#i never watched the original so i have no stakes in if it lives up to its legacy

[ipcearn]

I don't know what happened but I am somehow watching the Gossip Girl Reboot?

I was watching two vids about how terrible it was and got curious

And it is not nearly as terrible as I expected

It's not great, but it is weirdly entertaining

Obviously the building triad is intriguing me the most and Thomas Doherty is definitely the best actor among the student cast

Could definitely do without the plot of Max pursuing Rafa, because even if they stress that he's 18, that's still his teacher and that weirds me out, always

Edit: apparently Max is 17?? I distinctly remember Max calling himself legal to Rafa before but Aki just said he is 17 (granted I can absolutely see Max lying, but Rafa not even double checking is absolutely making me want to throw him in a volcano)

Edit 2: okay, legal/capable of consent in NY means 17, still really, really, really gross

[et7432]

Not Without Permission

(Klaus Mikaelson)

(Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Summary: Elena and Damon leave (Y/N) behind at the last untouched safehouse in Mystic Falls, the one place where the Originals can't just waltz in. It's a temporary peace, and they need her to stay put while they go after an ancient artifact that could change everything. Before they go, they make it crystal clear—no one gets inside, no matter what. The stakes are too high. But when a familiar, dangerous face shows up at the door—Klaus Mikaelson himself—(Y/N)’s calm is about to be tested. Charming, persuasive, and never without a few tricks up his sleeve, Klaus doesn’t take no for an answer. Will she keep the door locked, or will the deadly allure of the Original hybrid be enough to crack her resolve?

I pouted quietly, as I watched Damon and Elena leaving without me. It was my way of masking the yearning for adventure that I couldn't join in on.

"Listen carefully. Your house is the only place in town that the Originals cannot enter. No one can enter without an invitation, no exceptions - not even if someone is bleeding on your doorstep," Damon warns.

"I understand, Damon. Safe haven, magical barrier, invite-only."

Elena struggled with another duffel bag and hauled it to Damon's car trunk.

"It's true, (y/n). We can't risk it."

"Then let me come with you." I walked down the porch steps. "I've been researching those artifacts for weeks. I could be of assistance-"

"No." Elena slammed the trunk. "You need to stay here where it's safe. Plus, don't you have that history report about the 1920s due?"

"Seriously? You're using homework as an excuse while you're out hunting for ancient magical objects?"

"I'd rather do homework than hunt for ancient magical objects that could get you killed," Damon called out as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Elena gave me a quick hug. "We'll be back before you know it."

I watched them get inside the car, frustration boiling within me. The engine roared to life, and Damon rolled down his window.

"Remember - don't open the door for anyone!" His voice carried across the lawn.

"Of course, dad!" I replied sarcastically, putting all my teenage angst into those three words.

The car disappeared down the street, leaving me alone on my supposedly safe front lawn, feeling like a useless researcher stuck in some supernatural time-out.

The desk lamp cast a harsh glow across my laptop screen. The cursor blinked against the white document - mocking me with its steady rhythm. Only my name and the date stared back: "(y/n) Matthews, October 15th."

The cicadas droned outside my window, their endless chirping a symphony of late-night procrastination. I drummed my fingers against the desk, scrolling through my research notes for the thousandth time. Prohibition. Speakeasies. The Jazz Age. My brain refused to string two coherent sentences together about any of it.

I glanced at my phone. 9:47 PM. No messages from Elena or Damon.

"The 1920s represented a period of..." I typed, then deleted it. Too generic.

"In the wake of World War I..." Backspace, backspace, backspace.

The cicadas grew louder, their sound bleeding through my closed window. I pushed back from my desk and paced the room, my sock-covered feet silent against the hardwood floor. My history textbook lay open on the bed, its pages filled with black and white photos of flappers and Model T's.

"This would be so much easier if I could just interview an actual person who lived through it," I muttered, throwing myself back into my desk chair. The leather creaked under my weight. "But no - stay home, (y/n). Do your homework, (y/n). Do the responsible thing, (y/n). Don't get killed by thousand-year-old vampires, (y/n)."

The flashing line on my screen taunted me. I couldn't help imagining what adventures Elena and Damon were having - undoubtedly more exciting than watching an empty screen mock my progress.

I slumped forward, letting my brow make contact with the smooth desktop surface. Overhead, my study light buzzed softly, a constant electrical hum that matched my brain's static.

The peaceful stillness of the night shattered as three sharp knocks echoed through the house. My heart pounded in my chest.

More knocks followed, each one deliberate and measured. I knew it wasn't Damon's impatient pounding or someone in need of help.

I descended the stairs cautiously, avoiding the creaky spots I had memorized long ago. The atrium light cast eerie shadows across the hardwood floor.

"Who is it?" I called out, trying to mask the uncertainty in my voice.

"Good evening," came a refined voice from beyond the door. "Forgive the late hour, but I'm searching for Elena Gilbert. I was told she might be here."

As soon as I heard his words, the hair on my neck stood on end and a shiver ran down my spine. I immediately recognized that voice.

“Well, she’s not here,” I said firmly, glad my voice didn’t waver. "And even if she was, she wouldn't want to talk to a vampire like you."

The man's chuckle turned into a low growl. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I know who you are." I stepped back from the door, though the barrier spell made the distance unnecessary. "And I know you can't come in."

A low chuckle drifted through the wood. "Clever girl. Elena mentioned you. Haven't I seen you before a few times? - the studious one, always with her nose in a book. Tell me, what are you reading these days?"

"Nothing that would interest you." My fingers gripped the banister behind me, steadying my shaking legs.

"On the contrary, I find human persistence fascinating. The way you dig through dusty tomes and piece together fragments of the past..." His voice moved along the porch, closer to the window. "Speaking of the past, I hear you're writing about the 1920s. I could tell you stories that would make your paper absolutely..." A tap against the wooden door. "Riveting."

My throat went dry as I realized the truth - he had been alive during those times. He probably danced in speakeasies and roamed the gas-lit streets. But how did he know about my writing? Was he watching me earlier, lurking and listening to my conversation with Elena and Damon?

"I have no interest in your stories," I said, trying to keep him talking. I knew Elena would want to know that he was back in town, but my phone was upstairs on my desk, out of reach.

"No? Shame. I particularly enjoyed Chicago during Prohibition. The music, the fashion... the absolute lawlessness of it all. Your textbooks couldn't possibly capture the true spirit of the era."

Each word dripped with casual menace, reminding me of every story I'd heard about his victims. The countless lives he'd ended with that same conversational tone.

"Why are you really here?" I forced steel into my voice, channeling Elena's courage.

"Direct. I like that." Another tap, this time back at the door. "Very well. Since Elena's not answering her phone, perhaps you could pass along a message?"

My hand trembled over the doorknob. Every survival instinct screamed to run upstairs, but a deeper part of me knew - if Klaus wanted to deliver a message, he'd find a way. At least the barrier spell would protect me.

I twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

Klaus stood on my porch, hands clasped behind his back. The porch light caught the angles of his face, casting shadows that made him look more a statue than man. His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Brave little thing, aren't you?" He cocked his head. "Most humans who know what I am wouldn't dare."

I rested on the door frame. "The barrier spell works both ways. You can't get in, and I can't accidentally step out."

"Clever too." He took a single step closer, stopping just short of the invisible line. "Though I must say, opening doors to monsters - even with magical protection - shows questionable judgment."

"You said you had a message." I lifted my chin, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"Indeed." His eyes locked onto mine, and I fought the urge to look away. "But now I'm far more intrigued by you. Standing here, trembling yet defiant. Tell me, what makes someone choose to face their fears instead of hiding from them?"

"Maybe I'm tired of hiding." The words spilled out before I could stop them. "Maybe I'm tired of being the one left behind to stay safe while my friends risk their lives."

Klaus's smile widened, showing teeth. "Now that's honesty I can appreciate."

I swallowed hard, regretting my outburst. Every story I'd heard about Klaus started with someone letting their guard down, sharing too much.

"The message." I squared my shoulders. "What do you want me to tell Elena?"

"Straight to business?" He traced a finger along the door frame, stopping at the barrier's edge. "And here I thought we were having such a lovely chat about your academic pursuits."

"It's late, and I have homework to finish."

"Ah yes, your paper." His hand dropped to his side. "Though I suspect your mind's no longer on dance halls and bootleggers."

"Klaus." I forced myself to sound more direct. "The message?"

His expression shifted, playfulness vanishing like smoke. "Tell her I found what we discussed in Chicago. The item she's searching for? It's not what she thinks. And if she continues down this path..." He leaned forward, close enough that I could see flecks of gold in his eyes. "Well, let's just say some treasures are better left buried."

"That's cryptic, even for you."

"Consider it a courtesy warning. I do so hate to see wasted potential." He stepped back, adjusting his jacket cuffs. "Whether that potential belongs to Elena or yourself remains to be seen."

Goosebumps appeared on my skin from his words. "I'll tell her."

"My thanks for being such a reliable messenger bird." He gave a slight bow and turned his back to me walking away.

Klaus's silhouette started blending into the dimness of nightfall along the asphalt street, an impulsive need shot up my spine making my heart hammer against its cage; an acknowledgement of shared knowledge perhaps? Against all better judgement and advice whispering urgently for silence in my ear, I called out to him,

"Klaus!"

"Wait." As I called out his name, Klaus froze in place, his body still and tense as if carved from a block of cold, white marble. His face revealed a struggle, with furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he wrestled with conflicting emotions.

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned on his heel, his determined steps leading him back to my home.

The sound of his shoes crunching against the gravel path echoed through the quiet evening air as he strode purposefully towards me. Klaus was back on my porch as close to me as he could get this time without touching the invisible barrier.

"Yes?" His tone was casual, but his expression remained unreadable as he took in my call. Curiosity laced his low baritone voice. Despite the tension in his posture, he exuded a sense of grace and anticipation with a slight turn of his head and a raised eyebrow.

"I was wondering... if you could tell me about the 1920s?" I gesture helplessly. "But you'd have to stay on the porch, obviously."

His lips curved into an amused smile. "Curiosity wins over caution? How delightfully human."

"You can sit." I backed away from the door. "Let me just-"

I darted to the living room, dragging one of the heavy wooden chairs from our dining set. Its legs scraped across the floor as I pushed it through the doorway, over the threshold.

Klaus caught the chair with one hand, positioning it with casual grace. "Such hospitality."

"Can I get you something to drink?" My heart hammered against my ribs. "Not... I mean, obviously not blood, but..."

"Scotch, if you have it." He settled into the chair. "Your father keeps a decent collection, as I can tell."

I froze. "How did you-"

"The cabinet right at the end of the hallway," He looked straight ahead. "I make it my business to know these things."

I found myself walking to our alcohol cabinet, hands shaking as I reached for the crystal decanter. The amber liquid caught the lamplight as I poured a generous measure into a glass.

When I returned, Klaus looked almost relaxed and at ease—something I had never seen in him before. I felt ridiculous, but I couldn’t take any chances with the unpredictable original. I quickly put the glass down on the ground and grabbed an umbrella from near the front door, using it to push the glass past the barrier.

“Really, love? A bit overly cautious?” he remarked, accepting the scotch as he leaned down to pick up the glass.

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be too cautious around you, Klaus,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

I paused in disbelief as the reality sank in: an old vampire, let alone an original, was willing to help me with my school paper. "Hold on, I need to grab a few things," I mumbled under my breath before quickly climbing the stairs to retrieve my laptop and phone.

I also snatched a thick blanket, anticipating the cool air outside at this time of night.

Making my way back down the stairs, I bundled myself in the warm blanket and settled in the doorway, tucking my legs under for added coziness. With my laptop balanced on my lap, I turned to face him.

He sat across from me with a playful smile on his face, his words laced with flirtatiousness. "You are a most intriguing creature," he declared, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

My gaze traveled over his handsome features, admiring every detail - from the sharp angle of his jaw to the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Feeling a blush spread across my cheeks, I cleared my throat nervously. "Sh-should we get started?" I stammered.

"By all means," Klaus responded, raising his glass in a small toast before taking a sip of the scotch. "But where would you like to start? The Roaring Twenties were quite an eventful decade, after all."

I chewed at my bottom lip momentarily, scanning the information I had already collected on my screen. "Gangsters and speakeasies," I finally said. "Prohibition and the rise of organized crime."

His mouth quivered upwards slightly into a smile. "A fascinating period indeed." He leaned back in his chair, looking every inch the relaxed gentleman. Yet, there was an ominous stillness about him that contradicted his comfortable appearance.

He began to speak, describing the decadence and vibrancy of the 1920s with a vividness that only someone who lived through it could possess. His stories were filled with tales of moonshine and jazz, of raucous parties and hushed backroom deals.

As he spun his colorful narratives, I found myself increasingly drawn in by his storytelling, my homework temporarily forgotten. His voice wove a tapestry of the past so tangible that I felt as though I could almost touch it.

"There was this feeling in the air," he tried to explain with a far-off look in his eyes. "A desperation...a recklessness. It was as if everyone knew they were dancing on the edge of a cliff - but they were too caught up in their own enjoyment to care."

Then he shifted gears and tales of extravagance turned grimmer as he began narrating about the violent underbelly of the age - amoral gangsters with Tommy guns ruling cityscapes through fear and intimidation, corruption permeating every layer of society.

His violent accounts of the past made my blood run cold reminding me exactly who – or rather 'what' – Klaus really was - an ancient supernatural creature capable of unspeakable horrors, who had lived through centuries of human history, who had seen - no, done - the very worst humanity had to offer.

Yet, for all that he was and all that I knew him to be, in that moment, as he sat back in that old wooden chair recounting a bygone era with an almost nostalgic air about him – Klaus seemed startlingly human.

Hours passed and the moon climbed higher in the sky. The cold crept into my bones, stiffening my fingers against the keyboard. But I had too many questions and Klaus seemed more than willing to answer them.

A sense of camaraderie began to settle between us, one that made me forget for a few minutes about the inconceivable dangers associated with his kind. The night felt less threatening with Klaus’ presence - his tales from the past bridging the divide as we sat together under the chilling autumn wind sharing stories – his so supernaturally old and mine so humanly young.

As the night began to fade, a tinge of sadness crept into my heart, knowing that this evening was coming to an end. The weight of reality pressed down on me as I faced Klaus. His striking eyes, glowing like liquid gold in the dim light, were fixated on me once again. His eyes held a vast depth of knowledge, and for a moment, I was entranced by their mysteries.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?" he asked, finishing the last sip of his scotch.

My eyes still locked onto his and I shook my head slowly, a soft smile playing on my lips. More than anything, I wanted to indulge in this moment just a bit longer.

"No," I replied, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of my laptop. "That...that's enough for now."

He chuckled softly, draining the last remnants of the amber liquid from his glass and placing it softly on the porch floor. Rising up from the chair, he stretched subtly, the muscles rippling under his attire creating a muscular silhouette against the glow of the approaching dawn.

"Very well then," he said, stepping towards me. He extended his hand to help me up from the cold wooden floor. As I reached out to accept it, a spark seemed to dart between us, potent and electrifying. I recoiled my hand before grabbing his realizing that he could pull me out from the protective barrier. I saw him frown for a moment but he recovered quickly as if it didn’t bother him.

“I should leave now, little creature,” he says almost endearingly.

"Wait." I scrambled to get him to stay in some way a little longer. "What about the message for Elena?"

"Ah yes." He paused at the edge of the porch steps. "Don’t worry your pretty mind about Elena’s business.”

"You're not going to explain what you meant about the item she's searching for?"

"Some discoveries are best made firsthand." He turned back, shadows playing across his features. "Besides, I've given you plenty to work with - both for your paper and for Elena."

My fingers clutched the laptop tighter. "Why help me at all?"

"Perhaps I enjoy nurturing young minds." His voice carried back through the darkness. "Or perhaps I simply appreciate anyone willing to look beyond the surface of history's official narrative."

My lips parted, ready to speak, but before I could even form a word, Klaus had vanished into thin air without uttering a simple 'goodbye'. The absurdity of the situation made me laugh, despite everything that had just transpired. I chuckled softly under my breath as I stood alone staring out at the vacant street from my front door. 

I remained motionless for a while, hearing the cicadas pick up their song again, questioning whether the strange meeting had been real.

His empty scotch glass remained on the porch, catching moonlight like a diamond in the rough. I stared at it, mind racing through every detail of our conversation. Klaus's words about speakeasies, the hidden rooms, the secrets, crimes - they painted a vivid picture of the 1920s . But something nagged at me.

I pulled my phone out and opened my messages to Elena.

"Klaus was here. Said he found 'the item' you were looking for claims it's not what you think. Warning you about buried treasures?" My thumb hit over the send button.

The response came seconds later: "WHAT? Are you okay? Stay inside!"

"I'm fine. He couldn't cross the threshold." I glanced at the empty chair. "Elena, what's this item he mentioned?"

"Don't worry about that. We're turning around and heading back home now."

"It's late, I'm safe. He's gone." I looked at my laptop proud of the notes I'd taken. I set it aside on a table by the front door.

Elena's response buzzed through. "Be safe. We'll talk in a little bit. Lock everything."

"I will. Don't worry so much." I picked up the blanket ready to close the door. 

But the empty scotch glass still sat on the porch I couldn't resist the urge to clean up.

