xxx-cat-xxx

[dollgxtz]

Trick or...Temptation?

Word Count: 9.8k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, pet play if u squint, creampie, biting, rough sex, pet names like kitten, sweetie, penetration, cunninlingus, i wanted to make this a vampire!sylus fic so bad but I got nervous lmao but theres slight mentions of him :3

AN: Happy Halloween everyone! I sincerely hope u all enjoy this, it was super fun to write! I rushed to finish this so I could post it exactly on Halloween. Enjoy!

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?” You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

“Come oooon! It’ll be so much fun!” Tara exclaimed, trailing behind you as you both walked out of work. The day had ended early thanks to the holiday, and while most people had exciting Halloween plans, you had opted for a quiet night in with a scary movie marathon. Of course, your enthusiastic coworker had other ideas for you.

“Tara, as much as I’d love to, it’s really just not my scene, you know? Maybe next year?” you tried, hoping to dodge her invitation once again.

“You always say that!” Tara pouted, her voice pleading as she quickened her pace to walk beside you. “Please? It’ll be fun! Just a few hours, a couple of drinks, a little dancing, and we can leave! Deal? It’s a festival, for crying out loud! I don’t want to go by myself.”

You glanced at Tara, her eyes wide and shimmering with that classic puppy-dog look she always gave you when she really wanted something. You couldn’t deny she had a point. It wasn’t like you had big plans for the night—just a quiet evening with a blanket and some popcorn. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to step out for a few hours, right?

“Fine,” you finally sighed, rolling your eyes but smiling a little. “But only for a few hours, and then I’m out.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, bestie!” Tara squealed, practically bouncing in excitement. “I’ll see you later tonight! You’re going to love it!”

And that was how you found yourself here, standing in front of your mirror, dressed in a skimpy cat costume. You adjusted the white miniskirt and tugged at the black corset top, making sure everything was in place. The cat ears perched on your head and the swishing tail added a playful touch, though the whole ensemble was definitely more revealing than you were used to. You sighed, resigned to your fate.

You didn’t have to stay long, you reminded yourself. Just a few hours, and then you could slip back into your original plan of movie night...hopefully without running into too much trouble.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, typing a quick message to Tara: On my way. Hitting send, you opened your ride-share app. If you were going to be drinking tonight, it was best not to drive yourself. The car arrived faster than you expected, and you slipped into the back seat, watching the city lights blur by as you mentally prepared yourself for the night ahead.

Arriving at the event, you stepped out of the car and immediately took in the scene. The park had been transformed into a Halloween wonderland, bustling with life. String lights cast a soft, warm glow over the area, illuminating clusters of people already well into the party spirit. Bodies bumped together in rhythm with the pulsing beat of the music, and a mix of excited chatter and laughter filled the cool night air. The grass beneath your shoes was damp with evening dew, and the faint scent of autumn leaves and spiced drinks wafted through the crowd.

Everywhere you looked, Halloween-themed decorations adorned the space—carved pumpkins lined the walkways, some with goofy faces, others with intricate, eerie designs. Fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing skeletons and witch hats dangled from makeshift booths. There was an excitement in the air, palpable and contagious, though you still felt a little out of place.

Your eyes wandered toward the bar at the far end of the festival grounds. It was busy, but it was exactly what you needed. Liquid courage, you thought. If you were going to make it through the night, a drink or two would certainly help take the edge off. You made a beeline for it, weaving through the crowd, your thoughts focused on what your first drink would be—something strong, something to help you loosen up.

Just as you were about to make your escape, a high-pitched squeal cut through the music, and you barely had time to turn before you saw her—Tara, dressed in her fairy costume, wings glittering under the lights, barreling toward you at full speed.

“You’re here!!” she cried, wrapping you in an excited hug before you could even react. “Oh my God, I thought for sure you’d bailed or fallen asleep or something!”

You laughed, the sound surprising even you. “Yeah, well, you convinced me. I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” you said, shaking your head as you hugged her back, her energy instantly infectious.

