your brother was speechless as soon as he saw the car on display. You found it funny, recording all his reactions to share with your mom later. 

“Y/n, this is crazy. Look how big the tires are!” your brother said, kneeling in front of the car. 

You laughed and nodded. It still wasn’t your scene, but he made it exciting to be there. 

The sponsor’s hospitality suit was something else. Honestly, you weren’t expecting that level of comfort. You had access to free drinks and personalized merch, and they even told you one of the drivers would give you a tour of the circuit later. 

“Do you think we’ll see Lewis today?” Your brother asked 

You chuckled. You may have been a novice in F1, but Lewis Hamilton, that was a name you recognized. 

Not only because he was your little brother’s hero but because you had seen him from afar a few times at events over the years. 

“I don’t think so, but we’ll definitely see him drive.” 

And, of course, you were wrong. 

About an hour after you made that statement, a few gasps, including your brother’s, distracted you from your phone, and you looked up. 

They were pretty far from where you stood, but you could see them. Lewis and George were there, all smiles and already talking to people. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Y/n, do you see what I see?!” your brother cried out. 

You couldn’t help but laugh again. Your brother, who was usually so reserved, was so excited you barely recognized him. 

“Well, let’s go meet them before you pass out,” you said, taking his hand. 

You made your way to the small group around the drivers, waiting patiently for a chance to interact. You could tell your brother was getting more nervous, his gentle and timid nature taking over. 

It was George who noticed and approached you first. He shook your hand and nicely introduced himself to both of you. Your brother tried to keep it cool, only betrayed by how he squeezed your hand. It was only when he asked for a picture with George that things took a turn. 

“What tires do you think you’ll use tomorrow? Please don’t go for the hard again; your car is already lacking pace,” your brother suddenly asked. 

George looked surprised by the question, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Yep, the geek was back with a vengeance. 

Maybe it was George’s face or your loud laugh, but something caught Lewis’ attention, and he stared in your direction before approaching. 

“Y/n?” Lewis said, now, close to your small group 

George raised an eyebrow. “You guys know each other?” 

Lewis did not break eye contact with you and nodded. “You can say that we’ve bumped into each other before.” 

You bit your lip. You wished he had forgotten that. It was the weirdest exchange you’d ever had. You did talk to Lewis once in New York. The event organizer had introduced you, and Lewis was a sweetheart. He was all smiles and shook your hand. He had introduced himself in such a humble way as if half the world did not know who he was. 

But when it was your turn to introduce yourself, things went wrong. You couldn’t pinpoint what destabilized you so much, his angelic face or how he looked at you, but you mumbled something you weren’t sure he understood and then said the most cringy thing ever. ‘I love your dog’

The awkward gene was either running in the family, or there was something about F1 drivers that brought out people's weirdness. 

“I didn’t think you’d remember that,” you finally said, blinking a few times. 

“Oh, I do remember,” Lewis said with a mischievous smile. 

Your brother squeezed your hand, reminding you that people were still around you. 

“Oh, and this is my little brother, y/b/n. He’s a huge fan of yours,” you said 

Lewis kneeled in front of your brother to be at his height. “Nice to meet you, y/b/n. I’m Lewis.”

Your brother frowned and looked at Lewis, then the hand that he was reaching out to him.

Watching your baby brother meet his idol was the funniest thing, and you took out your camera to record it. 

Your brother finally shook Lewis’s hand, telling him how much he loved him. 

“Aww,” you whispered, watching the interaction from your camera lens. 

Lewis looked up at you and smiled before focusing again on your brother. He spent a good ten minutes talking to you both, answering every question your brother had, and even laughing with you at the odd ones your brother shot his way. 

“Lewis, we have to go.” a man approached you and said 

Lewis finally stood up and looked at you with a huge smile. You could feel your cheeks getting warmer and tinkling. Lewis was hot, making it even more destabilizing because he wasn’t even trying. His natural charm and kindness were already enough, but his looks were just a bonus - A bonus you weren’t complaining about. 