"I really should bring that inside," I thought to myself, stepping over the threshold to grab it.

My fingers had barely closed around the glass when the air shifted. A rush of movement slammed me back against the house wall, knocking the breath from my lungs. Klaus's hands pressed on either side of my head, caging me in.

"Careful, love." His breath ghosted across my cheek. "Crossing thresholds can be dangerous business."

My heart thundered against my ribs. "You were waiting."

"Watching." His eyes traced my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "To see if temptation would overpower your better judgment once more."

"I just wanted the glass-" My voice sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Fascinating." His thumb traced along my jawline, the touch feather-light yet electric. "Your heart's racing, but you're not trying to run."

I pressed my palms flat against the wall behind me, desperate for something solid to ground me. "Maybe I know it wouldn't make a difference."

"Oh, it would make all the difference." Klaus's other hand slid down to rest at the curve of my neck, his fingers cool against my pulse point. "The chase always adds such... excitement."

"Is that what this is to you? A game?"

"Life's a game, love. The trick is knowing which pieces to move." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, and my breath caught. "And when to take risks."

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the sharp scent of autumn leaves. Klaus's body blocked most of the porch light now, casting us both in shadow.

He spoke softly, his accent flowing over the words like smooth silk.

"What fascinates you more - the monster or the man?"

"I-" The word stuck in my throat as his fingers traced patterns on my skin. "Both. Neither. I don't know."

"Now that's honesty." He shifted closer, until barely a breath separated us. "Most humans choose one or the other. They either crave the darkness or desperately seek the light." His nose skimmed along my cheek. "But you... you see both, don't you? The artist and the killer. The teacher and the terror."

One of my hands found their way to his chest, but I couldn't tell if I meant to push him away or pull him closer. The fabric of his jacket was soft under my fingertips, hiding the immortal strength beneath.

My head was spinning, my thoughts scattered as Klaus's proximity overwhelmed me. I wanted to push him away, to run inside and lock the door behind me. But at the same time, I couldn't deny that a part of me was drawn to him, intrigued by his words and his touch.

"You shouldn't be here," I managed to say, my voice trembling.

Klaus's lips curved into a predatory smile. "But I am."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Why? Why do you keep coming back?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Because you intrigue me."

I shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on my skin. "What do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" He pulled back slightly, studying my face with those piercing blue eyes. "I want to show you what real passion is, love. To open your eyes to a world beyond your mundane existence."

I couldn't deny the spark of curiosity that flickered within me at his words. But I refused to give in so easily.

"I know what passion is," I said stubbornly.

"Do you? Has anyone ever made your heart race like this?" Klaus's hand trailed down my neck and over my chest before resting on my waist.

I swallowed hard as he leaned in again, our faces so close that our noses were almost touching.

"I can make you feel things you've never felt before," he whispered against my lips.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn't let myself succumb to him just yet.

"Who says I want that?" I challenged, trying not to let his nearness cloud my judgment.

"You do." His voice was low and confident. "You crave excitement and danger just as much as you fear it."

I wanted to deny it, but deep down I knew he was right. There was a part of me that longed for something more, something beyond the endless cycle of work, eat, and sleep.

"I'm not like you," I insisted, searching his eyes for some grain of understanding. Yet all I saw were galaxies of blue teasing me with unparalleled enigma.

His laughter echoed through the night, as soft and alluring as forbidden velvet. "Oh darling, nobody said you had to be." The fingers at my waist tightened slightly, pulling me inescapably closer. "All you need to be is... open."

"Open to what?" I whispered, my voice quivering, my heart hammered wildly against my chest.

His lips crashed into mine, fierce and demanding, with a passion that spoke of centuries of longing. The glass slipped from my trembling fingers, shattering on the wooden planks beneath us. My hands found his jacket lapels, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, my fingers curling into the expensive fabric. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth moved against mine with desperate intensity, every touch igniting fire beneath my skin.

My heart thundered against my ribs, matching the fierce rhythm of his immortal strength pressing against me. I could feel centuries of loneliness and desire in the way he held me, his touch alternating between gentle reverence and possessive need. The wooden porch railing pressed into my back, grounding me in this moment that felt suspended between reality and dream.

His hand slid down my spine, leaving trails of fire in its wake, each touch a dangerous promise that made me shiver. I arched into him, gasping as his teeth grazed my lower lip, the gesture both tender and predatory. The rough wood siding pressed against my back, splinters catching at my sweater, a stark reminder of reality that did nothing to break the spell of his presence.

"Such sweet surrender," Klaus breathed against my mouth, his accent thicker with desire. His stubble scraped my skin as he traced kisses along my jaw, each one deliberate and claiming. "And here I thought you were the cautious one, love."

My fingers clutched his shoulders, seeking anchor in a storm of sensation, feeling the immortal strength beneath his expensive jacket. "I am cautious."

"Evidently not." His laugh vibrated against my throat, dark and rich like aged whiskey. "Though I must admit, your recklessness is... intoxicating."

The word snapped something in my brain, cutting through the haze of desire like a knife. Intoxicating. Dangerous. Deadly. Every warning Elena had ever given me about Klaus crashed back like a tidal wave - stories of his cruelty, his manipulation, the trail of broken bodies he'd left across centuries.

"Wait." I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling his heart beat slow and steady beneath my hands. "Stop."

To my surprise, he did. Klaus pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark with hunger that wasn't entirely vampiric, predatory desire written in every line of his immortal face. "Having second thoughts?"

"I'm having all the thoughts." My voice shook, betraying the chaos in my mind. "Every single one I should have had before I stepped outside this threshold. Every warning bell that should have rung hours ago."

"And yet here you are." His thumb traced circles on my hip, each movement sending shivers down my spine. "Making choices that would terrify your friends. Defying every careful warning they've whispered behind closed doors."

"They'd be right to be terrified." I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of my own recklessness. "You're..."

"A monster?" His smile held no warmth, just centuries of dark promises. "We've established that love. Multiple times tonight. Or have you forgotten our earlier conversations?"

"No, you're..." I struggled to form coherent thoughts with him still pressed against me, his presence overwhelming every sense. The scent of aged whiskey and leather clouded my mind, making it impossible to think straight.

"You're Klaus. You don't do this - whatever this is. You have schemes and plans and..." I drew in a shaky breath, acutely aware of how his touch seemed to burn through the thin fabric of my shirt. "You don't get distracted like this. You're always ten steps ahead of everyone else."

"Perhaps this is part of a scheme." His fingers skimmed up my side, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The predatory gleam in his eyes made my heart stutter. "Or perhaps you've simply caught my interest. A thousand years on this earth, and still you manage to surprise me."

"That might be worse." My voice came out barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of what those words could mean. The thought of being truly interesting to Klaus Mikaelson was more terrifying than any calculated plot.

His laugh was genuine this time. "Smart girl." He stepped back, leaving me cold in the autumn air. "Though not quite smart enough to stay inside, it seems."

I wrapped my arms around myself, looking down at the shattered glass as I shifted uncomfortably on the porch. "You orchestrated this whole thing." The realization settled like lead in my stomach.

"The history lesson? Yes. The kiss?" His eyes glinted dangerously in the porch light pleased. "That was all you, love. Crossing thresholds, chasing after crystal glasses... Such impulsive decisions."

"You could have just taken the glass with you when you left." Even to my own ears, the argument sounded weak, defensive.

"And miss this delightful demonstration of poor judgment?" Klaus brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a moment too long against my cheek. "Where would be the fun in that?"

My phone buzzed insistently in my pocket - probably Elena again, wondering why I wasn't responding. Klaus's eyes flickered down to the sound, a calculating expression crossing his features.

"You should answer that. Your friends are quite protective." He took another step back. "Though I doubt they'd approve of tonight's... extracurricular activities."

"Don't." Heat flooded my cheeks as my hand instinctively touched my still-tingling lips. "This was a mistake."

"Was it?" He crouched down, picking up a large shard of broken crystal, his movements deliberately slow and graceful. "Seems more like an education to me. History, chemistry..." The glass caught moonlight as he turned it between his fingers, creating dancing patterns on the porch walls. "A practical lesson in crossing lines."

My phone buzzed again, the vibration seeming to echo in the tense silence between us. Klaus straightened back up to his full height.

"Your friends are getting impatient." Klaus stepped closer, his boots crunching over broken glass. "Though I must say, their timing leaves much to be desired."

I backed up against the door, heart pounding. "I should go inside."

"Should you?" His fingers traced the invisible barrier at the threshold. "We both know that's not what you want."

"What I want isn't always what's best for me."

"Now that's where you're wrong, love." Klaus's eyes locked with mine, intense and magnetic. His gaze held centuries of dark promises, sending shivers down my spine. "Sometimes the most dangerous choices yield the sweetest rewards. Why deny yourself?"

"Because I actually want to stay alive?" My wavering voice revealed my hesitation.

"No." His smile turned predatory, revealing just a hint of fang. "You're curious. Drawn to the darkness, even as you pretend to fear it." He gestured at the door behind me, his rings catching the porch light. "A couple of words, (y/n). That's all it would take. Invite me in."

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I gripped the door knob. "So you can what? Add me to your list of conquests?"

"So we can explore this... chemistry between us." His accent wrapped around the words like silk, each syllable a caress. "Don't pretend you haven't felt it building all evening. The way your heart races when I'm near, how your breath catches at my touch." His words hit too close to home, making my pulse stutter traitorously.

"Klaus..." The name came out as barely more than a whisper.

"Say yes." His hand hovered near my face, not quite touching, but I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "Give in to what we both want."

My phone buzzed a third time, insistent and grounding. The familiar vibration cut through the spell he was weaving around me. I closed my eyes, fighting against the pull of his presence. "I can't."

"Can't?" His voice carried an edge of danger. "Or won't?"

"Both." I gripped the door frame harder, using the rough wood to anchor myself. "My friends trust me. I won't betray that."

"Loyalty." Klaus spat the word like poison. "Such a human weakness." His fingers traced the invisible barrier again, testing its limits. "And yet, it's precisely that quality which makes you..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Fascinating."

"I'm not fascinating." The words came out sharper than intended. "I'm just trying to survive in a world that keeps getting more complicated by the day."

"You underestimate yourself." His hand dropped to his side. "Most humans would have slammed the door in my face hours ago. But you..." His eyes raked over me, intense and calculating. "You stayed. Listened. Learned."

"Maybe I just needed help with my history paper."

"We both know that's not true." Klaus stepped back, his boots crunching over broken glass. "You're drawn to power, to knowledge. To danger." He smiled, all predator. "To me."

My phone buzzed again, the sound almost angry now. Klaus's eyes flickered to my pocket.

"Answer it." He gestured dismissively. "Before they send a search party."

"They might anyway." I pulled the phone out with trembling fingers. "Elena's not exactly the trusting type these days."

"Can you blame her?" Klaus's eyes glinted with dark amusement. "After everything that's happened in this town, trust becomes quite the precious commodity."

The screen lit up my face as I checked the messages. Four texts from Elena, each more worried than the last.

"Tell me something." I looked up from the phone. "Was any of this real? The history lessons, the stories?"

"Every word." Klaus picked up another shard of glass, turning it in the moonlight. "Though I admit, my motivations weren't entirely... academic."

"You could have just asked me out like a normal person."

His laugh echoed across the porch. "Normal? Love, I haven't been normal for a thousand years." He kicked the glass shards. "Besides, where's the intrigue in that?"

My phone buzzed again. Elena's name flashed across the screen, this time with a call.

"You should answer that." Klaus nodded toward the phone. "Your friend's persistence is admirable, if somewhat inconvenient."

I swiped to accept the call, keeping my eyes on Klaus. "Elena?"

"(y/n)! Thank god. Are you okay? Why weren't you answering?"

Klaus's smirk widened at Elena's panicked tone. He mouthed 'tell her' with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

"I'm fine." I turned away from his taunting expression. "Just got caught up in my history paper. Lost track of time."

"You're sure everything's alright?"

"Perfectly fine." The lie tasted bitter on my still-tingling lips. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

Klaus's low chuckle carried across the porch as I ended the call. "Such a convincing liar. I'm almost impressed."

"Don't." I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "This doesn't change anything."

"No?" He crossed the distance between us in two fluid steps. "Then why lie to your dear friend Elena? Why not tell her I'm still here?"

My back pressed against the door frame as he leaned in, his breath ghosting across my cheek. The scent of whiskey and leather overwhelmed my senses.

"Because she'd try to save me." The words came out before I could stop them.

"And you don't want to be saved." His fingers traced the curve of my jaw. "Say it, love. Invite me in."His words hung in the air between us, heavy with promise and danger.

His touch left fire in its wake, each caress stoking the flames higher. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every brush of his fingers sending sparks through my nervous system. The rough wood of the house wall dug into my back, the only anchor keeping me from drowning in sensation.

"Please..." The word escaped before I could stop it, breathy and desperate.

"Please what?" His tone is dangerous and seductive. His thumb traced my bottom lip, pressing lightly. "Be specific, love."

Each feather light touch from his hand felt like a jolt of electricity, sending shivers down my spine and causing my muscles to tense in anticipation.

Each circle he traced made me arch closer, seeking more contact.

"I..." The words tangled in my throat as his lips found that spot behind my ear that made my knees weak. "God, Klaus..."

"Not quite the invitation I'm looking for." His teeth grazed my skin, drawing a gasp from my lips. "Try again."

The rational part of my brain screamed warnings, but it was drowning in a sea of want. His hands, his mouth, his voice - everything about him demanded surrender. And I wanted to give in, wanted it with an intensity that frightened me.

"Come..." My voice shook as his fingers tangled in my hair.

He chuckled deeply, his hot breath rolling down my neck. "Come what, love?" His voice was a soft purr, dangerously coercive. He was playing with me and we both knew it.

"Come...in." I finally managed, the words barely making their way past the lump in my throat. His lips drew into a triumphant smirk as he pulled back, meeting my gaze with an intense hunger in his eyes.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Before I could gather my thoughts, he swept me into his arms, effortlessly crossing the threshold of my front door. A thrilling rush surged through me, igniting my senses and replacing any trace of fear with a tantalizing excitement that I couldn't resist

“You are mine now,” he growled, slamming the door with a loud thud that reverberated through the house. The heavy weight of finality hung in the air, a declaration that left no room for argument or negotiation. Everything had changed with those words, and the once familiar surroundings now felt foreign and dangerous.

As his words settled in, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding wash over me. This was my new reality, and there was no going back to how things used to be.

[directdogman]

A little nugget of Crown + Milt characterization:

I had a long talk the other night (I was putting off sending an important email. I'm very responsible) and revealed a bit about Crown + Milt's characters. It's a lil long, but figured I should put a slightly touched up version of it here for everyone to see:

Crown was born disabled and was rejected VERY harshly when he tried to join the army, even after building his own set of mechanical legs. He was used to those in power mistreating him. As such, he never felt like he really belonged in power deep down because it was an environment he was unfamiliar with, surrounded by people who reminded him of those he'd always despised.

That's how he felt around 'real' politicians. He felt like he was in a joke + was waiting for the punchline. He felt he HAD to fight to keep what he had because those in power didn't WANT him there. He didn't belong. Here, there or anywhere. A freak only around by happenstance. He didn't just disagree with the motives/actions of others in power, he despised them for what they were. People who would never understand where he came from, what he had to overcome to get there and because of all that: what was at stake if his plans failed - that a world would never exist where he could've lived a full and happy life if he'd never had the opportunity to leave his garage.

He looked at the public as well-meaning, but somewhat dim. People who only knew enough to know what affected them personally. But he didn't hold it against them. They were products of their environment, of the systems that he was trying to undo. What he wanted was a mass revolution. A highly educated, dedicated and at times aggressive population that would recognize when their rights were being trampled and do something about it. He saw himself as a wolf on the side of sheep, and he wanted to make the public more like himself, so the fight for justice would never die. Every man a protagonist!

Milt's upbringing wasn't like Crown's. He didn't suffer from disability and his true sexual orientation wasn't known, so he faced little adversity for it, outside of the odd accusatory remark, which he was able to tolerate (as taking it personally would've given him away and put him in danger.) His family were well off, unlike Crown's.

He never understood Crown's mentality, as a result. He knew they had to fight to enact change, that the powerful fight to keep things the same because they benefit from it. But, the idea of seeing those around him as different (be it other people in power or the population themselves) - Milt couldn't fully grasp that part of Crown and at times, struggled to come to terms with the fact that the partner of his revolution, that aimed to create class awareness and solidarity - saw people as different to himself.

Marla understood Crown's perspective though. Despite perhaps sharing more ethical values with Milt, growing up poor + with a disability of her own (Mingus' cane was originally hers, after all), she saw eye to eye with Crown more in this regard. She viewed those who held onto power + failed to wield it for the good of others with a deep, searing contempt, which she was felt just as intensely as he did.

Of course, Milt never had Crown's insecurity. Just different inner demons of his own from the war, which haunted him in a very different way.

Crown believed that because he was able to change his own destiny, he HAD to change the destiny of others. He couldn't waste the opportunity he had. That the stars themselves had aligned in a one of a kind freakish accident, that their journey was one way and that nobody would ever get the chance to recreate their strategy, because those in power would know what to watch for next time it was tried. Crown couldn't have it be for nothing. he couldn't let everyone down.