Tara pulled back, her wide smile practically glowing. “Thank you soooo much for coming! I’m so excited, I can’t even—” she paused, looking you up and down, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You look amazing! That cat costume is sexy! Definitely a step up from your usual movie marathon at home, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit, this is...different,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your miniskirt. The cool night air reminded you just how short it was. But Tara was right—you didn’t do this often. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to try something new tonight.

Tara, completely unfazed by your slight discomfort, grabbed your hand with excitement. “Alright, enough chatting. Let’s get some drinks! We’re here to have fun, and the night is young!”

She pulled you toward the bar, and you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. It wasn’t your scene, but with Tara by your side, maybe the night wouldn’t be so bad after all. The thumping bass of the music, the swirl of costumes, and the faint buzz of excitement in the air already had you feeling a little lighter.

The two of you made your way through the crowd and finally approached the bar. It was busy, but not unbearable, with people lined up in various costumes, chatting, laughing, and ordering drinks. As you and Tara waited for your turn, she started rambling about all the new Halloween movies you two could watch later, once the festival was over.

“There’s this one that’s supposed to be so creepy! It’s about these haunted scarecrows that come to life—oh, and don’t even get me started on the one with the possessed doll…” Tara continued, her excitement infectious as she rattled off titles.

You nodded along, half-listening, your mind slightly wandering as you scanned the area. The lights flickered over the bar, casting an eerie glow on the bottles lined up behind the counter. The decorations were elaborate—fake cobwebs stretched across the bar shelves, and jack-o’-lanterns glowed faintly from the corners of the space. You were just starting to get lost in your thoughts when the bartender, a stunning blonde woman dressed in a witch costume, turned to you with a smile.

“Hi, can I get a—” you began, but you were abruptly cut off by a smooth, male voice behind you.

“I’ll get a Gin Fizz and two margaritas for the ladies,” the voice said with casual authority.

You froze for a moment, the sound of that voice sending a jolt down your spine. You spun around, and there he was.

Sylus.

Tall, effortlessly imposing, with his signature white hair catching the dim light and his crimson red eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, knowing glint. He wore a dark, sleek outfit that hugged his frame perfectly, making him stand out even in the crowd of costumes. His smile was just as confident and wicked as you remembered.

“Long time no see, kitten” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with amusement as he looked down at you, eyeing your costume.

Your stomach did a flip. Of all the people you could have run into tonight, Sylus was the last person you expected—or wanted—to see. You hadn’t seen him in a while, and now here he was, appearing out of nowhere like he always did, and immediately making your pulse quicken.

“Sy-I mean Skye?” you stammered, catching yourself as Tara turned around too, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of this tall, striking man. Her bright eyes went wide, and she started clapping her hands excitedly.

“Skye! I haven’t seen you since our team-building outing! How’s the fruit business?” she asked, her voice bright and friendly as she came to stand beside you, completely unaware of your racing heart.

Sylus—no, Skye—didn’t miss a beat. He flashed Tara an easy smile, looking as unruffled as ever. “Ah, the fruit business is...ripe as always,” he replied with a wink towards you, clearly enjoying the nervous look on your face.

The bartender cleared her throat, cutting through the tension. “There’s a line, folks,” she said with a polite but firm smile, nodding toward the queue of people waiting for their drinks. “Take your drinks and let the others through.”

You blinked, suddenly remembering where you were. Nervously, you reached for your margarita and handed Sylus his gin fizz, all while trying to calm the wild beating of your heart. The casual smirk on his face did nothing to help your nerves. With drinks in hand, you and Tara moved toward a quieter, empty spot at the edge of the festival, away from the bar's chaos. Sylus, of course, followed.

As soon as you settled into your spot, Sylus wasted no time, his teasing smirk never fading. His eyes roamed over your outfit—your skimpy black cat costume with the mini skirt, corset top, and cat ears—and you could practically feel the heat of his gaze.

With a predatory gleam in his eye, he sauntered over, his smirk growing more wicked by the second. “You say you don’t want me calling you kitten, and yet here you are,” he drawled, letting his gaze sweep over your costume. “Dressed as one. How cute.”

You glared at him, already feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “Zip it...” you warned, rolling your eyes at the sheer irony of it all. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but let a small giggle slip past your lips. It was absurd, really. Of course, of all the costumes you could've picked it just had to be this one.