“It was really nice chatting with you. And I can’t wait to compete against you in a few years, big guy.” Lewis said 

Your brother frowned. “I’m still karting; you will be gone by the time I’m in F1.” 

Lewis laughed, not at all offended by your brother taking things so literally. 

“I’ll try to wait for you.”   

He smiled one last time at you before saying goodbye. 

None of you said a word for a few minutes. Both of you sinking in what had just happened. 

“Lewis Hamilton is a cool guy,” your brother finally said 

“Yep, he is,” you said, chuckling. 

Your brother had explained what would happen today, but you did not pay attention to his explanation. But now, it suddenly felt more interesting than you thought it would be. 

The cars were fast—faster than on TV, and nothing compared to the many karting races you’ve watched your brother run. 

“And they do that for hours on Sunday?” you asked 

“Yep,” your brother said, a massive smile on his face. 

You could tell he was imagining himself in one of those fast cars one day. And you promised yourself to do whatever you could to help him achieve his dreams. 

Lewis did great during the practice sessions, at least according to your brother's detailed commentary when you asked him if he enjoyed his day.

You were about to leave the paddock with your brother when you heard someone shout your name. 

You turn around to find a man running after you. You frowned, trying to remember if you knew him but couldn’t remember ever meeting that person. 

Still, you stopped, waiting for him to reach you. 

“I’m so sorry for screaming like that. I’m Jamie, I’m on Lewis’s PR team.” 

“Oh, okay…” 

You weren’t sure what to say or why someone from Lewis’ team was looking for you. You patiently waited for the man to catch his breath and tell you what was happening. 

“Sorry… you two walk pretty fast, you know,” he said, chuckling 

He then handed you two yellow passes. You were even more confused. 

“These are VIP tickets for tomorrow and Sunday. Lewis wanted you to have it.”

The confusion was only growing now. Why did Lewis want you to have VIP tickets? Weren’t the paddock tickets already VIP ones? This day, this sport was only getting weirder by the second. 

Jamie must have spotted your confusion because he proceeded to explain what the tickets would allow you to do. Basically, they would allow you access to the garage, the cars, and the Mercedes team during the races. 

“Sick!” your brother said, excited. 

You thanked him and returned to your hotel, wondering why Lewis gave you the tickets. 

Once in your hotel room, you kept thinking about it. You decided not to read too much about it and to accept that it must be a kind gesture to your little brother. Lewis must have seen how passionate he was about F1 and what a gift it would be for someone like him to watch the races up close, next to the people who actually made it happen. 

It had to be why because you refused to believe it could be more. You refused to believe it could be about you. 

You decided to share some content on your social media to change your mind. After all, that was why you were offered the tickets in the first place. 

You went on Instagram, ready to share more about the day on your feed, but you couldn’t help but go on Lewis’s profile. You had a huge smile when you saw his latest post, a picture of him and Roscoe entering the paddock earlier today. 

You were about to leave his page when something odd caught your attention. It said follow back, not just follow. You went blank for a few seconds before realizing what was going on. 

He followed you. It couldn’t have happened a long time ago; it had to be today. So you scrolled through your notifications and found it. He did start following you today, and just like that, your mind started spiralling again. 

You followed him back but did not say anything. Again, you preferred to avoid any assumptions. 

Saturday Qualifications

It was very hot, just like the day before. But there were more people today, as the qualification sessions were more entertaining and significant. 

Your brother was super excited about seeing the actual racing cars and being able to touch them. He even knew some of the engineers’ names and couldn’t wait to meet them. 

When you arrived at the Mercedes motorhome, Jamie met you, the same guy who gave you the tickets the day before. He gave you a small tour of the place, and your brother took pictures of the most basic things. 

You passed George’s room, but he was busy, and you couldn’t say hi. But when you were in front of Lewis’s room, you found yourself hoping you could see him. Just to thank him for the tickets, you told yourself. 

“Look who we’ve got here. Hello guys,” Lewis said when he saw you 

He gave your brother a fist bump before turning to you. Suddenly, you didn’t know what to do, give him a fist bump too, or just wave or… 

You didn’t have time to overthink it as Lewis pulled you into a quick hug. It wasn’t that deep; it could even be classified as a half hug, but still, it was enough for your heart to miss a bit. 