While Milt looked at his past with survivor's guilt. The things he had to do to survive during the war. The faces of men he'd killed haunted him in his sleep. And he never forgot that he was alive because others were not. If he made mistakes, made the world a worse place… then the deaths of those he fought alongside who didn't come back were for nothing. He'd know for sure that the voice in his head was telling the truth - that he should've taken each and every bullet that felled his comrades. If he'd been braver, done more, generations of good families would've stemmed from the men he fought with who never made it home.

Crown and Milt had so much in common and their connection was quite deep - but as much as they knew about each other, neither could fully understand this one difference in the other and it wound up being the thing that ultimately killed their relationship.

[rimurutempest]

I watched all of modern Doctor Who and these were my favorite episodes.

If you told me back in 2015 that I'd watch the entirety of modern Doctor Who, I'd probably think you're a liar. But, a cute girl wanted to watch Doctor Who with me, and how do you tell a cute girl “No?” Being that of the Superwholock trinity, Doctor Who the least upsetting of the three, I figured “Why not?” I mean, it's enjoyed by thousands and thousands of people, surely it has merit for existing, right?

And, it does! There are many great episodes that I really enjoyed (not to mention a lot of schlock I hated). I even enjoy some of the old serials and that 1996 movie is pretty fun (so very 90s). I can't claim to have seen all of Doctor Who, there is a lot of old stuff I'm probably never going to know even exists, not to mention all the spin offs and audio dramas, there's no way I can get through it all. But, I have seen the modern run, starting with Christopher Eccleston all the way to Ncuti Gatwa in Empire of Death.

Annnnd, anyone that knows me knows I love to rank and review episodic tv shows. So, with that said, here are my 15 favorite episodes of modern Doctor Who:

15 - Dalek (S01, E06)

It is probably unsurprising to any Doctor Who fan to see this episode on the list. The Eccleston era was my introduction to Doctor Who (as I'm sure it was for a lot of people) and this episode was my introduction to the famous villain, the Daleks. It's really a wild way to be introduced to the Daleks when you think about it, the Doctor and his companion Rose end up in an underground museum of alien artifacts out in Nevada and find the man that runs it has a Dalek in captivity. Upon learning of the Dalek's existence, the Doctor goes on a campaign to kill it with extreme prejudice until Rose yells at him about how he's being this horrendous person – which makes the doctor have a “Maybe I'm the baddie” moment and it resolves peacefully. Genuinely is really a good episode about moving on and realizing that we all have good and evil in us. A true standout of the early modern run of the show.

14 - The Impossible Planet & The Satan's Pit (S02, E08&E09)

There's a spectrum when it comes to Doctor Who, there are episodes that are gorgeous and smart and well thought out, then there are episodes that are just absolutely ridiculous. If Dalek explores the prejudice that can be enacted by those we see as “good,” then this duo of episodes is “what if the Christian devil was real and he was in space.” This is such an unbelievable hit of stupid bullshit, but it's delivered so very well. The first episode is loaded with mystery and adventure and unknown horror, while the second episode introduces the goofy concept in whole but still somehow grounds it enough that it still feels like a real plot with real stakes. It's the acting. The actors really sell this one to you. Space Satan is not what I expected when getting into this show but hey, it works and I like it.

13 - Blink (S03, E10)

I'm going to be honest with you, I feel like the internet really hypes up the Weeping Angels to a point that when you finally encounter them you're like, “Oh that's all?” Every episode of Doctor Who with the Weeping Angels feels underwhelming, silly, dumb, boring, with one exception: the original. I will not try to convince you that Blink lives up to the hype that the fandom has built for it, but if you can watch it without the Superwholock kind of bullshit in your head, what you'll find is actually a pretty good story. One of the best of the show. If the angels existed for this one episode and nothing else, they may have stood as the best antagonist of the show, but they got overused. I'm not going to explain the episode, I'll end up overhyping it more, just watch it.

12 - A Town Called Mercy (S07, E03)

I never see anyone really talk about this episode and it makes me wonder if maybe I'm alone in thinking it's great, which if so, oh well. I like westerns. The long and short of this is the Doctor and his companions, Amy and Rory, arrive in the old west to find a town with electricity too early and an alien cyborg gunslinger hanging outside of town hunting the town physician who turns out to be an alien that committed some horrific space crimes. The episode feels like a fun, loving homage to the western genre while once again exploring those aforementioned qualities of good people can be bad and vice versa. It's a fantastic little romp for the cast and these are the kinds of episodes that made the show fun to watch.

11 - Midnight (S04, E10)

Does this count as a bottle episode? The one thing I have to give the cast of Doctor Who is that when they decide it's time to really act, they act very, very well. This episode is completely carried by the acting of David Tennant and his supporting cast. In this episode, the Doctor's companion Donna sits one out while the Doctor takes a shuttle bus to go see a waterfall, until some unknown alien starts taking over people's bodies. This is a very, very well done episode that shows that you don't need elaborate set dressing or endless action to make good television, you just need good actors.

10 - The Devil's Chord (S14, E02)

I realize this might be controversial to say, but Ncuti Gatwa is my favorite actor to portray the Doctor. He's a fantastic actor and the energy he brings the role is so different and wonderful. When it comes to media, people typically don't like to hear you praise the modern bits over the older stuff, but this most recent run of Doctor Who with Gatwa is consistently more interesting and enjoyable than any other season of Doctor Who (that's probably Davies doing).

That all said, The Devil's Chord is a wild episode. I previously said that Doctor Who has a spectrum, from really great story telling to really goofy. If Midnight is the great story telling, then The Devil's Chord is the goofy. In this episode the Doctor and Ruby must face off against Maestro, the God of Music, who wishes to take all music from the world. The energy of this episode is wild, with Ncuti Gatwa's take on the Doctor going up against the insanely wild trickster character Maestro, who is portrayed by the trans actor Jinkx Monsoon. If you've fallen off of late Doctor Who, or you are completely new to it, please give this new season a watch (and don't let the Beatles jump scare at the beginning stop you, I swear there's no Beatles music!).

09 - The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances (S01, E09&E10)

If you're starting your Doctor Who watch at the beginning of the modern series, this will probably be the first episode that strikes a real chord with you (well, other than Dalek that is). This was the show's first real attempt at telling a horror story, one that is sort of zombie adjacent. This bizarre World War Two story with a child in a gas mask morphing people's bodies and existences into more versions of himself is one of the more original stories in the entire Doctor Who series, no one but Eccleston and Billie Piper could have sold this so well. Not to mention the introduction of Jack Harkness! (We'll uh...we'll ignore the actors conduct for this...)

08 - Planet of the Ood (S04, E03)

This is not the first time we meet the Ood, they were in the aforementioned Impossible Planet episodes, however this is when the Doctor finally does what he should have from the very start. The Ood are essentially a slave race, and in Planet of the Ood, they finally start to act out and revolt. The Doctor, as unpolitical as he has always been according to some people, decides “Yeah! Slaves are wrong!” and starts working with Ood Sigma (who becomes a recurring character kind of) in freeing the Ood. This episode also has one of the sickest, most awesome, kinda horrific effects in all of Doctor Who. Above all else, this episode is just very beautifully shot and well made. One of the highlights of the entire series.

07 - The Day of the Doctor (50th Anniversary Special)

Exploring the Doctor's mind during the Time War is such a cool concept. It's a thing the Doctor keeps referring to as this horrific, life changing thing for him, and getting even a glimpse into it is guaranteed an amazing time. Featuring both David Tennant and Matt Smith, while bringing on John Hurt of all people because Eccleston wouldn't reprise his role, the acting talent in this special is incredible and genuinely so wonderful to watch. At the end of the day, it's a really, really good Doctor Who romp and deserves any praise it gets.

06 - The Waters of Mars (2009 Autumn Special)

Pic from the BBC. Theirs looks better than anything I could get.

Hey look! It's the Hugo award winning special! And I only put it at number six!

Everything about this special is so fucking cool. The set designs, the costumes, the fucking monster itself, everything in this is so cool. You know how people always joke about horror needing to be wet? Well this is wet horror. David Tennant puts in so much effort here, struggling with what he wants to and what he has to do, the Doctor is really pushed to some stressful limits here that has such a fantastic end to it. Even if you disagree with where I placed it on this list, there is no doubt that The Waters of Mars is among the best stories Doctor Who has ever put out.

05 - The Impossible Astronaut / Day of the Moon (S06, E01&E02)

This is one that's probably going to get some pushback. I am an X-Files fan, it's my favorite show, love it when it's great and I love it when it's trashy. This two part season opening is the most X-files like the show ever gets, and I am so into it. The opening mystery of the episode sets up a really cool overarching concept for the season (don't ask if it's resolved well, please don't ask that) while introducing us to one of the coolest enemies Doctor Who ever made (please don't ask if they stay that way, please don't ask that). Everything about this is so fun and interesting and I hope others come out of it feeling the same way.

04 - Voyage of the Damned (2007 Christmas Special)

Pic from IMDB.

DOCTOR WHO TITANIC IS VERY GOOD!! Sorry for yelling. For a long while this sat as my absolute favorite episode of Doctor Who. Journeying alone on a rare occasion, the Doctor finds himself spending Christmas aboard the space Titanic (I am not kidding, they named it the Titanic!) and as the name of the ship would imply, tragedy strikes. This story is really wonderful, we get to see the Doctor try his hardest to save people and show love and kindness to so many people, not to mention having a group of characters instead of one companion to explore. I especially love the Van Hoff couple, who are two fat and poor people who won tickets to come aboard what is a wealthy cruise. Everyone around them is rather classist and fatphobic to them, but of all they characters in the special, they exhibit real happiness and love and their devotion to one another is genuinely so wonderful.

As I said, this one stood as my favorite episode for a long time. And, you don't really need to see any previous episodes to watch it, so please go watch it. It's a fun time.

03 - The Giggle (60th Anniversary Special)

I don't know what the wider fandom's thoughts on the 60th Anniversary Specials are, so I don't know if this is a controversial take or not. But, The Giggle highlights everything that is great about Doctor Who. It tips its scales back into the goofy part of the spectrum, but that goofiness is ultimately what makes this such a fun and interesting special. When thinking of actors like Neil Patrick Harris, who are so big and popular and well known celebrities, you forget that the popularity came from the fact they're good at their craft, and if The Giggle did anything for me, it was reminding me that yes, Neil Patrick Harris is an outstanding actor. And, getting put with a returning David Tennant and Catherine Tate really just solidified this special as some of the best acting the series has to offer.

The scene where the Toymaker forces the Doctor and Donna to watch a puppet show about the fates of the Doctor's companions is one of the best meta commentaries the show ever did about itself. The introduction of Ncuti Gatwa is pulled off in a fantastic way. And, the ending is so heartwarming that it makes makes me happy they brought Tennant's Doctor and Donna back.

02 - Heaven Sent (S09, E11)

I previously said that Ncuti Gatwa stands as my favorite Doctor. But, before the Gatwa episodes were out, my favorite was Peter Capaldi. Though Capaldi was given some of the worst scripts of the series (Jodie Whittaker probably got the worst of the worst), he brought such a different interpretation to the Doctor. David Tennant and Matt Smith's Doctors, despite their differences, were largely the same characters. Capaldi's had more of that Eccleston-esque attitude and charm, while bringing this gravitas that makes the silly moments feel real emotionally.

Which brings me to Heaven Sent, which might be the pinnacle of acting in the series. When people think of the best Doctor Who episodes, they probably expect big action and lots of adventure, but to me, the most interesting parts of Doctor Who are when we explore the Doctor as a character. What makes him tick, what makes him who he is, why is he here doing this – exploration of the Doctor and his motives is spectacular, especially when done right. Heaven Sent follows the Capaldi Doctor, after the death of his companion, imprisoned in a castle where he must reveal all his secrets. The torture and sorrow that Capaldi is able to show on his face is both horrifying and spectacular, really showing that he is an outstanding actor. There is no other piece of television like Heaven Sent.

01 - Vincent and the Doctor (S05, E10)

I don't think this is a surprise to anyone. I'm sure everyone has seen the gifs go around of the Doctor taking Vincent van Gogh to the future to see how his work is revered and loved and how moving that scene is. What I don't think most people know is how after that scene, after Vincent has been put back in his own time, the museum doesn't change. There are no new paintings. Amy, the Doctor's companion, then must learn that love and praise alone do not cure mental illness.

This episode has a haze of melancholy. The Doctor may change history plenty of times, but he doesn't often change real events. So, from the very beginning, you know van Gogh's fate, and you know it won't be changed. I actually liked this episode' portrayal of mental illness, it really is something that affects our lives, and makes it hard (if not impossible) to fit into society. How people with mental illness are often outcast, harassed, and treated like subhumans. But, this episode also shows happiness, hope, and love. And, that people do love you, no matter what you may think.

And, I think that makes it the best episode of modern Doctor Who.

Tumblr has decided that adding my full episode rankings would make this post too long. So, I will be adding them in a second reblog (check notes if you want to see!)

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Just In Time - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Warnings: None other than this is a little angsty. Word Count: 1313 Prompt #34: I missed you kisses a/n: Frankie wouldn't leave me alone again. Here's this! Enjoy!!

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It started when you were gifted a prayer candle, your favorite actor's face plastered on the side. Your friend had meant it as a joke, but then things started happening.

It began small, all things considered. The day after you lit it for the first time, you found a twenty dollar bill swirling across the wet pavement of the parking lot at the grocery store. After the second, someone paid for your coffee before you got to the window, a favor you promptly passed onto the next person, but still, you could feel the shift in the air.

It was silly, really. Just a superstition everyone told you, but you kept lighting it anyway, hoping that it did really summon good news. After all, the washer, which had been on the fritz for weeks and you were certain you'd have to replace soon, suddenly started working again after the first week. The candle burned lower, lit every evening as some kind of ritual, and the good fortune extended outward when your favorite actor was cast in a major franchise, a win you celebrated as though it were your own. And then, just before it burned to the base, you met Frankie.

Frankie, who you met while shopping for a replacement candle and who never once batted an eye at the number of wicks and lighters you went through in the months that followed. Who quickly gifted you a new candle identical to the first, the sticker creased a bit on one side. It gives it character, you'd told him when he offered to replace it, and you'd lit it all the same. The man who bought you an electric rechargeable lighter he'd seen on Instagram because he figured it might be a little better for the environment. Who took you to a local candle making class to refill the original vase to the brim so you could burn it all over again.

It was Frankie who lit the candle before he left, his eyes somber as he crossed the room to your waiting arms, clinging to him until the second Santiago was laying on the horn in the driveway. The mission was only supposed to last a few days, each of which you spent carefully igniting the wick, certain that it would bring him home to you safe and sound.

Only as the candle burned lower, so did your hope.

Panic had begun to set in around the sixth day, when the text chain with his name at the top suddenly showed more blue than grey, no indication that he'd even read them. And it wasn't as though you could call someone, because you knew the nature of their visit to Columbia. You knew the stakes, you knew why the police couldn't be involved. Frankie had made it very clear when you'd first started dating that he had some baggage, and this was just part of the load that he struggled to carry. But his loyalty to his friends had overwhelmed him and off he went with a reassurance that he'd be home before the flame went out.

Day by day, you watched it burn down. You knew that it was getting low, more content to watch it evaporate to nothing than not light it at all. After nearly ten days of anguish, you had to finally admit to yourself that something bad had happened. That the power of the candle had finally been broken in the worst way imaginable. That the flame that had brought him to you had taken him just as quickly. But still, you kept lighting it anyway.

Until it went out entirely.

The living room became a blanket of black when the tiny flicker diminished, your eyes set on where the small bit of light had existed until long after the smoke dissipated. A part of you willed yourself to admit that maybe everything had been a ruse. That perhaps Frankie and your existence with him had just been a dream you hadn't woken up from. That the candle finishing its life was some kind of sign that it was time to open your eyes and return to reality. But somewhere, deep down, the flicker of home continued to burn, and suddenly you were frantically searching for another candle to light.

When you came up short, finding only empty glass in the cabinet, you raced to the store. Thunder shook you to your core as you hurried inside and then back out to the truck, lightning flashing overhead in a brilliant display. The rain pounded on the windshield, fogging your vision as you carefully drove the familiar streets back to the home you shared with Frankie. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel until you were safely parked back in the driveway, the keys pulled from the ignition before you leaned your head back against the headrest of the driver's seat.

You glanced over the bench at the candle, the top just peeking out from the plastic shopping bag. This one was plain, no actor's face or creased sticker on the side. Just a plain, white candle in a glass vase. If you were being honest, you were mostly just thankful that it was unscented because anything else would compete with the smell of Frankie that lingered in his truck, the one you'd been clinging to. The one you allowed yourself to breathe in for an extra moment.

With a heavy sigh, you grabbed the handles of the bag and braced yourself to run through the downpour to the front porch, wishing you'd grabbed your raincoat instead of simply rushing out of the house in one of his flannels. Drenched by the time you made it under the awning, you quickly unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you and shrouding yourself in darkness once more.

Except, you weren't in complete darkness.

Your gaze lands immediately on the candle, a fresh one sitting next to the original with a different picture of your favorite actor on the side. You step closer, noting that the wax is barely pooling, the candle recently lit, and you're thankful for the rug you'd convinced Frankie to put in the living room because it stops the candle in your bag from shattering when you race into his arms.