He just chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He took a sip of his own drink, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What are you even doing here?” you finally asked, your voice a little sharper than intended. “I thought you didn’t like crowded places.”

Sylus gave a soft laugh, leaning against a nearby post with his usual air of nonchalance. “I’m not a fan of crowds,” he admitted, his gaze flickering back to the sea of people dancing and drinking. “But I happen to own this little part of Linkon.” He said it so casually, as if it were no big deal. “Figured I’d make an appearance. Keep an eye on things.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Of course he did. Sylus always had a way of showing up in places you least expected him—places you thought you could escape from him, if only for a night. But owning part of the city? That was new.

But not surprising.

Tara, who had already downed her margarita, was clearly impressed. “Woah, Skye,” she slurred slightly, her eyes wide with admiration. “The fruit vendor business must pay soooo well.”

You shot her a look, silently willing her to stop talking, but she was already giggling, oblivious to the tension between you and Sylus. He, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything.

“What can I say?” Sylus replied smoothly, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Fresh fruit is forever in demand.” His eyes met yours again, clearly enjoying the joke that only the two of you understood.

You groaned inwardly, sipping more of your margarita as you glared at Sylus. He was playing along, effortlessly weaving his cover story about being a simple fruit vendor. And yet, there he was, owning half the city and standing in front of you, looking like he could control the whole damn world if he wanted to.

Sylus raised his glass in a mock toast, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. “Happy Halloween?” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well that this night was gonna be a loooong one.

Tara, always quick to notice things, suddenly glanced at Sylus with a playful frown. “Wait a second, Skye,” she said, squinting at him, “you’re not even in costume!” She giggled, rummaging through her bag, clearly not letting him off the hook. “This is a Halloween festival, after all. You’ve gotta dress the part!”

You internally groaned, already bracing yourself for whatever Tara had up her sleeve. But of course, she wasn’t about to disappoint. With a triumphant grin, she pulled out a small plastic case from her bag and popped it open, revealing a pair of cheap, plastic vampire fangs.

“Here!” she said, holding them out to Sylus with a twinkle in her eye. “These will work perfectly. You’ve already got the whole pale, mysterious look going on. You’d make such a great vampire!”

You couldn’t help but glance at Sylus, your heart skipping a beat as you realized just how well Tara’s suggestion fit. His striking white hair, his sharp features, and those intense, crimson eyes...he really would make a disturbingly convincing vampire.

To your surprise—and mild horror—Sylus flashed a wicked grin, clearly entertained by the whole situation. “A vampire, huh?” he mused, taking the plastic fangs from Tara’s hand and inspecting them. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, glinting with that all-too-familiar mischief. “I guess I can pull that off.”

He slid the fake teeth into his mouth with an exaggerated flourish, and somehow, even with cheap plastic fangs, he managed to look both ridiculous and annoyingly attractive at the same time. He bared his new "fangs" with a cheeky grin, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“See?” Tara beamed, clapping her hands together. “I told you! You look like you’ve been doing this your whole life!”

Sylus smirked, turning his attention back to you, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone he always used to get under your skin. “I do make a rather convincing vampire, don’t I?” he said, flashing his fake fangs at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. “What do you think, kitten?”

You glared at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You’re lucky I don’t have garlic,” you muttered, sipping your drink to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Tara, oblivious to the tension between the two of you, just giggled again and raised her empty glass. “I need another drink after that! I'm gonna go get another round,” she said, already walking back toward the bar.

As soon as Tara was out of earshot, Sylus’s demeanor shifted slightly. The playful grin remained, but now, with just the two of you, there was something darker, more intense in his expression. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly much more imposing.

“You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he closed the distance between you, “I think your friend is onto something” His eyes gleamed, locking onto yours with that wicked, teasing look you knew all too well.

Before you could react, he leaned in—so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck. Your heart jumped in your chest, the sudden proximity sending a shiver down your spine. His breath was hot against your skin, teasing, as he lingered just inches from your neck, not touching you but close enough that goosebumps instantly rose along your arms.