You could feel his toned arm around you and how he smelled so good. Again, your cheeks were starting to betray you, so you looked down. 

“Thank you for the tickets, Lewis. Y/b/n is never going to forget this weekend.” 

“I’m happy he’s having fun. I hope you’re having fun, too.” 

“Oh, I am. Not gonna lie, I’m not the big fan here; he is,” you said, pointing at your brother, who was now talking with an engineer. “But it’s growing on me. I don’t know if it’s the special treatment or the actual driving, but I like it,” you said, laughing. 

Lewis was still looking at you; his smile didn’t move. It only became more mischievous. “We can test that theory right now.” 

Something told you the driver was up to no good. “I’m not sure I like this look, Lewis,” you said 

He laughed this time. His laugh was just contagious. 

A few minutes later, with a few waivers signed and a helmet on your head, you were inside a car with Lewis on the other side. 

“Did I mention that I don’t like speed? I did, right? I barely passed my driving license; I don’t even like cars,” you mumbled as he started the engine. 

The people outside were laughing; even your brother was laughing outside, recording it all. Everybody found it funny, but you didn’t. 

“Please don’t go too far,” you said, turning to face Lewis 

He had that smile again. The one that clearly stated that he was up to no good. “Now, where would be the fun in that?” 

You didn’t have time to argue as he started the car. The sound alone made you scream. He was fast. You could feel your heart beating; it felt like being in the front row of a roller coaster. 

“Oh my god! Lewis!” you screamed again as he took a corner at a speed you couldn’t comprehend. 

“So, do you like the sport more now?” he asked you, smiling 

“Hell no, this is madness,” you said, relieved as you could see the garage getting closer 

“Wrong answer,” Lewis said, accelerating again and missing the stop line. 

“Lewis!” you screamed, but he had found it amusing because he went even faster, something you didn’t think was possible at this stage. “Oh my god, I’m so going to die.” 

He laughed. “No, you’re not. I’m a seven-time champion, remember?”

“Eight. My brother told me eight.” You said, knowing exactly what you were doing. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Lewis said, laughing 

In the end, you did three laps. The last one was the worst. You screamed so much Lewis couldn’t stop laughing. It was pure chaos. 

When you got out of the car, you immediately removed your helmet and turned around to Lewis. 

“You do that for a living? Are you okay?” you asked 

He laughed again. “This doesn’t even get close to the feeling you get in the actual racing car, you know.” 

You turned around to look at your brother, who was still recording. Suddenly, you were happy that he was too young to have the same experience. 

“And you want to do that later too? You want to drive like a crazy person for a living?” 

He just nodded as if it was the silliest question ever. 

You spent another hour with Lewis and the crew, talking about the car and watching them prepare for the qualifying session. 

Even when the atmosphere got more serious, Lewis was still pleasant, talking to you and making you feel included. He took the time to explain some basic things. Things that your little brother did not have the patience or time to explain to you. Y/b/n had found a spot close to the pit wall and was too mesmerized to pay attention to you. 

You watched as Lewis and George completed their laps. The team seemed pretty happy with the final results. While they did not get pole position, Lewis ended up P3 and George P5. That was good enough, considering how they started the season. 

Race Day

Your brother was awake before the sun even rose. He sang in the shower, repeating every five seconds that it was race day like you didn’t know. 

He would make you hate the sport at this pace instead of liking it. 

Y/b/n insisted that you both wear some Mercedes merch you were gifted the day before, and of course, no was not an answer he was willing to take. 

So you ended up in the garage, wearing a white Mercedes t-shirt with George’s 63 in the back. 

The atmosphere was different; it felt electric, and you liked it. You couldn’t experience backstage that way in any other sport.  And it didn’t hurt to have Tom Cruise next to you, making jokes and chatting as if you were old friends. 

“Now, that’s offensive.” 