He's kissing you before you can fully process what's happening, his lips devouring yours before you can even scan his skin for marks, although the nasty cut on his cheek will haunt you in the later hours, when he tells you what really happened in South America through a fresh set of tears he held in until he was in your arms. He's gripping you the same way you'd held him before he left, completely and entirely, as his lips trail along your cheekbones and your jaw, kissing every inch of your face as though he thought he'd never see it again.

And to be fair, he hadn't.

"You got a new candle," you say weakly, voice betrayed by the onset of tears in your eyes, your forehead still in place against his. When Frankie kisses you again, it's deeper, your back arching slightly with the force of him against your body. You feel it, the way he's telling you just how much he missed you and how hard he fought to return to your waiting arms.

"I told you it would bring me back to you," he responds softly, his hands cupping your cheeks as he gently kisses your hairline before pulling you against him, cradling you in his embrace. "But since it took me a bit longer to get back home, I figured it might be running low."

You smile against his chest, some kind of relieved laughter vibrating through you both as he wraps his arms around you again, rocking you softly. "Yeah, it was. You got here just in time."

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[grlsbstshot]

IPANEMA: SNEAK PEEK

Pairing (Original Characters): 

Charles Bell (Aaron Pierre) x Lelita de Oliveira (Iza)

Story Synopsis: 

The year is 1969. Charles Bell, a jaded photojournalist, arrives in Brazil to cover the story of Carnival -- hoping to escape the emotional toll of his work. At a lively Rio nightclub, he meets Lelita de Oliveira, a friendly spirit that captivates him instantly. Though their chemistry is instant, Lelita's life is far from easy. Her father -- a charismatic but corrupt nightclub owner -- controls her every move, constantly exploiting her talents to pay off his debts. As Charles and Lelita's connection intensifies, they realize they share a passionate but obviously forbidden attraction. As the stakes rise, both must confront their fears of love and commitment, risking everything for happiness in a city that pulses with life...and danger.

Word Count: 1.3k

Notes: The author does not know Portuguese fluently (or what Rio looked, felt, or sounded like in 1969) so any mistakes seen within the story are not meant maliciously. Please forgive any errors and don't hesitate to message me. They will be fixed or removed!

They were alone. They didn't have to sit in the lonely corner for two but Charles and Lita did just that. It was the first time they'd been alone since they met. It was fate that it just happened to be in the same place they met. The small table between them was meant to keep distance but they both leaned over it, elbows pressed to wood eagerly. A few partially empty glasses between them. . The street outside was alive with the city's noise, but inside -- it was only them. The low hum of conversation. They had spent the past hour trying to communicate more—trading words and phrases, stumbling over vowels and syllables, laughing at their mistakes.

It was light. Easy. Being in Brazil excited him in ways that he never thought they would. The frustrations of his work melted away in the warmth of Lelita's smile. The past few weeks, they had played cat and mouse games -- refusing to acknowledge the attraction between them. His devotion to his work and her loyalty to her father and Paola were strong. And yet they still seemed to find themselves together. She promised to tighten up his Portuguese and he promised to improve her English. Every now and then, when he pronounced something wrong, she would giggle. Her eyes danced with amusement. It was infectious, made him feel like he could do anything—except stop wanting her.

“Wrong. It wrong.” Lelita said, leaning in closer with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Feliz. No 'fleece.'"

He frowned, repeating the word as he tried to imitate her accent. "Feliz…?"

"Feliz," she corrected softly, her voice breathy as she drew the word out. Her lips parted slightly when she spoke and Charles couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lingered on his mouth. It made him ache for something he couldn’t name -- shouldn't name -- something just out of reach. He attempted the word again, getting it right. Or as right as he was going to get it with a brusque New York accent.

She smiled, clearly pleased with his attempt. "Better." she said, "Feliz means happy."

His eyes locked with hers as he gave a nod. “I think I understand it better than I thought,” he said, his voice low. “Feliz sounds like something I want to feel.”

Lelita blinked, her breath catching for a second. Charles watched her process the comment and...there it was. Her hand rose, finger unconsciously twisting around a curly strand of hair. The air between them thickened, the words suddenly taking on more meaning. She straightened, trying to hide the flicker of something—desire, maybe?—that crossed her face.

"Americans move fast," she murmured, a small laugh escaping her lips, though it was strained now, more nervous than before. She looked away, her fingers tracing the rim of her empty cup, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I teach you, not flirt you."

Charles couldn’t help the corner of his mouth turning up into a sly grin. "Flirt with you." He corrected. "You’re teaching me with your body, not just your words." His hand snaked across the table, lifting to brush a fingertip against her palm as she continued to curl her hair around her finger.

Her breath hitched, but Lelita didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head, meeting his gaze with a quiet challenge in her eyes. "Learn from body? Okay. Try this word right." She reached for the small notepad on the table, tearing off a scrap of paper and writing a word on it quickly. The word spelled out beijo in her pretty, sprawling script. "Say it."

Charles’s lips quirked up at the corners. He had a feeling he knew what it meant, but he wasn’t about to say it until he was sure. "B-Beijo?" he said carefully, his voice deliberate. He could tell it was wrong from the way her lips quirked into a grin. Point one to her.

Lelita said the word, the letters forming in her mouth beautifully. Portuguese was a language he knew only faintly but it had always left him awe. "It...kiss. It is kiss. Now, say again."

The word uttered brought visions to mind of the way she would taste. "Beijo" he said, his voice low and the word sliding from his lips effortlessly. The word rolled off his tongue so smoothly. It felt different than anything else they’d said. The sound was intimate, foreign, charged.

Lelita’s smile faltered for just a moment. One small moment but it was enough for Charles to know that she was drowning in him the same way he was with her. "Perfect," she whispered, her voice a little too soft, a little too intimate. "Now you teach me."

Charles leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest, taking in the way she shifted slightly under his gaze. The playful tension from earlier was still there, but now it was heavier, more electric. "Alright," he said, his voice a little huskier than before. "Let’s see if you can say this in English." He wrote a word on the napkin and slid it toward her.

Lita looked at the word—touch—and hesitated for just a moment. Her lips parted, mouth attempting to form the word. She was beautiful. Doe like eyes and full lips. When she turned her gaze to him, he felt it like a caress. Charles watched as she sounded the word out, pleased when she refused to let the fact that she didn't know embarrass her. She kept going, eventually repeating the word until it flowed from her mouth. "Touch!" Lita said, pride evident in her tone. "Touch."

Charles’s pulse quickened at the way she said it. There was a subtle invitation in her tone, something that made the space between them seem even smaller. "That’s right," he said softly, his voice thick with the unspoken. "...but you have to know how to say it."

Lelita raised an brow, clearly intrigued. “How?”

He leaned in closer, his hand resting on the table between them. "You have to say it...like you mean it." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The air between them was tight, charged with something raw and unspoken. Lelita’s eyes flicked to his lips, then back up to his eyes. There was no more teasing, no more playful laughter—just the thick weight of the moment. They were close enough now that Charles could feel the heat radiating from her skin, smell the faint scent of perfume, feel the heat in the air between them.

Lelita’s breath hitched as she shifted ever so slightly closer. "And how do you say it?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost daring him to make the suggestion.

His chest tightened. He reached out slowly, brushing his fingertips against the back of her hand. it was barely a touch but was electric all the same. "Like this," he said.

Before Lelita could respond, before either of them could say another word, Charles leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that felt inevitable—like it had been building between them the entire time, from the moment they met. Her mouth was soft, tentative at first, but when she leaned into him, deepening the kiss, everything else—the noise of the café, the lesson, the barriers of language—disappeared. There was only her, only the feel of her lips against his, the taste of the rum they had both consumed on each other's tongues and the heat that flared between them.

Charles didn't know who leaned in more -- her or him but they were both clinging to one another. The little table between them may as well not have been there at all. Her lifted his hand, fingertips brushing through her hair. Soft, curly strands wrapped around his fingers and they instinctively tightened in the strands. She moaned against his mouth and Charles practically melted. This girl. This fucking girl.

They both pulled away, breathless yet renewed. There was no pretending anymore. He couldn't hide from his feelings from her. There it was. He decided on her. "Beijo" he murmured, "I think I’ll be using that one a lot."

[readychilledwine]

Till Death Do Us Part

SJM Villains Week - Day One - Origin Story

"Are people born wicked, or do they have wickedness cast upon them?" -Wicked the Musical

Summary - Beron had known love once in his life, and even that was ripped from him

Warnings- This fic has some heavy topics. A whole species of fae is hunted for their wings until extinction. While it is not done in great detail, if that will potentially trigger you, please consider skipping this.

Other warnings- reader Death, spousal abuse, domestic, and child abuse inferred, loss of a spouse, death of a mate, in summary, just not my normal happy love story. Edited and formated on my cellphone, long story, if you see errors, you definitely didn't 👀

A/n - Happy @sjmvillainweek day one. I was sent a request about Beron losing the love of his life being his villain Origin story. I bounced between doing this as a mini series or as a one shot, but landed on the one shot due to mini series that end with reader Death not being a personal favorite of mine, plus, writing reader's death after writing 3 parts of her and Beron falling in love was rough. If you all want it, though, let me know I guess? Today is very out of my box, as you all will see with my Maeve fic queued for later, so to those of you who frequently write reader/oc deaths, I truly admire you. This was hard.

🪽Peep the Wings of Prythian headcanons Here 🪽

🗡Villains Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

The stake set in the middle of the grounds was the seal on the impact of Beron's actions. 100 years, 100 happy years of keeping her safe, and now he was locked in his own room, trapped as her execution was set up. 

He should have known better, should have hid her better. Her kind was already rare and in the last 100 years, she was finally the last one. One last trophy to hunt and he had led his father right to her. 

Lifeless wings hung high on his wall, still fresh with the scent of her blood.  The luster they carried was fading, the vibrant burnt orange now a muted tone of its former glory. 

Beron put his head in his hands, the faebane chains around his wrists clanging with laughter as he did. He forced his mind back to a happier time. 

Fire Festival had you running around the small market near where the Leaf Folk lived. Mother needed flour. Father needed wine. Your sisters wanted candy. The first of October was special to you all. To your whole race. It was the start of a 31 day process where the females of your race were courted, married, and the hopes of young offspring came. .

Fire Festival was for lovers. It was for passion. It would be your first year to partake, and while you knew it took some females 3 attempts to meet their match, your wings couldn't help but flutter in hope you would meet yours this year. 

As you day dreamed, supplies in a basket, you were blind to the male watching you. An outsider that had vendors closing their doors and windows with customer's inside, mamas rushing their children into their homes.

A voice cleared behind you, pulling you from your daze, “My lady.” It was instant, that snap of the mating bond tugging and tying you two together into a cursed string. ..

The dark-haired male put his hand to his heart, blindly stepping closer to you. Dark hair sat on top of his head, styled and brushed into perfection despite the evidence he had arrived on horseback. His slender face was handsome. Sharper cheekbones, full lips, a nose reminding you of a hawk beak. His clothing was high end, hugging his body as if he was poured into the material. “Beron,” he spoke to you, ripping you from your study of his figure.

“Y/n,” you whispered back, wings moving slightly to be out of sight.

“I have no interest in those,” he motioned towards them. “Only in the rumors of elder flowers in this area.”

You blinked at him, the olive branch you were about to offer him was dangerous, “I can show you if you vow to never speak of this place.”

Beron fought against his father as he was pulled to the temple. He knew the female he was being forced to marry was nice enough, beautiful, wealthy. He was forced to stand at the altar, a knife held to his little sister's back as he did. Aurelia entered either her normal grace, her own face solemn as the fae stood and she was escorted to him by her own proud father. 

Her dress reminded him of a princess from tales of old. Far too large, puffy, and in a shade of white that did not compliment her porcelain skin and hair like fire. 

They were both silent as they took their vows and the count down to your execution began. 2 hours. 2 hours he'd be forced to spend drinking and all that did was encourage more memories of you.

The pull of the bond became too much the following October, and the letters written on oak leaves could no longer be enough for either of you.

You were taking a huge risk, using the first feast and bonfires to sneak to his hunting cabin just a few miles away from the hidden edge village you'd spent your life in.

Beron was waiting on the porch, eyes coming alive as he heard the sound of your leaf-like wings crinkling as you flew over to him. ..

He caught you quickly, arms going around your waist, pulling your head to his chest. .

The first hug of many.

The first night filled with laughter and stolen kisses that'd come with the next 99 years.

He carried your one bag, frowning at your lack of possessions.

"Is this all you have, my love?”

”All I need,” Your tone was confused. “Did you expect more?”

He had. He had expected more than just the 7 dresses he pulled out. More than the one necklace he had given you. More than one more pair of leather shoes.

Beron glanced at you, chocolate eyes slightly sad, “I'm going to give you the world.”

Beron and Aurelia watched in silence as people drank and danced. “You said you were running,” he whispered under his breath to her. “You said you were leaving to prevent this.”

Aurelia looked at him, her whiskey colored eyes narrowing, “Do you think I didn't try to get him to come grab me? Do you think I sat and did nothing despite our deal?”

He rolled his own eyes, “Careful with your tone, wife,” the word felt like ash. 

“Am I your wife? Or is she locked in the fox holes waiting to be the final show for our wedding? Who else has their marriage start with the burning of their husband's who-”

The slap that came before she could finish that sentence made the room fall into silence. Another beginning. Another drastic change. Beron knew Aurelia had sold out the location he kept you in. Her father had been the one to drag you in, bleeding and crying, dress torn. 

Beron's father motioned for the night to continue like nothing had happened, as if he was beaming with pride at his son striking his wife. 

“Just because he didn't want you after you willingly handed him your cunt, doesn't mean I didn't want y/n. I hope you enjoy both of us being as miserable as you clearly are.” 

She sat wordlessly next to him, holding her cheek. She'd been warning of the heavy hands the Vanserra males carried, but Beron had never been aggressive. He'd always been kind to her. But she knew she was you and clearly Aurelia had gotten herself into dangerous territory. 

Beron watched the clock as it ticked an hour. An hour to day dreamed about you.

The wedding of the Leaf Folk were not performed in a temple, an odd thing for Beron as he stood under the oldest apple tree in the groove. Its twisted trunk and tangled branches were almost menacing as you followed his eye. 

You took his hands, whispering in the old tongue and making the tree light up with runes and stories of lovers wed under its branches. You were the last of your kind. The village somehow found and pillaged in one night. The groove of apples around you both was struggling, dying off slowly as its caretakers became a lost memory. “What do we do now?”

"We close our eyes and feel. We will know if the land blesses our union,” you smiled as you answered, closing your eyes. Fireflies began to fill the area, a slight breeze carrying the sounds of gentle music. You both opened your eyes to the deer to the fireflies.

“What the hell,” he paused. “What is this?”

"Approval from the Mother. She has blessed and signed off on our union,” Your hand went to the new rune in the tree, eyes watering as you followed the curves and slopes. “We're married.”

Beron was forced to stand, shackled again as guards made him and Aurelia walk to where he'd be forced to watch you burn. His family and Aurelia's father too spots near them, the other High fae in attendance whispering as they also took places. Public execution in Autumn was a favorite pastime for the rich high fae. They loved watching the poor, the criminals, the low fae burn or be gifts to the trees, consumed root by root. 

His father had known that wasn't an option with you. Had he given you to the trees, the trees would free you. No true crime was committed, and on top of that, your kind was so closely linked to the trees, your life forces depending on each other. 

Beron had tried to warn his father what killing you would do, how his family would lose control of the trees and the forest, how that was a magic given to his family by the Leaf Folks elders hundreds of years ago. A promise not to hunt them, yet every Nobel here had a pair of those wings on their walls. Fresh ones. 

Beron pulled against his chains as he heard you fighting and screaming in the tongue of your people. He watched as you spit on the male dragging you, watched as you spit on his father. 

You had, in many ways, made Beron's life easier. You had killed two of his brothers during your capture, making him the clear heir. You had stabbed his father with something rumors from the healers say wasn't closing, festering in his skin and muscles like an infection. The look of pride as you looked down from your nose towards his father made Beron smirk. You'd die a warrior. Die with not an ounce of fear but instead a river of rage. 

His wife. His powerful fearless wife.

That sneer didn't change as you were tied to the stake. It didn't change as your so-called charges were read. It didn't change as you waited to be given the ability to speak one last time. 

“The last of your kind, yet you won't beg for your life?”

“No,” you answered his father plainly. 

The High Lord seemed surprised as he spoke again, “So you will curse my son to a life of madness?”

“I've cursed your son and court to so much more than that already,” you glared

It was then that Beron noticed the runes carved into your body in captivity. He held his breath as he read each one. As he read the fate your death would seal for this court and for him.

You had been lied to, told he gave away your location, that he handed you away willingly in exchange for the bride sitting next to him. All lies he would never be able to change.

It looked as if you were praying, but Beron knew the signs of Leaf Folk magic now. He knew what was happening as the wind picked up and lightning struck as your pyre was lit. 

Beron shot out of bed, shaking his head as the nightmare replaying her death was fresh in his mind. He still blamed himself, still blamed Aurelia. 700 years later and he wasn't over her. 

But how could he have been? Her curse was a plague on Autumn. A deep rot that settled into the remaining signs of her village first. Then that grove he had married her in. Then the surrounding forest and villages. It was choking off life in his court. Illness, famine, and death followed in its path.