You froze, every nerve in your body suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The scent of him, a mix of something dark and enticing, filled your senses. Your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t hide the goosebumps now crawling up your skin.

He let his breath linger for just a moment longer before his lips curled into a smirk near your ear. “You might want to watch out, kitten,” he whispered, his voice a low, teasing growl. “I could get used to this.”

Your breath hitched, and you struggled to keep your composure, your pulse racing wildly. “Sylus…” you warned, trying to sound stern, but your voice betrayed the effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly, clearly reveling in your reaction. Straightening up slightly, he didn’t step back but remained close, his crimson eyes still locked on yours. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his voice smooth and playful. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You glared at him, trying to mask the fact that your heart was still hammering in your chest. “Don’t start,” you muttered, forcing a glare, even though you could still feel the heat from where his breath had brushed your skin.

Sylus took a slow sip of his drink, his smirk never fading. “I wasn’t starting anything,” he said innocently, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “Just playing the part.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks and the pounding of your heart betrayed you. “Just don’t bite anyone,” you shot back, trying to reclaim some control over the situation.

“No promises,” Sylus said, his voice soft but dangerous, his gaze lingering on you as if you were his prey.

Tara came bouncing back over to you with two martinis, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hey! Want to dance?” she asked, already swaying to the music.

You barely hesitated, desperate for a way to escape the overwhelming tension with Sylus. “Yeah, sure,” you said, quickly taking the martini from Tara and downing a good portion of it. You could feel Sylus’s eyes on you, and when you glanced his way, he simply gave a slight nod, clearly content with watching you both from afar.

Your skin prickled under his gaze as you and Tara made your way toward the middle of the festival. The music was thumping, bodies swaying together under the dim, flickering lights. You still felt uneasy knowing Sylus was watching you, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. But as the alcohol worked its way through your system, slowly loosening your limbs and dulling the tension, you started to let yourself get lost in the music. Tara twirled around you, laughing and dancing without a care in the world, and soon enough, you found yourself smiling and moving along with her.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the warmth of the alcohol was settling into your bones, making everything seem a little hazier, a little easier. The bass pulsed through the air, the crowd a blur of costumes and laughter, and for a moment, you forgot about Sylus’s watchful eyes.

But eventually, a different need called your attention—you really had to pee.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you shouted over the music to Tara.

“I’ll come with you!” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. Stay here! I’ll be right back.”

Tara shrugged, happily returning to her dancing as you weaved your way through the crowd, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin as you stepped away from the dance floor. Your steps were a little unsteady, and as you made your way to the row of porta potties set up near the back of the festival grounds, you blinked to clear your vision. Everything seemed a little...fuzzy. The alcohol was really kicking in now, and you swore the ground felt a little wobbly under your feet.

You managed to find an open porta potty, and after handling your business, you stepped out, blinking again as the world swayed in front of you. Shit...am I really this drunk? you thought, steadying yourself against the side of the porta potty for a moment. Your vision was blurry, and everything seemed a little too bright, a little too loud.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching. For a second, you thought it was Sylus. The height was wrong, but the dark outline and the way the man moved had you second-guessing yourself. Relief almost flooded through you, but then the figure got closer, and the sour, stale scent hit your nose.

No, this definitely wasn’t Sylus.

The man was much shorter, stockier, and as he came closer, you could smell him—like sweat and cheap cologne, mixed with the stench of too much booze. Your stomach churned uncomfortably as he stepped into your personal space, his breath hot and sour as he leaned in a little too close.

“Hey there,” he slurred, his voice dripping with false charm. “You look a little lost. Why don’t you come to my car? It’s parked just over there.”

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you instinctively stepped back, trying to put some distance between you and him. “No, I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice shaky as you tried to move past him. But he stepped into your path, blocking you with an alarming quickness for someone who seemed so drunk.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone darkening, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. “It’ll be fun. I can show you a good time, little kitty.”

Panic surged through you as you tried to yank your arm away, stumbling slightly as your vision blurred again. The alcohol was making it hard to focus, and you cursed under your breath. “No, leave me alone!” you said, your voice firmer now as you tried to push past him.

But he wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, his face twisting with frustration. “I said come with me,” he growled, pulling harder.