You recognized Lewis’s voice before you even turned around. He was already in his race suit, sunglasses on. That man knew what he was doing for sure. 

It took you a few seconds to remember what he just said. You asked what he meant, and he removed his sunglasses, using them to point at your t-shirt. 

“After the thrills I gave you, you’re rocking George’s number on your back? I’m offended, y/n” 

You laughed and explained yourself. “There was no way I was wearing that purple sweater under this heat, Lewis. It was the only white t-shirt my brother was okay with me wearing.” 

“So you would have worn mine if it weren’t for the heat?” he asked, smirking. 

Again, you could feel your cheeks betraying you. But you didn’t back down. You stared right at him and nodded. “Yes, I’m more of a 44 girl.” 

“I like that,” Lewis said, smiling at you. 

As much as you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t. It was there. You liked the smiles, those little stares, and the attention Lewis gave you. At this stage, it was pure attraction; you didn’t know him that well, but the little you had seen only made you more attracted to him. The way he was always laughing and how he treated your brother and his team. You wouldn’t say no to getting to know him better.

You watched the race, finding yourself rooting openly for him and celebrating with the team when he finished at the second place. 

You watched him celebrate with his loved ones; the champagne part was definitely your favourite. Nobody told you that you got to see hot, sweaty men - especially Lewis - pouring champagne and getting champagne poured at them. 

A sight for sore eyes indeed. 

Things got hectic after the race. Between the interviews Lewis had to do, the other people he had to meet, and the flight you had to catch as your brother had school the following day – you didn’t have time to say goodbye. 

It felt unfinished. You wished you had time to talk more, but you were still happy you and y/n/b got to experience that. 

You were already in your seat on the plane when you got the notification from Instagram. You couldn’t help but grin as you read it. 

[frutia]

⭐️a little rant on the north node&south node axis for those who care⭐️

the people who guided me and from whom i received advice had placements on my north node, while the people from whom i received emotional support had placements on my south node. you cannot play the north node game without the south node. the south node consists of people who understand, listen to, and support you amidst all the world's worries. the people in your north node are those who help you grow and improve. i have moon, sun, mercury, and venus conjunctions with my mother, father, boyfriend, and closest friends on my south node. meanwhile, saturn and the sun of my favorite teacher in this life are on my north node, and another person's ascendant, whose advice i value so much, is in conjunction with my north node. they help me improve my worldview with their worldview. rather than saying that the people in your south node are the ones who hold you back, i think they are the "piston power" people who say, "come onnnn buddy, you won't give up like that! you can do it, you can succeed, you got this" pushing you forward to achieve your goals yk. whenever you can't succeed or make progress, they will still be there, always supporting and encouraging you. they will help you start again. when you complete your north node journey successfully and look back, you will see each and every valuable person who helped you along the road and contributed to your success. "loyalty" is the key word of the south node. the people in your north node are not specifically obligated to be loyal to you. on the contrary, you keep them in your life because they help you grow. they do not benefit from you, you benefit from them. however, the people in your south node are those who have seen your lowest moments and who will always be by your side. they are the people who remain loyal to you. with all the people who conjuncted their sun, moon, or even mars with my south node, i had the most fun times; we shared secrets, we laughed, and i felt alive. this is even more accurate if your ketu is strong in your chart, like mine. my ketu is in scorpio in the 12th house. when i say ketu connections have always been binding in my life, i mean it.

if you are among those who believe that the south node connections in synastry are wicked, i hope this writing has allowed you to think from a different perspective.

[notllorstel]

Please do not ignore my post, as it may be the last thing I write

I am Rehab and my husband Hussein are from Gaza

I have two children 🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

Our house was demolished due to the bombing, and we are now living in a street battle in the middle of Khan Yunis. I gave birth to a baby in a tent in a field hospital to prepare for difficult operations, and the heat of the sun inside the tents cannot be tolerated.

Thank you all for your donation 🙏🍉

Your donation will save family life Donate even 20$

Thank you 🍉❤️

https://gofund.me/67c82bf4

Rehab and Hussien's capaign is $34,210USD raised of the $40,000 goal!