Her curse had not just taken the forest, though, it had taken him. The lifeless mating bond was doubled by what she had down. Beron lost all sense of emotion and Humanity once she was gone. He lost himself. That much was clear by the scars littering his wife and children. By what he had done to Lucien. 

He had no one to blame but himself.

He knew she was forbidden. A female considered low fae with wings like the rustling leaves of this very court, but Beron couldn't stop himself. He couldn't resist the feel of her soft skin, her scent of spun sugar and apples, her soft hair. Her eyes were his favorite thing, so light and bright. Full of life. 

As he held his chest in bed, his sleeping wife was next to him. It was those eyes that haunted him. Those last words whispered before an execution.

“A plague on your houses, a plague on your court, until a son brave enough to kill for what's right comes forth.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[robin-evry]

Can I request a Salem Witch Yuu? I mean like witches during the Middle Ages how women were accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake. Whether Yuu is actually a witch or not depends on you

Sure, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 🧹🌳

The Salem witch trials were a series of hearings and prosecutions of people accused of witchcraft in colonial Massachusetts between February 1692 and May 1693. More than 200 people were accused. Thirty people were found guilty, nineteen of whom were executed by hanging (fourteen women and five men). One other man, Giles Corey, died under torture after refusing to enter a plea, and at least five people died in the disease-ridden jails.

( English is not my first language )

Day 4 : Salem witch!yuu

Okay, I imagine Salem witch!yuu come from a family of witches, but never have the chance to learn about magic due to her family making seems like a curse rather than a gift but their mother teaches them a little magic. At the age of 9 years old their mother was caught using magic to heal their sibling and was sentenced to death by burn in a stake and they had to watch it, and Their father died from an illness. And 3 months later their sibling has died and succumb to starvation.

At the age of 15 they were caught and were tried to be hung, before their last breath a black carriage appeared and everything turned to black. They soon wake up in twisted wonderland at the entrance ceremony. When they see grim, they immediately bolted from the mirror room... And shouting devil, devil, devil

After Crowley managed to calm them down, Crowley explained everything to them. He noticed something weird towards Salem witch!yuu they are thinner than any student, eye bags and there are some red marks from the rope that was hanging them.

The ghost in ramshackle takes pity for the Salem witch! yuu, during the first time they tried food. They literally cried In front of Crowley admitting they rarely ate as well never having anything this delicious before.

Salem witch!yuu is pretty thin and underweight, what's more noticeable about part of them is the scars that the rope left of them, for them this scar is symbolic meaning that they can't escape their past and that will always follow them.

Salem witch!yuu hates magic seeing it as the root of their problems as well a curse that leads into the death of their family members. Originally everyone thought that they were magic less because they never once sense or see any magic come out of them until during riddle overblot where they hit riddle with a magic.

As well I believe they will be paranoid af, and they will easily apologize to people. Afraid of doing something wrong or making a mistake. Or Salem witch!yuu would be pretty nihilistic, like how ironic that the people unable to use magic seemingly look down upon by the world.

Ace and deuce are the very first person they manage to warm up a bit. Salem witch!yuu would be literally afraid of malleus literally screaming and calling him the devil, when malleus asked why they would do that and Lilia responded by saying that they must suffer a lot. So basically when Lilia appears he immediately sees the Salem witch!yuu scars and felt pity over them.

Salem witch!yuu would definitely be clueless how to use magic. Because during the time their lives cameras weren't a thing.

Salem witch!yuu come from a family of magic users but instead of being praised their family members were sentenced to death by hanging or fire, they use a wooden staff that is similar to what fern use from fieren : beyond friend journey anime, but usually after school Salem witch!yuu learn some basic magic from Crowley.

They also might have a phobia of fires due to their mothers and her scream still ringing in her ears. At night grim would wake from Salem witch! Yuu was crying in their sleep having dreams about their family. And he will always be there to comfort them.

Sorry if this was inaccurate or lack of understanding. or short

[bigoltrashpile]

Slasher Meet Cutes

For that lovely anon who reads all the slasher au stuff every fall UwU I was thinking, and what could be better than some fun little scenarios of meeting a murderer! Here's the original post if you don't know what I'm talking about, lol. I hope you enjoy!

Slasher Undertale Sans (Rubix): While Rubix doesn't do much of the dirty work as half of the Jigsaw killer, he does stake out potential victims. That's when he met you. He was following a potential victim, when the suspect bumped into you. Immediately, the asshole started blaming you, only getting more and more violent. When Sans stepped in to help you, the look of relief on your face was absolutely addicting. He wanted to see that expression every day. He just has to take care of this filth first.

Slasher Undertale Papyrus (Chess): Surprisingly, Chess meeting you had nothing to do with his secret life. He was walking his dog ("NOT MY DOG, HE JUST HANGS AROUND, AND NOBODY ELSE IS TAKING CARE OF HIM!") when Toby got off the leash and ran right over to you. Thankfully, you weren't mad, and seemed to enjoy petting the dog. However, Chess quickly noticed that you had a black eye, which you weakly explained away while you chatted. It looks like Chess has a new target, if he wanted to protect that beautiful smile.

Slasher Underswap Sans (Button): You would meet Button while he was still alive, so pre-doll body. However, like the regular Chucky, he was a criminal before his death. He met you while he was staking out a potential hit, a large store where you happened to be shopping. He got so engrossed in talking to you that he completely forgot about his job! Sadly, that store is also where he was killed. After his death, when you happened to walk into the doll shop, his heart skipped a beat. If he had one, that is. You will be his, he lost you once, it's not going to happen again.

Slasher Underswap Papyrus (Strings): Strings was always very charismatic, but not much of a social butterfly. He only met you after he began making dolls, after his brother's death. You both happened to be shopping at the same craft store, and Strings could practically feel himself falling for you when he saw you smile. While he couldn't muster the courage to talk to you, he followed you home after, completely forgetting about his errands! Don't worry, he'll formally meet you soon. He just has to make everything perfect.

Slasher Underfell Sans (Butcher): Your "meet cute" with Butcher is a classic final girl situation. You had been camping, and he had killed the rest of your group, leaving only you. He had his machete raised, about to kill you, but....you just looked so cute! You were trying to be brave, even though he was covered in your friends' blood. You held up a stick, face contorted with rage, and...well, he fell for you! That cute little face trying to fight back fear and be brave was just so cute! He'd have to keep you for himself. He wanted to see that cute face twisted up into other expressions~

Slasher Underfell Papyrus (Lucid): Like Button, Lucid knew you while he was still alive. He had a crush on you, even though he was far too proud to ever admit it. You lived next door to each other, and Noir would always try to show off whenever he got the chance. After he died, he searched endlessly to try and find your dreams. Once he found you, he began to follow you in your dreams every night. He's not sure if you've ever noticed the skeleton that appears to you every night. No matter what, you're the only one in town who never has nightmares.

Slasher Swapfell Sans (Rue): It was supposed to just be a regular job for Rue. He was going to kill you if you couldn't let go of your regrets, nothing crazy. Once you were able to let go successfully, though, he couldn't stop coming back. There was something...magnetic about you. He would watch you from the shadows, trying hard to think of something to say. Maybe he'll find a reason to get close to you again. For now though, he'll just watch you enjoy your life free from regret.

Slasher Swapfell Papyrus (Creeps): Like his brother, he's way too shy to talk to you. That could also be because he's a hermit who lives in his and his brother's derelict old house. But also because he's shy. When he met you, you were trying to help out a neighbor, whose cat ran into his yard. He was originally going to kill you for trespassing, but...just look at you! You're so sweet to help your neighbor, and the way your brows furrowed when you were worried is just adorable! He's not ashamed to admit that he followed you home and watched you the rest of the night. Don't worry, next Halloween, he's going to make sure to bring you home with him, where you belong. Then you can both be truly happy.

[thepaladincosplays]

I'm Retiring.

Yeah, no. No funny openings, no witty banter, not even an easy way to explain the title other than: Yea. I'm retiring... kind of. More below.

As you guys know I've been writing for the Callyieverse and Tales of Mewni for quite some time. It's almost been 7 years. Seven. Years. As Callyie once put it, I'm literally one of the founders of the Callyieverse. I ain't the creator herself but I respect to her for inspirin' me all those years back to get back into writing fanfiction and all that. Having said that:

I'm no longer going to be writing anything Callyieverse or Tales of Mewni related. I'm just burnt out of it, truth be told, this has been one of my biggest hyperfixations for a long time and even though I never finished quite a few storylines, I just can't really bring myself to continue writing for it. Burn out's real and, honey, call me Icarus bc I've been flying by the sun these last few years.

What does this mean moving forward?

Well, simply put, the following:

All my current, on-going projects are cancelled.

Most likely any commissions, art or fic, will be all you see of my characters unless someone else writes them.

This blog'll remain active since it's my main but just be aware that any fanfics ya see will be other fandom related

I won't be taking commissions any longer.

I'd also like to share with everyone how the following storylines would've gone.

Protecting the Peace

First off, holy hell there would have been so much new lore pushed into Mewni. With the Southern Vale being a completely closed off area there was going to be a lot more "return to formula" type creatures and more of the original show's feel.

Also, it would've revealed that the Goliaths weren't actually nearly as extinct as I've said they were these last few years. An enclave of Goliaths, taking one of the old cities and rebranding it "New Janek City," would have been one of the final obstacles in Visas' journey.

How would it have ended? Well...

Visas, everyone that came down to help her (Petal, Nia, Sunshine, Luci, Higgs, Pearl, Sarasim, and Hava (whose disappearance would've also been explained), and Elza would've discovered that (a) Visas and Elza were actually sisters after Haku and Eboshi had a fling together a few years before Haku met Higgs; (b) Visas was becoming more Precursor than Mewman bc of Precursor genetics and that change was being accelerated by Precursor magic; and (c) there were Gods watching over Mewni this whole time. Yeah. There would've been an explanation that they were amongst the first gods in creation but they didn't vibe with the feel of many dimensions until they reached Mewni, in its infancy, wherein they staked their claim and ruled over this new land. However, by the time Mewmans started taking over everything they'd long been forgotten to the point of being myths of myths, but the ancient Precursors kept the belief in them alive in the Vale when they established the first Magic Empire. Despite their disconnect from Mewni and Mewmanity, the Gods would not have been happy with the fact Astro was king. Not because he's a Titan (they scoffed at the idea of Gods despising Titans, seeing themselves as "above petty ideologies") but literally because Mewni was established as a Matriarchy and they imply they had a hand in tipping the scales in the Mewmans' favor (via the MHC) in exchange for Mewmans modelling themselves after the Gods.

Visas and co. return back to the Sanctuary wherein Visas declares that, by divine right, she's the Empress of the Vale and the first thing she's doing is going home, taking her sister with her, and beginning to live her life for herself for once.

Tony and Stacie Q

Now I know this'll come as a shock, but... T and Q would've ended up with a happily ever after. The next big fic I was working on was a dinner date where Tony was going to meet her parents, but, like I said, burn out's a bitch and I just never got around to finishing it.

Ashur, Nenet, the Hydra

Ash trying to overcome his greatest inner turmoil would've been... a long thing coming. He'd have a lot of insecurities to work through and even having slip ups like him getting into a fight with Lars over Nenet. Eventually, his Hydra side and him would've realized that neither could exist without the other and Ash would've fully embraced that side of him, effectively getting rid of it and finally living his life the way he wants to.

Tales of Mewni: Ragnarok

Loki and Cordelia would've ended up together... kind of? And the story would've ended with the fabled battle between the Aesir and Jotnar with Loki finding out his dead wife's soul was being made to fight for Odin. That would not have ended well for anyone involved. Loki also would demonstrate his immense magic power, to stop the fighting, by holding the weather still across all Nine Realms and even Avalon itself. All to remind everyone who exactly he is, why he's declaring the battle over, and sending the Jotnar back to their respective realms.

And... that's all.

I wanna thank quite a few people in no particular order, but first I'd like to thank @princesscallyie for taking a chance at reading The New Kids when I first brought it to her attention back in January of 2018 and for creating this next gen verse as a whole. I'd also like to thank @kururu418 for being there along my side helping me figure out ways to make things work for the Tales of Mewni side of things. @laylaylamode, I love the Stacies and the way you encouraged me even in my lowest moments with writing for the verse. @onelastfic, thank you for being such an amazing friend and confidant, as well as someone who I could always share and work on ideas with.

And to all my friends whom I talk to the most @princekaiofstars @aj-thegreatest @omnitheleader @yah-gurl-ari @des-the-girl @froppy-butterflyfan2000 @cooltmoney95, I cannot thank you guys enough for your support.

[allisonreader]

@inklings-challenge Here is my retelling of Sleeping Beauty for the four loves challenge. I have posted it before but I did go through and edited/rewrote it. When I originally wrote it, I hadn’t had any intention of writing it, but it flow right out.

Sleeping Beauty

"No. You shall not curse my daughter. She is not the one responsible for MY oversight or decision. If anyone must take your wrath for not being invited, let it be me, not my daughter," the Queen stood protectively in front of her daughter sleeping peacefully in her cradle, glaring at the vile fairy trying to stake a death curse on the newborn.

"Very well Queen Viola, on your daughter’s 16th birthday you shall take her place and die. Should she ever learn before that point that you have taken the curse bestowed upon her first, she shall join you in your final resting place," the vile fairy laughed as she left, waking the little princess.

Queen Viola comforted her daughter as her heart broke. Her daughter would be safe, even if it meant her life.

There was one fairy left, one who was not vile and tainted by a dark heart. The remaining good fairy had been able to soften the curse into an enchanted sleep for either a hundred years or a kiss from a devoted love (whichever should come first). The fairy had told the King and Queen that for this to work, the king must let the Queen sleep for at least a few years before he tried to wake her.

This would be a challenge, but it gave them hope. That even if they were going to be separated for a few years, that at least they could be together again.

Thus the King and Queen showered their daughter with love and kept their plans from her of how they were going to solve the issue of the Queen's impending sleep.

Over the years their daughter grew ever so lovely and kind. Never once learning the fate that awaited the queen.

Not once did the dear sweet child doubt the love her parents had for her. Leaving her all the more shocked in the week leading up to her 16th birthday as the majority of the castle staff worked on finishing their preparations to leave, with the queen to remain behind.

It hurt her heart to see her daughter beg and beg her to come with them, and to have to tell her no, she couldn’t. If she could give her the true reason why; she would, but she didn’t dare risk her only child's life.

The day before her daughter’s birthday, her husband and daughter left the castle grounds. She watched sadly from the tallest tower as almost all of the staff left with her family. If all went as planned, she would see both her husband and daughter in a few years.

Her wait wasn’t more than a few hours for her daughter’s birthday to come. Once it did, she laid upon the bed prepared for her and pricked her finger with the spindle and fell to sleep.

The King lived on as asked to do by his Queen. There was hardly a day that didn’t go by that he didn’t think about his wife and pray for her. Every day his daughter would ask about her mother, lamenting that he left her behind. How could he be so cruel?

Still he didn’t dare speak about the curse that her mother took on for her. What if it killed his daughter instead of placing her inside an enchanted sleep like her mother. No, it simply wasn’t worth the risk.

The years passed by slowly. His daughter continued to blossom into a beautiful young woman. At 18 he and his daughter started considering suitors for her, as much as his daughter longed for her mother to be part of the process. A little past 20, she had found a partner in the third born prince from a nearby kingdom.

It took coaxing for her to marry her prince without her mother there, but he knew it was what Viola wanted. Still he waited. Just a little bit longer and he could finally go and reclaim his bride. His daughter was a bit over 23 when she announced that she was expecting and how she wished her mother could be there to see it.

Now it was time.

Much to his daughter and son-in-law’s surprise, he left the expecting parents in charge of the kingdom, while he left on a journey to reclaim his bride, his wife of many years.

There were challenges along the way, clearly trying to keep him from his wife but he persevered through them all. Finally he came upon his wife in the tallest tower and gave a sob upon seeing her once again. His beautiful wife, sleeping, waiting for his kiss.

Caressing her face gently, he first kissed her forehead, each temple, each cheek, the tip of her nose and then finally her lips. She woke slowly, her eyes struggling to open. So he started telling her everything that she had missed as she worked towards waking up. How strained his relationship with their daughter had become at times because he didn’t dare explain the curse to her yet. He hadn’t wanted to risk either their daughter or her.

He told her of their daughter’s husband and the fact that they were to be grandparents, if they weren’t already. He told her of how he missed her every day and how he wished she could have seen it all.

Until finally his wife was fully awake and the pair celebrated and made up for lost time.

The King and Queen made it home to see the (open to all who desired to come) dedication of their grandchildren, as their daughter had given birth to twins. The curse was truly broken.

Their daughter overjoyed to be reunited with her mother and even more so once she understood that the separation had been for her own safety. That the curse that had been placed on her, had been taken up by her parents, so that she would be protected.

[catcherwrites]

TDP S7E7 Rewatch (feat. my commentary)

Everyone’s suiting up for a hero shot! I love the owl griffons

Number one rule in media: if you explain a plan before it’s been executed, there is a 95% chance that the plan will fail

“Big help” callback to Ezran’s line in S3?