Your pulse skyrocketed, fear taking over as you struggled to break free. Just as you were about to shout for help, a shadow loomed behind the man.

“I’d suggest you listen to her.”

That voice—it was low, cold, and unmistakable. You looked up, relief crashing through you like a wave as Sylus appeared, his tall figure practically radiating menace. The shorter man immediately let go of your arm, turning to face Sylus with a sneer, clearly trying to act tough despite the difference in size.

“And who the hell are you? I'm her boyfriend, fuck off” the man spat, puffing out his chest.

Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Is that so?” he asked, his voice low and deadly. Without another word, a cold red mist began to swirl around him, tendrils of it seeping through the air like something out of a nightmare. The temperature around you seemed to drop, and you could feel the mist growing denser, colder.

The drunken man didn’t seem to realize what was happening until it was too late. The red mist wrapped around him like a snake, tightening and choking him. His eyes bulged as he gasped for air, his grip on your arm loosening as fear took over.

Sylus didn’t stop. His eyes were locked on the man, his fury palpable as the mist constricted tighter.

The man’s face turned a sickly shade of purple as he clawed at the mist around his throat, desperately trying to break free. He gagged, his drunken bravado crumbling into pure terror.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you stepped forward, grabbing Sylus’s arm. “Stop. You’re going to kill him...there's people all around us.”

Sylus’s eyes flicked to you, still cold and angry, but there was a flicker of hesitation. You could see the struggle behind his gaze, his fury barely held in check. But slowly, the mist around the man’s throat began to dissipate. Sylus released him, letting the man fall to the ground, coughing and wheezing as he scrambled to his feet.

The man didn’t waste a second. He stumbled away, terrified, mumbling incoherently as he disappeared into the crowd, wanting nothing more than to escape the nightmare he had just experienced.

Sylus’s shoulders tensed, his body still vibrating with anger as he watched the man retreat. His breathing was heavy, and though the mist had vanished, the chill in the air remained.

You stood there, your heart still racing, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified by what had just happened. As Sylus turned toward you, you could see him trying to calm himself.

“My kitten,” he said softly, though his voice was still rough with residual anger, “is always getting herself into sticky situations.” He took a step closer, his usual smirk returning, though there was a hardness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Good thing I’m a vampire tonight. I can sniff out when she gets herself in trouble.”

You managed a shaky laugh, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. “You didn’t have to almost kill him,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure.

Sylus shrugged, his eyes softening as he looked you over, checking to make sure you were truly alright. “He deserved worse,” he said, though his tone was lighter now. “But I’ll behave. For you.”

Sylus suddenly glanced down at his watch, his expression hardening almost instantly. Without warning, he turned to you and, in a firm voice, announced, “We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confused. “What? Leaving? Why? What about Tara?”

But Sylus didn’t bother explaining. He grabbed your arm with a sense of urgency, pulling you away from the festival and weaving through the crowd. You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but with the alcohol still lingering in your system, your balance wasn’t on your side. “Hey! What about Tara?” you protested, struggling to keep up with his swift pace.

Sylus barely glanced back at you as he strode toward a sleek, black car parked near the edge of the festival grounds. “Luke and Kieran are taking her home,” he replied coolly, unlocking the car with a flick of his wrist. “Behave, and get inside.”

You planted your feet, halting in your tracks as you shook your head, confused and frustrated. “Wait—what? Why are we leaving so suddenly? I don’t—”

But Sylus wasn’t in the mood for a debate. He turned, his eyes flashing with irritation, and in one swift motion, he pushed the car door open, his grip on your arm tightening slightly as he guided you into the passenger seat. You tried to resist, squirming under his firm hold.

“Get in the car,” he sighed, clearly not in the mood to argue. “Please.”

After a bit more struggle—your alcohol-fueled frustration not making it easy—you finally huffed in defeat and let him guide you into the seat. He shut the door behind you with a sharp click before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.