Vetted

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Teaser thoughts

I had to do adulting (leave for a suddenly rescheduled appt) 20 mins after the trailer dropped this morning, so I'm only now starting to get my thoughts settled but omg I have to write this stuff down or how will I know what I think

here we go

Rayllum flying together. Is it cute, romantic, or is it some twist where they're going somewhere for horrible reasons in a hurry and they can't even take the Shadowpaw. Where is the Shadowpaw why are they fl-

Does Ethari have his Shadowpaw back is that why they have to fly

Love the bisexual vibes here ngl

Starscraper is over land. It's not a deep thought shhh

The search for Zubeia. I'm curious why Ezran has let two of his best Crownguard leave his side. Surely this will have no consequences!

Janaya kiss with Amaya on her tippy toes. Janai has her crown on here. I feel that's relevant for uhh later. I hope this is real and not a dream Janai is having - those have not been going well for her.

This one makes me sad. The picture is torn, but then mended, and I love that. But it's set up like you'd see at a funeral.

Is this one super early on in episode 1 maybe? It could be the same night as the end of S5. That feels more likely than Terry catching up to Claudia later on... specifically in her allowing him close after what we got in the other trailer. Aahhh

This one has so much in it, I can't! It's got star bug stuff which I'm extremely here for, let the gods be gooey. It's got the whole quasar diamond crown right there. It's got Rayllum having a close moment. and it's posed like they're at the altar in a chapel getting married. Also the star is upside down in the stained glass window, so whatever theme is going on it's being consistent there.

This is one of my favorites: Ezran out on his own castle bridge defending it. Ye Olde Narrative of Strength got to him! Opeli looking worried has me worried - she's usually so certain and swift. This could be Viren trying to come home like a half drowned rat - will they let him in? Don't make me think of the men of Númenor right now, do not.

Battle couple battle couple! Rayla and Callum teaming up again! (she's the dark blob kicking free in the upper left) I love when a couple fights together. gonna be super normal about that.

This top down view of the Starscraper is a little dizzying, ngl. With Callum and Rayla tiny at the bottom, three floors down, these flying, circling elves give me shark vibes. What if they're not nice. like at all.

Why was Stella falling!? what are the Celestials doing, are they helping or are they trying thievery? Is this just a big mob of seagulls here

Janai is losing control of her emotions, she's furious and sad. She's setting fire to the Sun Seed tree. We know the Seed was stolen, but maybe this is her finding out, early on. It's less angsty if it's early, you know how things always get Worse during the course of a TDP season lmfao. If it's later on, maybe the fact that she isn't wearing her crown is... important.

Rayla in the frozen ship. Why's it burning, what's she there for? why did she go alone? This gives me some Banther Lodge infiltration vibes ngl.

Okay I am all about this altercation. Viren shoving Kpp'Ar to the floor in fury. are they arguing about Soren? dark magic? both? neither? What's the logo stand for, what's the I for in IK? Does he have a show called It's Kpp'Ar and they're just on set? lmfao the real reason there are gears everywhere is to change the rooms around isn't it. Kpp'Ar just got sick of those extra 29 steps to the kitchen.

Few things are scarier than a True Believer getting everything he wants. this shot of Karim being so filled with elation cannot be saying good things for Janai's prospects. He's got all kinds of cool Sunfire stuff on, too, including a crown, and his old tin ring from his mother. Those things were confiscated when he was exiled, which means he must not be exiled anymore. He could be king, having displaced Janai somehow, and he's fulfilling his intentions to his people by bringing back the glory of the Sunfire elves by healing their injured archdragon. Or so he hopes, anyway! We'll see if it works.

Sol Regem has come out of his cave and he's got that Power Dragon Wingspread going on. Looks like he's been convinced to take a swing for uhhh big dragon things! I wonder how far his power will reach... and his bitterness. We might get a new Dragon King that makes Avizandum look soft.

It's so interesting to me what we did not get to see in the teaser, too. There's no Aaravos, no Aanya, no Runaan or Ethari, no Kim'dael. If we get another trailer before July 26, maybe they'll be in there! Or maybe we'll just have to white knuckle it until release day.