The fact that Soren and Corvus were explicitly sent on the Zubeia mission and Terry just…tags along without being asked. He’s just happy to help :)

I absolutely ADORE Astrid asking everyone she meets if they’re Aunt Amaya and complimenting them anyway

This scene between Karim, Janai, and Amaya originally made me think that the show would be redeeming Karim, which is SO funny in retrospect

Ethari baiting Rex Igneous with a hallucination-inducing berry pavlova was not on my S7 bingo card

I find it so fascinating that Aaravos proclaims innocence by telling Ezran essentially “well I never hurt you [humans]. Everything I did was for you [humanity]". He and Viren were so alike in that way – constantly minimising/justifying the pain their ‘allies’ suffer due to their actions. They’d argue that hurting you is a worthy sacrifice (or compromise, in Aaravos’ words) so long as your shared enemy is also hurt

Side note, Aaravos’ star markings are completely unblemished by the dirt, scratches, and bruising. Idk, just a cool detail I noticed

“Have Zubeia back in a week” yeah…about that

Truth be told, the first time I watched this episode, the hints about what happens when a Startouch elf dies went over my head. Now that I’m rewatching it, I can really appreciate Aaravos’ manipulation. You can tell he’s intentionally sowing the seeds in hopes that Ezran will act rashly and unleash a nova

Claudia looked soooo creepy standing in the shadows! I absolutely LOVED it!

The animation for the mage battle was fairly well done (I do wish Callum and Claudia were moving around and interacting with their environment more though? They both just stood there casting spells at each other)

“We wait for Callum … Then he will decide whether you live or die” was a fantastic response from Runaan. He’s an assassin, it’s his job to kill, but only when he’s been ordered to

I really want to know what these dragon-winged elves are! The wing placements are different from standard Skywing elves

Genuinely, truthfully, I lost my mind when I saw the magma titan the first time…

…And then doubly lost my mind when I saw Ziard summoning Avizandum’s spirit

Overall thoughts:

There’s so much about this episode that I love, and I think it’s one of the episodes that is benefited most by a rewatch. The highlight for me is definitely Aaravos and Ezran’s interactions, but I have to give a shoutout to Akiyu for being our first major character death of the season (sorry Lujanne). Unfortunately, this episode was also the one that made me realise a slight issue I have with TDP Arc 2 overall; the battle sequences. Arc 1 had some really dynamic fights, and from what I remember of Arc 2’s fight scenes, they just don’t hit as hard. Don’t get me wrong, every battle in Arc 2 has at least one standout moment for me, but the average sequence tends to be ‘flat’ and ‘stiff’ (I can’t think of better words to describe my memory of them). If we get Arc 3, I hope that’s something the team gets to work on in the future! That tangent aside, this episode did a great job of raising the stakes and setting us up for the last two episodes.

[msklassickilla]

Prada You Chapter 4

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author's Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warnings: Please be advised that this chapter contains harsh/foul language, age gap, brief asphyxiation

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story. All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 4: Ride

I laid in my bed with my feet up against the wall. True Life on MTV was playing in the background, but I was paying no attention. My mind was on Jey. I still hadn't got the nerve to call. Every time I got the nerve to dial the number; Michael's warning would replay in my mind.

Yea, Michael was hater, but he knew more about these streets than I did. He was 13 going on 43. Wise beyond his years but I would never admit it aloud. I laid there thinking things over. My birthday was officially 86 days away.

"That's a big day, Nye. You can't miss going all out like that. Last year was cool but you gotta go harder," I reasoned aloud.

I was about to take a dive in dangerous waters. Sharks was beneath that surface so I knew I had to tread carefully even if I was shark too.

"Get what you need and dip, Nye. Do him how you did all the other dudes," my inner conscience advised.

I was known as a playa. I typically dated a dude until I got bored with him. Not too many could keep up with me. Rolling over, I grabbed the house phone. I had my own personal line so I knew nobody could eavesdrop on my conversation. I snatched up the folded card with Jey number on it. Pushing the numbers in, I had to calm myself.

The phone rang three times before he answered.

"State ya business," Jey said, coolly.

"Um, hey. You told me to call you," I shyly replied into the receiver.

There was a brief silence, and I swear I was holding my breath in anticipation.

"Bout time you called me. How you living, mamas?"

I exhaled, smiling wide.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I ain't got no complaints. Shit no lie my day done got better since you called though" he imparted. 

This negro was smooth. I would have to check myself around him. However, two could play that game.

"Word? You gotta be around me more often. Can't have you out here having bad days. No. Not on Nye watch."

He chuckled. My ass could be just as suave as he was.

"So that's ya name. Our last two run-ins, it slipped my mind to ask. Nye, short for what?"

"Nyeya. What's yours?"

Another brief silence.

"Joshua. If you stick around long enough, I'll let you call me that, Ms. Nyeya."

He was making me blush, "I plan too."

Oh, I was acting real bold but I had plans. Playing safe wasn't gon' cut it. I had to stake my claim.

We stayed on the phone for almost an hour. I now had some preliminary information to go on. Josh- I mean Jey was 29. A Leo. No kids. No wife. No hoes but I felt that was a lie. And a whole lotta money that I wanted. I had to just wiggle my way inside his heart to get to it.

"You gon' come chill with me tonight, Ms. Nyeya," Jey queried.

I giggled. His accent was so cute to me. It was like some country twang mixed with a little southern gentleman thug.

"What time you talking?"

It might have seemed like I was moving too fast but the clock was ticking. I had to utilize every minute to maximize getting my party paid for.

"I got some thangs to handle. Tell you this, meet me at that white house on Bend Dr. around 9, aight."

Bend Drive was a couple blocks over but nothing I couldn't handle as far as walking. The white house was infamous because that was one of the Prada Bois traps.

"Okay. For sure. See you later then."

And with that we hung up. I hadn't realized it, but my heart was beating fast. This was really happening. I took a moment to gather myself before I called Kiyah, Natasha, and Nataya. This three-way phone call was necessary.

⸺

7pm rolled around fast. I had to admit I was nervous. My palms was sweaty. The heat from the straightening comb above me didn't help. Natasha was pressing my hair. The girls decided to come over and help me get ready. They was all for me going after Jey. They were aware of the benefits they would reap if I was the girl of Jey, ½ head of the Prada Bois.

"Nye! Stop moving before I burn yo ass," Natasha warned.

My foot was bouncing up and down in anticipation of what was to come. I had dealt with some dudes with money, but they wasn't on Jey level.

"Damn! My bad. I'm nervous as fuck. Like what I am supposed to do?" I worried.

My question sounded immature. However, Jey wasn't no immature little ass boy. He was a grown ass man. I felt inadequate on some level.

"Do you what you do to them other niggas that have them fallin' all over ya ass. That Nye Voodou," Kiyah cackled. 

The twins fell out laughing too. I couldn't help but join them. There was a rumor going around that I was putting spells on dudes because ain't no way dudes could be acting like they was. Some hating hoes started that; I just know it. I was bomb all the way around. What I had was rare. And that's when it clicked. I just had to be me. Dope ass Nyeya Noir Green.

"If he anything like Jimmy then maybe I can help you out," Nataya began. 

We all gave her our attention. She was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed with a VIBE magazine in hand.

"Well, hoe? We waiting," Kiyah blurted aloud.

Nataya simpered, almost like she had gotten shy.

"Um. Well. I don't really know Jey, but Jimmy speaks highly of him. He said that Jey is good dude," she paused. "He mentioned one night that the way into a Prada Boi heart is through seeing past what they do. Seeing them as humans."

I marveled at that. I guess there was more than meets the eye with Jimmy and the other Prada Bois. They had heart. I was hoping Jey was who Jimmy said he was.

"So, this nigga be opening up to you? This shit done got serious, huh?" Kiyah pried.

Nataya snickered.

"We just chillin'. He good people and he treat me nice. I think we can get there one day," she gushed.

I was happy if she was. We all deserved happiness so it wasn't no hating going on when it came to me.

"Damn! So that mean y’all boo'd up and we ain't?" Kiyah pouted.

"Un-uh, just you. I got a boo. You just lonely hoe," Natasha corrected.

We cackled. By 8, my hair was laid, and my outfit was on point. Nataya had let me borrow an outfit that Jimmy bought her. It was a matching red and white plaid two-piece shirt and skirt set. The shirt came down to my belly button. I paired that with some red chucks with white long socks scrunched down like leg warmers. It was cute. I sprayed on some Tommy Girl perfume that my mama had sitting on her dresser. I had said my goodbyes and was out the door by 8:30.

⸺

It would be hot as hell during the day but by night it would cool off. My freshly pressed hair blew in the breeze as I walked over to Bend Dr. The neighborhood was quiet with the usual dog barking for no reason. It was a Monday night, so the city was preparing for bed.

I approached the white house at the end of the dead-end street. Only the bottom windows was illuminated. Two cars sat out front. A black BMW and a red Grand Marquis with 22-inch chrome rims which I knew belonged to Damian.

As I got closer, my nerves showed up again. Questions bounced around in my head. Did he say knock? Am I just supposed to sit out here and wait? Do they know I'm out here? These types of dudes shot first and asked questions later.

So, I decided against knocking and took a seat on the trunk of Damian's car. It didn't take long before a stocky dude the same hue as Jey and Jimmy peeped out the front door. He looked a few years older than me from what I could see.

"Who you here for?" he called out.

"Jey."

He nodded before disappearing. About a five minutes later, dude stuck his head out the door again.

"Jey on his way out. Just chill for a few."

I nodded in response. I picked at the imaginary lint on my skirt for a while and then check my small mirror from my purse to see if anything was on my face using the light from the streetlamp. As I added more gloss to my lips the front door opened. Jey, Damian, dude from earlier, and another unidentified man stepped out onto the porch.

They noticed me as they continued their hushed conversation. I slid down off of Damian's trunk and lingered by the BMW which I figured was Jey's. Damian descended down the steps towards me first. He looked me up and down. I smirked, knowing what that was about.

"Hope your little ass ain't put in a dent in my shit, mami," he joked.

"Nah. I ain't do you nothin,” I smiled.

He grinned. Before he could say something else, Jey had a question.

"Ain't you got somethin' to do, uce?"

Nothing about his tone was nice. He was staring a hole in Damian ass. Damian shot me a side glance before hopping in his car without another word. I guess he knew what time it was. Jey wrapped up his conversation with the two dudes left. I was close enough to hear the car unlock even though I didn't see him push the button.

I took that as my cue to get inside the car. It smelled like Black Ice. The inside was nice, real nice. Leather seats, plush floor mats, and a phone. Yup, Jey was definitely paid. The driver side door opened up and a good smellin' Jey hopped inside.

"Aye I apologize about the wait. Money calls," he apologized.

"No worries. You good," I reassured.

Jey started up the car and the dashboard lit up like a spaceship. My eyes widened in amazement. I had been around fancy shit before; just not enough to be used to it. Most dudes had Fords and Chevy's. This imported stuff was fancy.

"You like what you see, huh?"

I glanced in his direction. He had his trademark smirk going on.

"Yup. Do you?"

His eyes widened.

"Gahdamn girl! You coming like that, huh? I like that shit," He laughed.

We pulled off from the white house heading to an unknown destination. My nerves had settled as we drove through our city. Conversation flowed effortlessly as we flirted back and forth. After a while I realized we had been going nowhere in particular. Just driving around, the city talking.

I mean I wasn't mad at that, but I had initially thought something different. However, when he turned off the main road onto a little dirt road, I panicked.

"Jey! Where the hell we going?" I questioned.

He chuckled, "Relax, it ain't what you think it is. You in good hands. Trust me."

I was still on edge but relaxed enough to sit back in my seat. A few moments later, the BMW finally came to a stop. We were perched on a dirt road that gave you the perfect view of the Downtown skyline. Through the windshield it looked like a picture. I beamed at all the lights. The skyline was beautiful.

"Oh wow. This is dope. How you find out about this?"

My eyes were wide taking it all in.

"By accident."

His reply was simple yet said so much. He turned the ignition off and relaxed in his seat. The car was quiet.

"What's on ya mind?" I asked, noticing his attention seemed elsewhere.

Those brown eyes of his shifted towards me.

"You."

There was a tinge of heat that overcame me when he said those words. I wasn't tryna go there with him but he if kept it up I would.

"Word? What about me?"

He stroked his beard as he sized me up. Shaking his head, "I can't put my finger on it but it's something, something about you just scream trouble."

My hand immediately flew up to my heart in shock. 

"What you mean trouble? Like good trouble?" I asked to clarify.

He laughed showing off the gold bottoms in his mouth.

"You seem hurt by that, Nyeya. I ain't mean no harm. Just calling it how I see it."

I was highly offended. How he just gon' prejudged me? I sat back, speechless. Not because I didn't have nothing to say but because it wasn't gon' come out the right way. I felt Jey watching me. I ignored the urge to look at him and just stared out the window. This wasn't going how I thought it would.

Silence. Nothing but silence for 10 minutes. He never took his eyes off me. It was like he was tryna figure me out, define what I was. I wanted to shift in my seat but feared it would come off as if I had something to hide. He ain't make it to the top of Prada Bois by being no fool. I'm sure he could sense bullshit a mile away. 10 minutes turned to 15.

"My age. It’s my age," I whispered.

11 years apart. A big gap to most. I appeared more of threat because I was young. At the moment, all my plans was slipping through my hands like sand.

"You think that's it, huh?"

This response prompted me to finally meet his eyes.

"Yea. You scared. Scared I'ma hurt you, set you up."

Without blinking, he explained, "Flip that around. I'm scared of what I would do to you."

My heart dropped into my stomach. He meant that shit with every fiber in his being. Ain't gon' front, I was low-key scared. However, Toy ain't raise no weak kids.

"You ain't gon' hurt me. If anything, you gon' love me."

I dropped my head after my response and sat back in my seat. My cards was on the table. Either I won this hand, or I didn't. There was brief moment of silence. A warm calloused hand traced the length of my jaw. Jey was caressing my cheek, moving to my hair, pulling the loose strands back behind my ear.

"Look at me, Nyeya."

I lifted my head in his direction, staring into those deep brown abysses he called eyes. Jey's hand slowly made its way down my face to my neck. I held my breath as his hand expanded and then slowly tightened around my throat. His eyes never left mines nor did he blink. I was pulled closer. And now we were only centimeters apart, face to face.

“Nyeya. Nyeya. Don't make me regret this," he lowly requested.

Filled with fear and ecstasy, I replied, "You won't. I promise." 

[lurkingshan]

10 Things I Love About Ossan's Love Returns

Y’all. Y'ALL. I am stunned right now. I am verklempt. I never thought I would end up here. But here I am.

I bounced hard off the original Ossan's Love. Like, hard. I DNF'd and immediately memory holed just about everything I knew about it. But people I trust (namely @isaksbestpillow and @twig-tea) said this new series was an improvement on the original, and that I didn't have to go back and try rewatching the first series to dive into this one. So of course I, a jbl devotee, had to give it the old college try.

AND TO MY SHOCK AND AWE, I LOVE IT. This show is excellent. This is Japanese media at its absolute best, showcasing the precision in writing, directing, editing, and acting that they can reach when they are firing on all cylinders. This is the kind of comedy only a Japanese production can get right, because it requires a mastery of all these elements that you just can't get in less mature filmmaking industries. This is the best example I have ever seen of this kind of broad comedic style grounded in real stakes.

So let me tell you why this show, which is available for the international audience on Gaga (and with subs coming from Sirii, as well!), is worth your time:

This is a story about an established relationship between adult characters. Y'all know how I feel about the dearth of this we get in drama! Maki and Haruta have been long distance for four years and are moving in together to start their married life as this show begins.

The writing is unbelievably strong. Everything that happens matters, the characters always make sense, and the jokes are genuinely so fucking funny.

Kurosawa, or Chief, as I refer to him, is one of the funniest characters of all time, in any drama. The way this man had me laughing out loud in every scene! I felt like I got a workout.

This show is a feat of editing. I have been watching a string of shows recently that are getting hamstrung by bad editing, so let me tell you, it was a true pleasure to watch a drama that executes editing tricks so deftly and with such an eye toward sharpening its story and enhancing its jokes.

It has excellent female side characters. We have Chizu, my favorite lady bestie who is here to whip Haruta into shape at all times, and Chuoko, an actual archer who also has her own little romance going, and Haruta's mom, an unbothered legend who just wants to eat her food and get to her dates with her boyfriend.

There's a mystery! Next door to Haruta and Maki are two creepy mfers (brothers?) who are Up To Something. Or not! I don't know but I’ll find out!

We are getting an actual dialogue about gay marriage. Haruta and Maki consider themselves married, but have no legally binding contract and have not yet had a wedding, and they talk about this and their feelings about it often as they are negotiating their lives together.

We may have some aroace rep happening?? This is still pending but my radar is pinging hard for Takegawa to join the incredibly shortlist of explicitly aro and/or ace characters in bl.

DID I MENTION THIS SHOW IS FUCKING HILARIOUS. I cannot overstate the number of times this drama had me straight cackling in three short episodes. I had to get up and do some laps to walk it off.

The show is extremely well paced and I trust it not to waste my time. No small thing in these bl streets! The odd episode order (9) and tight pacing of each of the first three episodes tells me the creators of this show know exactly what they are doing and how much time they need to execute their vision.

This show is airing live for the next six weeks and I strongly encourage you to watch it and come join the fun with us!