You sulked in silence as he started the engine, the low hum of the car doing little to soothe your frustration. You didn’t understand why Sylus was being so forceful all of a sudden, and the abruptness of it all only added to the confusion swirling in your mind. The alcohol still clouded your thoughts, making it hard to argue, and as the car began to move, the steady rhythm of the ride lulled you into an unexpected calm.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the tension of the night, you found yourself slowly drifting off. The next thing you knew, darkness had settled around you, and your body slipped into a deep, alcohol-fueled sleep.

When you woke, you felt yourself being carried, the world around you shifting. The first thing you noticed was Sylus’s steady, strong grip beneath you, his arms holding you close as he walked. You blinked groggily, your vision clearing slightly as you realized you were no longer at the festival—or in the car.

Sylus was carrying you through the dim, industrial halls of his home in the N109 Zone. The walls were dark and sleek, bathed in a soft glow from the faint lights overhead. The cold, sterile air of the house prickled against your skin, sobering you up a little more as you processed what was happening.

A wave of frustration hit you. With your head clearer now, you reached up and pinched his cheek, your fingers digging in as you muttered, “Asshole.”

Sylus let out a soft grunt of surprise, glancing down at you with a bemused look. “Still feisty, I see,” he murmured, though there was an amused glint in his eyes. “How unfortunate that the nap didn't dull your attitude".

You scowled, still annoyed by the way he had just whisked you away without any explanation. “You dragged me away from the festival without even telling me why,” you muttered, your voice sharper now that you were more awake. “What the hell, Sylus?”

He just chuckled softly, ignoring the sting from your pinch. “You were in no state to argue,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact as he carried you further into his home. “And I had enough of babysitting you the whole night.”

“Well I didn't ask you to watch me,” you grumbled, though your body still felt heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol. You squirmed a little in his arms, trying to free yourself, but his grip on you was steady and unyielding.

“You can complain all you want, kitten,” he said with a smirk, “but you needed to get out of there. Trust me.”

You huffed, more irritated now. “Don’t call me kitten,” you muttered, glaring up at him through half-lidded eyes. It was bad enough that he always teased you with that nickname—tonight, it felt like he was deliberately rubbing salt in the wound.

Sylus glanced down at you, his smirk deepening into a mischievous grin. “Why not?” he asked, his voice soft, teasing, as his eyes traveled over your outfit. “You’re dressed like one tonight. Seems even more fitting than usual, doesn’t it?”

Sylus carried you effortlessly through the halls of his home until he reached his room. He set you down gently on the large, plush bed, its softness immediately pulling you in. The sheets felt cool against your skin as you sank into them, your body still heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol.

You watched as Sylus moved across the room, grabbing a glass of water from a nearby table and bringing it back to the nightstand beside the bed. “Drink this,” he said, his voice less teasing now, more gentle. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Go to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes but obediently took a sip, the cool water soothing your dry throat. As you placed the glass back down, you realized that the fog in your mind was starting to lift. You weren’t as drunk as you had been earlier—your head was clearer now, though you were still feeling bold enough to be a little reckless.

Sylus walked across the room, settling into a large leather chair near the window, watching you from a distance. He leaned back, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light, clearly still on edge after the events of the night.

But something stirred inside you—a spark of mischievousness born from the alcohol still lingering in your system. You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking of how he had pulled you away from the festival without warning, how he always teased you, and how you could never seem to one-up him. Maybe now was your chance.

You slid out of bed and onto all fours, quietly crawling toward him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and warning.

You didn’t answer. Instead, when you reached him, you rested your face against his legs and set your head down in his lap, rubbing your cheek against him in a way that could only be described as cat-like.

For a moment, Sylus just stared at you, processing what you were doing. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips, and he leaned forward slightly, looking down at you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Not only are you dressed like a cat,” he said, his voice laced with playful sarcasm, “but now you’ve decided to act like one too.”

You smirked to yourself, feeling triumphant in your little act of rebellion. “I’m just embracing the part,” you murmured, your voice teasing as you nuzzled your face slightly against his legs.

Sylus’s hand twitched slightly, and for a moment, you wondered if he would push you away—but he didn’t. Instead, he just watched you, his gaze sharp and curious, though there was a flicker of something darker beneath his playful expression.