Hold on tight! S6 is coming!

[not-poignant]

Daily excerpt from today's writing, chapter 25 of Palmarosa:

‘Your naivete is very nearly charming,’ Raphael said, smiling above him. ‘Do you know how many I’ve witnessed in these moments of tumult and conflict? Almost enough to know exactly what thoughts move through your insignificant mind. I took you out of the dusty dark and restored you, saved you, and you mock me before strangers.’ ‘I want- I think I want to go ahead with the second contract. I don’t want to wait any longer.’ Raphael’s cold smile broadened. ‘If we’re sharing our thoughts, Astarion, then I think I want to punish you first for consistently breaking with our first contract. A more patient devil would wait, but I’ve been patient enough. Besides, I shan’t be too cruel. It will be proportionate, I assure you.’ Astarion was rather losing his appetite. ‘Now?’ Astarion said. ‘And if I…don’t want to commit to the second contract?’ ‘Oh, you will,’ Raphael practically purred. ‘You’ll bear my marks and bruises and you still will. Haven’t you realised that the reason no gods heed you, is that you already have one that you cannot forsake no matter what?’ Astarion stared up at him in confusion. Raphael crouched down, eyes flashing golden-amber. ‘It is the sun, my aberrational wretch. All of you fear it, but your lives revolve around it. It’s all you’ve ever wanted since you lost it, and you’ll choose it before you’d choose your own sanity. So here you are, quite mad, and watch – Astarion, my pet – you’re about to agree to the punishment, and walk with me quite willingly, and still sign your signature in blood at the end of the day.’

[sky-kiss]

Hi! This might be weird, but it's been with me for quite a while and been meaning to share this with you/prompt you with it/get your take/whatever 😁. What about Raphael failing with his coup and having to live on the material plane without his powers? What about Tav/Durge OR Jaheira offering his sorry ass a place and then getting the joy of watching him struggle with common human ailments, like needing reading glasses, throwing out his back, indigestion,... ? 😅

Not weird at all! I'm unfortunately in like work/school hell right now, so I don't have a lot of writing time. But I love this idea. It'd be really fun to develop as like. A slow burn quasi humor ficlet.

God. I don't have a ton of ideas for a generic Tav/Durge (I don't enjoy writing them), but will try and come up with a few.

As for Jaheira:

Offers Raphael a room in Astarion's mansion. Neither of the lads question this.

Ends up staying in her basement.

Rion wants to know why mother-dearest is smuggling men into their home. Then she meets the man. She understands why he should never be seen.

Harper Recruit Raphael. It takes him a few days to get truly charismatic in the way mortals appreciate and not just "veiled threats, but charming."

Replaces the contents of Jaheira's wine cellar with "wine less suited to a vulgar, and altogether common, palette."

Is grateful for the silence of her study.

Cannot keep a plant alive to save his mortal life.

Offers to make a deal with the daughter that wants to be queen---has to bunk with Astarion for a month as punishment.

Actually, gets genuinely good at the Harper business, enjoys the political aspect of it (he's just softening up the city for when he returns to his true form, dear)

Takes a copious amount of naps in the sun.

Furious whenever he has to sleep outdoors. He's a noble devil, not some peasant boy.

Near-sighted. He refuses to wear glasses until the half-elf says they look "learned. dashing. whatever you need to hear, little prince---so long as you can see."

Tav/Durge:

More contentious. Tav/Durge is younger and prone to more zany antics. Raphael's mortal body gets tired more easily.

Their penchant for chaos is less endearing when he's consistently thrown into the warpath.

Enlists them to try and get his powers backs.

Enemies to lovers.

Still near-sighted. Tav does not think to recommend glasses. Raphael refuses to adjust.

It's a lot more of a learning curve for both of them? Tav/Durge is like a wind. Raphael is very constant.

You can determine if they work it out. :D

Apologies for this not being something more. I love the idea. I'd love to steal it later. Always feel free to drop byyyyy.