[vase-of-lilies]

❀  Pairing: Dark!Vampire!Wanda x Vampire Hunter!Reader(F) (Some Wolf!Bucky x Reader x Wanda)

❀ Warnings: Non-con, dubcon, violence, vampire-esque content, dark!Wanda (she’s a warning…), blood and gore, draining of a body, biting for sexual stimulation, overstimulation, fingering, violence, swearing, use of a dagger, knife play, forced to strip, getting bitten by a vampire but not turning into one, bondage (restraints from ceiling), a punishment, pet names (Sweetheart, little one, etc.), slight somnophilia, spanking, and more!

❀ This is my second entry for @eloquentreverie ’s dusk till dawn challenge! The sentence I chose is:

“Take off your clothes. Slowly. I want to watch you.”

❀ Disclaimer and Authors Note: The pictures only represent aesthetics and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. The pictures go to their rightful owners on Pinterest, and the comic-style pictures belong to the beautiful artist Jenifer Prince.

❀ I hope you like this addition to the collection of Creatures and Foreigners! I would die and be resurrected for vampire!wanda. Literally. This is a re-write, since the original was in 3 parts. To keep this organized, I just made it one post!!

It was time… It was time to catch the creature that was terrorizing the beautiful village you live in. Yorkshire is where you are from, where your beautiful home stands. It's a small cottage with a perfect view of the mountains gracing the East, the sunrises your favorite part of the day. When the sun sets in the west, it's when everyone locks their doors with iron chains, keeps a wooden stake by their beds, a garlic circle around their homes, and prays to the [whichever you believe in] and hopes they survive the night. 

You finally had the will to change this. To help the people you love feel a little safer at night who were terrified of the vampire who lived in the castle on the South Hill. The dark bricks and stones towered over the town, casting a large shadow over everyone at dusk. That shadow was the sign that it was time to prepare for the worst, for the creatures of the night to begin hunting for their midnight snacks. And lastly, for the vampire to find her next source of blood. 

For Wanda, she always loved human blood but never complained with cow, or sheep blood. It was the blood of a fighting soul that tasted best to her. There was something so satisfying watching the life drain from someone’s eyes once their body is empty of their blood. However, whether it was a man or a woman, she loved to torture them before she killed them. She would keep them locked up for days, weeks even, and keep them on their toes. She would feed them one day, and then break their legs the next. She was a storm that you never want to be stuck in the middle of. 

Packing your sash full of what you need was not a challenge at all. Each piece of equipment had a slot that it belonged to. One for your wooden sword, a small chain of iron links, garlic garland, iron cross bow, and last but not least your gun with the solid iron pellets ready to kill any vampire you see. It was not very heavy as one would think, having it around your shoulders made it very easy to access everything as well as keeping it light for you to carry around the woods. 

Wanda, being one of the only vampires in Yorkshire, knew she was being hunted. She could sense the tension coming closer to her castle every step you took down the newly stoned and paved pathway. She could smell your villager blood from miles away. It was a scent she could decipher in a split second. Cow blood smelled cold, almost like a winter morning. But human blood smelled like the moon had created it, making it much more appetizing than a mere animal. 

~~~~~~~

You could see the dark bricks of the castle from a far, your wooden sword drawn and ready to strike anything in its path. The forest became silent, indicating a predator was near and hungry. Leaves were heard crunching under fast footsteps coming closer and closer by the second. Your head whipped from right to left, not knowing where these footsteps were exactly. 

“Show yourself creature!” You shouted into the darkness of the forest. 

“Who are you?” A dark voice echoed in your surroundings, not pointing in a certain direction. 

Not shying from her, you answer honestly. “Y/n, of Yorkshire.” 

She chuckles, “Ah, so townsfolk, hm?” She watches from behind a tree as you struggle to find where her voice is coming from. She senses your fear, so to make matters worse she drags her nails against the trees creating an ear-splitting noise, making you drop your weapon and cover your ears. 

“Ah!!” You shout in pain. As you pull your hands from your ears your skin is coated in the sticky, crimson liquid. “Your time has come, y-you evil creature!”

Wanda chuckles at your struggle, “My time will never come… but yours have.” 

Your brows furrow and you reach for your iron bar. You smirk as you hear the hissing of the vampire, her power of sounding everywhere fading significantly, pointing in the direction of where she could be. “Don’t fucking come near me!” She growls, hiding behind another tree.

“Oh, so I found your weakness…”

She whimpers in response, “Don’t t-touch me!” Lighting your lantern, your eyes catch movement, and you grab the chainlink and throw it to where you see her. 

“Aha! Finally!” You walk over to her, smirking at her as she falls to the ground. “You are going to grant me a fortune…” You say darkly, looking at her with false pity in your eyes. Around you, a growling catches you off guard. Looking around, you don’t see anything immediately, but what Wanda says churns your stomach. 

“Y-your in t-tr-trouble.” She stutters, moving away from you slightly. Wanda smirks and you jump back in fear as a large black wolf shields the vampire. Grabbing your dagger, you lunge forward with no fear. 

“She’s mine!” You growl, slashing the wolfs shoulder making him whimper but he pushes through and pounces on you, biting your leg and ripping a chunk of skin off. You scream in pain, and scamper back as He rips the chains off of Wandas body. 

The last weapon you grab is your gun. You cock it back and point it at both the vampire and the wolf. “Stay back!” A whimper leaves your throat as you scoot back again, your leg dragging against the damp and cold soil below you. 

Wanda glares at you her eyes turning red and a red light appearing at her hands. Before you can pull the trigger, she flings the gun from your hands and your head follows it. Like lightning, your sash of tools was cut from your body and you were flung over Wandas shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

Your arms and uninjured leg flail as you fight against the strong grip of Wandas arms around you, and as you look down from over her shoulder you see the wolf looking up at you smugly. He was with her all along, he wasn’t trying to take her too… You sighed and continued to struggle, all the way to the castle, down two flights of stairs, and through a door to a dungeon full of cells. She throws you onto a dingy cot in the corner of a cell, cuffs your wrists with metal cuffs that don’t hurt her, and leaned against the bars. 

“Let me go you monster!!” You pull the chains connected to the wall hoping to break them. But to no avail were you able to get out of the rings that locked your wrists. 

“Not happening.” Wanda states, staring at you from the edge of the cell. She looks at your leg and her hands turn red once again. You were scared as you felt the tingle in your leg, watching in awe as the chuck of skin missing from your leg was miraculously healed with only a few scars. It was just like the townsfolk said, she will torture you one day, and heal you the next. Making you unaware of what is going to happen next. 

You growl and shout at her. “What do you want from me??” You look up at her, tugging and pulling against the chains again. 

A hard slap across your face shuts you up, and you fall against the cot in surprise. You feel the hand shaped sting and a bruise already starting to form from how hard she hit you. “You tried to kill me and wanted to kill my baby!” She rubs soft circles against the wolfs slick black fur, and he whines softly as she grazes over the cut on his shoulder. 

You look at the wolf who is now eye level with me and you glare as you see your blood staining his teeth. “F-fuck you.” You whisper at him, scooting back as you feel blood dripping from your nose, the act of the slap causing trauma to your nose as well. 

“Oh don’t listen to her baby,” Wanda says calmly as she kneels next to the wolf beside her. “You’re such a good boy.” She smiles as he lets out a happy ‘arf’ and you roll your eyes at them.

“He’s a dumb dog.”  You scoff, leaning against the cool brick wall as you hold a piece of your dress against your nose. To your surprise she slaps you again, making you whimper once again. 

“He’s not just a dumb dog!” She shouts, outraged at your utter disrespect towards her loyal friend. As she was about to lunge at you, a gust of wind blows against your body and you look up to see a greek god of a man, who was formerly the wolf. You yelp in astonishment, never thinking that a werwolf and a vampire would ever be on the same team. 

“Mistress, she’s not worth it.” The man says, holding Wanda by her hips as she tries to scratch and punch at you. You scoot impossibly further from them, and you see Wanda visibly relax as the man holds her hips in his hands. 

“Bucky, she hurt you… she has to pay.” She whispers, ghosting her fingers over the wound on his shoulder. 

He only chuckles and cups her cheek. “Hey, it’s ok… it’ll heal up in no time. She’s weak, it barely hurt.” He kisses her lips, and gently runs his fingers through her hair. You growl and you look away from them, telling yourself internally that you are strong and that you almost had the vampire until the stupid dog showed up. 

She only sighs, staring up at him. “Such a good boy, protecting your mistress…” You mute them in your head as you look around, trying to find any way of escape. Pulling against the chains keeping you locked to the wall was not an option anymore, and fighting was practically useless against either monsters. Maybe it would be a good idea to cooperate. NO! No, don’t fall for her enchantment. She is evil. 

As Wanda sends a final slap to Buckys ass, he leaves the cell and you jump at the door slamming. It was when you were alone with Wanda that your fear really kicked in. “Hmm… look at you all scared.” She saunters over to you, a sadistic smile pulling at her lips. Chills are sent up your spine and a shiver shortly follows. You are vigorously pulling at the chains, whimpering every inch she comes closer to you. 

She sits down on the cot next to you, grabbing your newly healed leg and digging her finger nails into the sensitive skin. “Ah!! St-stop! Stop!” You sob, trying to push her away with all your might. She doesn’t budge and chuckles. 

“Now why would I do that?” She raises her brows at your reaction, smiling as you writhe against her, your whimpers music to her ears. She is arouse by your writhing and she digs her nails even deeper, tears free-falling down your cheeks. She ignores your pleas, shaking her head in disappointment. “You hurt my love. I certainly won’t stand for that.” 

You turn your head, your teary eyes focusing on the lines of the bricks stacked around you in your small cell, trying to ignore the pain in your leg. “What d-do you want f-from me?” You ask in a shaky voice, trembling under Wandas touch. You are confused as you feel warmth on your leg where her fingers had drawn blood. 

“You taste so fucking good…” She whispers. You furrow your brows and you realize she had tasted your blood. You pull at the chains, managing to kick her away from you as you struggle. She growls, having none of what you are giving her. She pounces on top of you, making you groan in pain. “Be grateful I didn’t kill you!”

A pained whimper makes you resent her even more, so you gather spit in your mouth and spew it onto Wandas face. She wipes the spit away in disgust and smacks you across the face again, much harder this time. Your vision becomes blurry and your head feels like it is in a daze. “Please, l-let m-me go,” You stutter, whimpering as you feel helpless looking up at her from your position below her. 

She ignores you and she runs her nose against your neck and to your ear “No,” she whispers, her fangs barely grazing your neck. With a smirk, she closes her jaw, puncturing your skin with her teeth. You scream in pain, your back arching against her as you struggle underneath her. 

It takes everything for Wanda to not drain you, so she pulls back reluctantly. “Shit, you taste like heaven,” she moans at the taste of your blood, smiling as she licks up the puncture wounds adorning your neck. “Mmm, you look better like this…” She says, looking at your writhing and twitching body on the cot. She bites her lip, her pussy starting to form a slick spot on her under garments. Her smirk scares you, and you stare at the ceiling trying to pull at the chains but failing miserably. 

“Please, n-n-no mo-more,” you curl against yourself, trying to hide your vulnerable form from your captor. She smacks your thigh, making you turn around on your back again. She chuckles darkly and bites her lip once again. 

“Look at you…” She says, not pitying you one ounce. It takes much strength to try and sit up, but you manage to do so with a lot of pain. Bowing your head into her lap, you beg her to make the pain stop. 

“Please! Pl-please it hurts s-so b-b-bad!” The bite pulses in pain, my blood pumping to try and close the wound. Sobs and whimpers make your body shake, and Wanda takes notice to her puncture wound on your neck. She sighs and begins to heal it, gently lifting you up. 

“It’s ok…” She says, rubbing small circles on your back as she lays you down on the pillow at the top of the cot. You quietly thank her as you feel the wounds on your neck close, the pain ceasing completely. 

“Why are you keeping me here?” You ask in a raspy voice, confused as to why she hasn’t killed you yet. She looks at you with a tilt of her head, thinking as to why she is keeping you. She smiles to herself and comes to a conclusion. 

“Because I like you. I don’t like that you hurt my baby, but I do like you.” You shook your head. Because she liked you? What is that supposed to mean? Not wanting to be on her bad side, you take the time to apologize. 

“I-im sorry I hurt him. I was trying to make my town finally proud of me.” You sigh softly, scooting away from her and pulling at the chains again.

“It’s ok sweetheart, you’re safe with me.” She whispers. 

“Dont you understand that Im scared of you?” You whimper, “Y-you bit me, a-and hurt me,” Your eyes meet hers, your confusion making you angry. “What is my purpose? A-am I just a toy? What am I?” You ask her, salty tears rolling in beads down your cheeks. She sighs and wipes the tears from your skin, giving you a soft kiss on the nose, ignoring your questions. 

“You’ll get used to me, I promise.” She smiles and pulls away. 

Your eyes narrow, as she stands up, leaving you. “What am I? Pl-please tell me!” You ask desperately, standing up with her but only making it so far until the chains pull you back. 

“Ill see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” Wanda says with a soft smile on her lips, closing the cell door and locking it. She makes her way up the stairs, ignoring your screams and profanities as she locks the dungeon door behind her and hanging the keys on the hook right next to it.  

When the sun rose the next morning, you waited anxiously for Wanda to come back down. Maybe she forgot about you, or doesn’t want to deal with you. What you dreaded most was the fact she may use you as a human blood bag and kill you. You didn’t fear death, you feared the feeling of your blood draining slowly from your body. The blood bubbling at every bite she leaves on you. The fear blocked the fact that it was morning, and she was most likely asleep in the darkness of her chambers above you. 

As you waited, you too fell asleep, dreaming of a place where you would rather be. Safe and in your best friends presence. “Steve… I miss you so much,” You whisper before fully dozing off. Deep in sleep, you don’t hear the metal cell door open and Wandas soft footsteps enter the room. You were too focused on staying warm in your shivering state. 

Wanda took note of your cold and shaking body, so she waved her hand and a soft, furry blanket appeared around your body. She smiled as you cuddled into the soft material and watched you sleep for a moment. Falling out of her staring trance, she sits down on the cot next to you. She gently rubs your back whispering, “Sweetheart? Sweetheart, wake up.” Instinctively you lean into the soft hand against your back, but the memories bombard their way back into your head making you sit straight up and scoot all the way back. 

You stared at Wanda with wide eyes, scared of her further intentions. You are confused as she hands you a bowl of cut up fruit and vegetables, curious as to where she got this food. “Here you go, eat up.” You furrow your brows and look down at the fruit, picking at it. Fishing for some type of sign of poison. Wanda just chuckles and leans against her hand as she watches you. “I promise, its not poisoned. You need to eat, especially after I drank some of your blood yesterday.”

Exhaling the breath you were not aware you were holding, you pick up a ruby, red strawberry. Ripe and firm to the touch. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied hum as you take a bite, the sweet tasting strawberry surrounding your tongue with glorious flavor. 

Wanda moves closer to you, sitting right next to you as you eat. She nuzzles her nose against your neck where two little fang marks sit proudly. You don’t take notice of her fully, the delicious fruit distracting you from Wandas intrusions, even lifting your head up in response. She hums a small chuckle and kisses your cheek, “You are so beautiful, little one. So beautiful.” Freezing your chewing, you swallow and look up at her in slight surprise, her comment catching you off guard.

Butterflies flutter in your belly at the closeness between the two of you, her warm breath against your lips and chin. “Do you really think so?” You whisper, not believing what she is saying at first. 

She nods, “I do, you’re so pretty…” She whispers back, kissing the soft skin of your neck. “And you smell so good, little one.” She hums as her nose moves up your neck, her lips pressing soft kisses in between soft sniffs. The gentleness of her gestures makes you drop the glass bowl in your hands, causing it to shatter against the stone floor. 

Both you and Wanda jump and she pulls away quickly. “Damnit, I can’t get many bowls or plates these days.” She murmurs, starting to collect the broken shards. 

“I-im sorry, I-it slipped,” You stutter, kneeling down to help pick up the shards too. You were too quick with the glass, cutting your finger in the process making you pull back with a wince. A small amount of blood oozes from the small cut and Wanda freezes, her pupils blown full at the smell of the exposed blood. 

She holds back, grabbing a small cloth from her dress and hands it to you, “Here.” She says curtly, but she is stopped. She tilts her head as you hold your hand out. 

“I can see how much you want it,” You say softly, wincing as she gently holds your hand in hers. 

“Are you sure?” She asks hesitantly, softly moaning at the smell as she gets closer. You nod and she brings your finger to her lips, licking the wound and emitting a low hum at the taste. Her eyes close and you look at her curiously. She is in a euphoric state, she is vulnerable and not paying attention when she is drinking your blood. Slowly you begin to become dizzy, the amount of blood coming from your finger increasing by the second. 

Before you can warn her, you fall against the mattress, fully losing consciousness at the loss of blood. Wanda sighs, laying down beside you on the bed. “It’s ok, I got you…” She whispers, her hand roaming the front of your body softly. Her hands cup your breasts, her finger grazing your pebbling nipple from under the fabric of your dress. Wanting to feel more, she unties the twine keeping the leather vest of your dress on and she smiles as it comes loose, your breasts showing themselves under the thin tunic. 

She reaches down your tunic, rubbing your bud softly between her fingers. Her lips kiss your neck, moving slowly down to your slightly exposed back. You feel her as you sleep, but you can’t comprehend anything to stop her. A small whimper exits your mouth and she pulls away for a moment, waiting for you to settle down again. Once your breathing is even, she explores further, lifting your shirt from your tucked in skirt. 

Her hand smoothes over your belly and just over the waist band of your undergarments, pushing under the fabric and to your soft curls underneath. She smiles as she buries her face in your neck, her fingers softly opening your petals and gently running her fingers over your slit. As she holds your folds open, she rubs circles over your clit, making you moan quietly in your sleep. 

As she pleasures you, she bites your neck softly only sucking a small amount of blood this time. Your gasp makes her smile around the wound on your neck and it makes her want even more of you. Her finger moves faster around your sensitive bud, your back arching against her front. Your legs open even more as you lay your head back against her. 

As she moves even faster, a strong and mind numbing orgasm washes over you, pushing you over the edge. Your legs shake in your sleep, and Wanda smirks as she removes her fingers from your undergarments. She brings her fingers to her mouth and hums in delight. “Absolutely delicious, my love.” She whispers in your ear, smirking as your breaths calm down from pants, to a normal rhythm again. Her hand moves to your breasts again, just holding the soft flesh in her hand and palming against them. 

She sighs as she senses you waking up, and makes sure everything is back in order; your shirt tucked into your skirt, tunic back in place, and laces on your leather vest tied with a bow at the top. Sitting up, she frowns at the raw skin and dried blood from around your wrists and unlocks the cuffs. She wraps her hands around the raw flesh and heals them in an instant, kissing them softly. 

She has hope that when the sun sets and the moon rises, you will no longer be in pain. “Mm, such a beautiful girl…” She whispers before she leaves the cell for the night, not thinking twice of the unlocked chains and completely forgetting to lock the cell and dungeon doors. 

~~~~~~~

You were only asleep for a small amount of time, waking up without Wanda anywhere to be seen. You sigh and sit up, feeling quite odd in your lower regions. However, the lack of metal around your wrists made every other thought disappear. Being able to walk around the cell felt nice, but your curiosity took you further. Right to the door. As you pushed, you were even more astonished as it opened. 

Pushing your luck even further, you walk up the spiral staircase to the door of the dungeon. With a gentle nudge, it squeaks open to reveal a large corridor, torches lit on each wall and blood red curtains hanging from each tall window. You were trapped and you were finally free, but the first thought you had was, ‘Where is Wanda?’

You wandered through the hallways, finding your way to the great hall, you come across a grand staircase. Alining the stairs was beautiful red and gold carpet and above it was a dark and spider web-covered, crystal chandelier. It shimmered as the fired torches flickered around the hall. You start to make your way upstairs, and as you walked down yet another hallway, you are stopped by a growl behind you and a searing pain in your leg. 

You instantly scream in agony, struggling against the iron jaws of the werwolf. He didn’t let up, even after hitting his head as he dragged you down the hall and to a bed room. Wandas bed room. Your eyes widen and you dig your nails into the carpet, only resulting in bleeding fingers. As you entered her room, you look up in fear as the woman towers over you. 

“Well, what do we have here?” Wanda tuts, looking down at you. 

You sob loudly as the wolf digs his teeth into your freshly healed leg. You yelp and you look up at her, “I- I wasn’t going t-to es-escape! I wa-wa- AHHH!” The wolf bites down even harder and you try your best to hit him, but it doesn’t phase him. 

“Buck, stand down…” She says, calling off the dog. She grabs you harshly by your shirt and drags you to her bed, throwing you on the mattress. “Don’t lie to me!” She growls, glaring at you as you push yourself away from her, scooting to the top of the bed. 

At this point you weigh out your options: One, you try to escape and get killed by Wanda, “Buck” the dog, or your village when you get back with no vampire. Or two, you stay here and get food, possibly a lover, and a pet dog. The latter sounded more than enjoyable and you break saying, “I- I promise! Th- the chains we-were off me wh-wh-when I woke up! P-please! I- I don't want t-to leave!” 

“Are you sure?” She asks with a growl, crawling towards you with a scowl on her face. “If you’re lying, I’ll feed you to him…” She says, pointing to Bucky who falsely lunges at you just to scare you. As you jump back from him, Wanda only chuckles.

“I-I’m not lying! Y-you’re so kind, a-and fed m-me!” You try, and Wanda sits down across from you on the bed. She grabs your ankle and pulls you to her. Her hands glow a bright red and the pain subsides from your leg again. You sigh in relief, hoping that she will forgive you. 

As she looks at you, she shakes her head and sighs softly. “I believe you, but there will be consequences.” 

Letting out a breath, you nod in understanding. “Y-yes I understand, please forgive me, i-it won’t ever happen again.” You sob, following her gentle movements as she pulls you to her arms. Your head falls onto her chest and she comforts you as you calm down. 

“I forgive you, little one,” She whispers, kissing your head softly and tickling the skin of your arm. “Now let’s go, I need to punish you.” She says, sitting up. Suddenly cold as ice again. Her bipolar emotions confuse you, just like the village said, she keeps you on your toes. 

She hardly grabs your wrist and pulls you down the flights of stairs to the dungeon again. You swiftly follow her, trying to keep up with her fast walking pace. Once in the dungeon, she pulls you to a different portion of the room, one full of many torture devices now considered controversial to use. You freeze as you take in the new surroundings and you jump as the bars slam closed and lock behind you. 

Wanda steps into the far wall of the room and grabs her tools she desires: Rope and a wooden paddle. You stared in horror at the tools as she lays them down on the table next to a long chain connected to the ceiling. From a hidden sheath on the side of her thigh, she pulls out a sharp dagger, pointing it at you. 

She stalks towards you, holding the knife at the height of your neck. Backing up, you whimper as your back hits the cold, metal bars, Wanda then putting the tip of the blade against your neck. “Strip.” She says, pulling away from you. Frozen in fear, you don’t account for her command and you stare at her. To make you cooperate, she sends a glowing ball of energy towards you making you duck in response. 

“Im going to repeat myself, and you better listen this time…” She says in a dark voice, only warning you once. “Now, Take off your clothes. Slowly. I want to watch you.” 

Swallowing your pride, you obey her. Untying the twine holding your vest over your torso, untucking your tunic from your skirt, pulling the string from around the back, and finally the removing of it all. Wanda was in fact a very patient women, and she made that clear. She growls at your speed and makes her hand light up with energy again. “Slower…” She says. Once again, you obey.

One piece of clothing after another, no less than four (4) seconds between each. Finally, you were down to your brazier and pantyhose. Wanda watches at you, a sadistic smile on her face as she saunters towards you with the dagger in hand. She grabs your wrist and pulls you to the middle of the floor. Of course you struggled. Wanda was angry, and you had only seen a sliver of it. 

“Good girl… hold your wrists together.” She says, holding the dagger to your neck again. You felt immense fear as you held them together, and sucked in a breath as a tendril of red energy wraps its way around the dagger keeping it against your neck. Wanda moves around you, grabbing the rope from the wooden cart settled near by. She comes to your front again and begins to wrap a few rings of rope around your wrists. Circle by circle of rope, you were rendered unable to move your hands anywhere, only your arms could move up and down. 

You whimpered as Wanda wrapped a heavy padlock around the middle of the rope and easily pulled your arms up to the hook hanging above you. She steps away, taking the dagger with her and moves to the far wall. Using her strength, she pulls the chains connected to the ceiling up higher than it was before, pulling you up with them. You arms pulled against your body and when she finished locking the chains in place, you could barely graze the floor with your toes. 

Whimpers left your mouth and you could’t hide the fear anymore. Salty tears fell down your cheeks and landed on your chest and the floor. With false pity, Wanda pouted her lip. “Aw, don’t cry little one… It will only hurt a little.” Her voice was full of lies, and you knew this pain would be excruciating. 

Tears fell down your cheeks, but Wanda paid no attention to your emotions, only your reactions to the sensations she was going to give you. In an instant, she had cut through the thin material of your brazier leaving your breasts exposed to her. She smiles and leans down, kissing the ample skin of your right breast. Your nipples harden in the cold atmosphere of the room, Wandas mouth and hand going straight to them. She rubs, licks, sucks, rolls, and pleasures your buds, pushing a burning desire in your lower belly. She could sense this and smirks as she runs the knife down your torso. 

She turns the knife against your stomach, tilting it and smirking at the small bit of blood pooling at the surface of the small cut. “Mm, I can smell you… my god you smell so fucking good, little one.” She smiles against your breast and kisses along your belly all the way to the small cut just above your belly button. As her lips encase the wound, she moans in delight at the taste of your blood. Her sharp fangs graze against your skin and she nips as she moves lower. 

Her dagger is now in the waist band of your underwear, teasing the fabric, slowly tearing it. As she makes it through the elastic, she puts the knife down and rips your underwear in two, tossing the fabric at your feet. As you stand bare in front of her, she stands back, a smirk adorning her face. “So beautiful…” She whispers, starting to circle your hanging body. You cross your legs, trying to cover your most intimate parts, but are quickly stopped as Wandas hand slaps your thigh. “No, keep them open. I want to see what’s mine!” She growls, smoothing her hand over the skin of your legs. 

As she stands behind you, she grabs the paddle, spinning it in her hands. “Alright, how many should we do?” She asks to no one in particular. She hums and chuckles, “How about until you bleed?” She whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe. She takes a step back and raises the paddle, swinging it against your ass, hard. You scream in agony, attempting to walk forward, only moving right back to where you were. Wanda admires the red mark on your ass, smiling as she rubs her hand against your burning skin. 

Another swat, another scream. More tears fall down your face with each and every hit from the wooden paddle, yet the fiery feeling in your gut gets stronger. It was a confusing feeling, getting aroused from being beaten. 

It felt like ages when Wanda finally stopped. Your ass was sore, bloody, and bruised. A dark black and purple spot forming on each cheek. She puts the paddle down and reaches for more rope. You silently groan at the thought of there being anymore to come. Gently, Wanda grabs your knee, wrapping the rope around it and pulling the excess rope to the hook above you. The raises your leg, slowly starting to expose your slick folds to her. She follows by securing your other leg in the same fashion. 

Now fulling spread out for her, she hums at her work. “Are you ready for the good part?” She asks.

You shake your head and look at her, “N-nothing g-g-good is going to co-come.” You stutter, your voice scratchy from the previous screaming. She sighs and shakes her head. 

“You poor, little thing. There are so many things I can make good, if only you would obey, and submit to me.” She steps closer, her hands holding your hips. 

You look down at her, whimpering in response. Your silence is enough of an answer to her, indicating you were not falling for her games just yet. She removes one hand off of your hip and looks down at your pussy. “Look how wet you are,” she says, rubbing her hand over your soaked lips. You struggle to close your legs, the rope rendering you completely un able to move. Her fingers spread your pussy open, your clit revealing its throbbing self. 

Your slick covers Wandas fingers as she dips her fingers close to your hole, smirking at your reaction. “You must be so sensitive, huh? Your ass all bruised. Is that what made you so wet?” She tilts her head up, looking for an answer. You shake your head quickly, not wanting to admit that it was the exact reason you were wet. 

To your horror, Wanda approaches the chain holding you up again. She raises it until you are much higher than before, your body swaying with her movement. Wrapping the chain around the hook to keep you where you are, she returns to you, your pussy right in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting to taste your delicious nectar all day…” She says, kissing your inner thighs softly. 

You hold your breath as she takes her first taste of you, her tongue licking a stripe right between your petals. Her tongue swirled around your clit, the bud inching to be touched. You can’t deny it, the pleasure that she is bestowing upon you is mind-shattering. The moans from your mouth make Wanda smile, her fingers coming to join her mouth. 

She sucks on your clit, her lips closing around it, and her fingers poking at your hole. You try to avoid her but it doesn’t work. As she continues to suck on your sensitive clit, two fingers slide into your pussy. You let out a soft sob, an unintended moan slipping out right after. Something inside of Wanda loves the sounds you make, her pussy feeling the same tension as yours. 

As she works her fingers in and out of your cunt, you are already close to your first orgasm and Wanda can’t wait to see it. She witnessed one while you were asleep, but she knew it was nothing like when you would be awake. Faster her fingers became, and your moans became louder as they curl inside of you, rubbing against that one good spot. 

One soft graze of her teeth against your clit was what sent you over the edge. Your legs shake, your orgasm passing through your whole body. Your mind was empty and seeing white, your chest was heaving, your pussy was throbbing, and your toes curled in pleasure. But Wanda didn’t stop. 

An hour went by. She devoured your cunt, not letting you take a break. Five orgasms later, she finally pulled away from your pussy, letting you rest. You were exhausted, your eyes barely able to stay open and your mind unable to comprehend how long you had been tied up. Wanda looked up at you, kissing and rubbing your legs to soothe you. “It’s ok, little one, its all over now.” She says with a soft smile, your head hanging in front of your arms and looking down at her. 

She walks to the wall and gently lowers you to the ground. She unties your legs, but keeps the rope around your wrists. Picking you up, she brings you to your cell again, laying down with you. She pulls your tied arms over her head, forcing you to hold her and she hums as she nuzzles into your neck. 

You lay silently, sleep taking over your system. Wanda hums a quiet lullaby, knowing deep down you loved every minute you were in that dungeon. Maybe someday she will move you out of the dungeon and into a room of your own. Or even her room. But at this moment in time, she wanted to hold you and tell you everything is going to be ok, because it will be. She will protect you and never let you go despite your desperate attempts to escape. Some days she purposely lets you escape, get halfway into the forest, and have Bucky drag you right back into your cell. 

It is laughable what effort you put into it, even though you know she will catch you Every. Single. Time.

And you accepted that. She won no matter what. You even learned that Bucky really likes his chin scratched in his wolf form, but you both have a love-hate relationship. Always calling him a dog, or a mutt, and him calling you a blood bag. 

Wanda kept her word and protected you from anything that was thrown your way. In return, you kept her full of nutrients and energy. She used you for dessert, blood and body both. You learned to love it. Everything Wanda did to you, for you, with you, was out of love. Love and of course, lust. Your blood kept her alive, and she looked forward to it after a long night of hunting. 

She deserved it. After all, she saved you from your horrible town, right?

[queer-ragnelle]

asking because this is very important to me to add to my reading list, if it exists: are there any stories where Guen and Arthur actually do love each other, even if her feelings for Lancelot make things difficult? i really like them both as characters, i like her when shes actually characterized and when Arthur actually lives up to the hype of a good, noble king who is sweet to his wife and not a dirtbag who cheats on her constantly. are the books you recommended by Sharan Newman in that vein?

Yes definitely recommend Sharan Newman’s trilogy. Not only does Arthur remain faithful to Guinevere, he’s vehemently against cheating like Merlin suggests he should. Arthur was never going to burn her at the stake either. He knew about her and Lancelot and let it be because he loved them so much. Here’s a quote from The Chessboard Queen so you get Arthur/Guinevere vibes.

Another suggestion would be Howard Pyle’s books again lol the first book The Story of King Arthur and His Knights literally has Arthur wearing a magical disguise so he can pretend to be a gardener and watch his crush Guinevere. Later he jousts as the White Knight and Leodegrance wants his daughter to marry the champion, but Guinevere says she only loves the gardener! Until at last it’s revealed Arthur, the White Knight, was the gardener!! It’s so silly she’s like “You’re stupid. I like that in a man.”

Lancelot doesn’t come in until the following book The Story of the Champions of the Round Table which opens with his origin story. (This also happens in Sharan Newman’s The Chessboard Queen, interesting book two coincidence!) Book three The Story of Launcelot and His Companions is where the events of the Knight of the Cart plays out as well as the joust at Astolat where Lancelot meets Elaine, whom he eventually marries. Elaine has Galahad unbeknownst to Lancelot while he is away, and she dies, so Lancelot doesn’t meet his son until the following book. Speaking of sons, Mordred is not Arthur’s bastard, he’s the wedlock son of Lot and Morgause just like his brothers, so Arthur’s one and only partner in the whole series is Guinevere, whereas she and Lancleot were chaste but he married Elaine after Guinevere dismissed him, but he comes back to her after. At the end in book four The Story of The Grail and The Passing of Arthur, Arthur isn’t going to burn Guinevere at the stake, she’s to have a trial, which Lancelot rescues her from, and the offense then becomes killing Gaheris and Gareth, less so the Queen herself. It’s just all around less cruel to women which is a victory.

Other suggestions don’t focus on Guinevere so they’re minor but in Blessed Bastard by Ruth P. M. Lehmann with Galahad pov he has a candid talk with Guinevere. It’s interesting in his perspective how he attempts to understand her love for two men, and although he’s unable to, he accepts it and is kind to her. Which almost never happens. A similar thing is done in The Enchanted Cup by Dorothy James Roberts, which is a Tristan/Isolde retelling, but Dinadan explains the Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot situation to Tristan to try and dissuade him from his affair with Isolde which definitely doesn’t work. It’s interesting because Dinadan says Arthur knows but he chooses to ignore it for the good of all and Tristan’s perspective is that Dinadan doesn’t understand love, it’s something beyond rationality.

Now if we were to go into movies and shows, I have a ton more suggestions. But that’s what I have for books! I love these so let me know what you think when you get to them. 🥰