“Careful, kitten,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous tone that always made your pulse race. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze, the mischief still swirling inside you. “And what if I am?” you challenged, pushing yourself just a little further, enjoying the way his body tensed beneath you.

Sylus’s crimson eyes darkened, his smirk fading slightly as he studied you more closely. There was something electric in the air between you now, the tension palpable as he weighed his next move.

“You’re bold tonight,” he said, his voice softer now, more serious. “Bolder than usual.”

You just smiled up at him, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having thrown him off balance, even if only slightly. “Maybe it’s the cat costume,” you teased, still resting your head in his lap. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing more predatory as he leaned down slightly, closing the distance between your faces. He looked at you with a gleam of amusement and hunger, his tone shifting to something deeper, more commanding.

“Since you’re feeling so bold,” he said softly, his voice dripping with a dangerous edge, “you should have no problem mewling a little for me then, hm?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the sudden shift in tone making your pulse race even faster. The way he looked at you, his gaze intense and unwavering, made your skin prickle with nervous anticipation. He wasn’t playing around anymore. The teasing had escalated, and now he was testing you, pushing you to see how far you would go.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of defiance and something else stirring within you. The tension between you two had never been more palpable, and in that moment, it felt like a line was being drawn—a challenge you weren’t sure if you wanted to accept or retreat from.

Sylus leaned back slightly, his expression amused as he watched the gears turn in your head. “What’s the matter?” he teased, though his voice was softer now, coaxing. “Cat got your tongue?"

You smirked at Sylus’s challenge, the mischievous spark in your eyes growing even brighter. Fine, you thought, two can play at that game.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the role he was teasing you about, doubling down on your boldness. You let out a soft, playful meow, pawing at his legs like a mischievous cat. The alcohol still buzzing in your system only made it easier to fully embrace the act, and you were determined to throw him off balance—if only for a moment.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at how far you were willing to take the game, but his smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened as he watched you with amusement, his crimson eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Oh, so we’re really doing this?” he murmured, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You meowed again, more dramatically this time, your hands pawing at his pants as you looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. You could see the amusement in his eyes, and you knew you had him—at least for now. Deciding to push the limits, you got even closer, deciding to rub your face against his half hard cock hidden beneath his jeans.

Seems he was more affected than he was letting on.

With a mocking grin, Sylus reached down and ran his hand gently over the top of your head, as if petting you like a real cat. “You must be very drunk,” he teased, his voice light and playful. “Acting like a kitten and now letting me pet you? I need a camera.”

But before he could pull his hand away, you leaned forward and bit him—lightly, but enough to make a point. He barely reacted before withdrawing his hand, his eyes widening with mock surprise as he looked down at you.

“Oh?,” Sylus said with a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “You even bite too? What an unpredictable little kitten I have”

You grinned up at him, feeling victorious in your rebellion, the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline making you bolder than ever. “I warned you not to underestimate me,” you teased, your eyes still locked on his, enjoying the game far more than you expected.

Sylus’s playful smirk returned, though there was an undeniable glint of something darker in his gaze. “I think you've forgotten something though” he said softly, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping lower.

"I bite back.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your grin in place, unwilling to back down now. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the playful teasing quickly evolving into something far more intense. You had started this game, and now you were both caught in it.

But for now, you weren’t ready to back down. “I think I can handle it,” you replied, your voice light but laced with challenge.

Sylus’s eyes flickered with amusement, but the edge in his gaze remained. “Is that so?”

Before you could react, Sylus stood up abruptly, his towering presence looming over you. Caught off guard, you stumbled backward, landing on your elbows. Instinctively, you began to scoot back, trying to put some distance between you and his intense gaze, but there was nowhere to go. You felt the cool sheets of the bed press against your back as you found yourself cornered, unable to escape the situation you'd playfully started.

Sylus took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on yours, predatory and amused. He enjoyed how you had pushed him, but now it seemed like the tables had turned. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race in a way that wasn’t just from fear or excitement—it was something more.

“Sylus,” you said, your voice half-teasing, half-nervous, “you’re not really going to—” But the words caught in your throat as he leaned over you, his face inches from yours, cutting off any space for escape.

You were about to plead again, but your voice faltered as he lowered himself closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Why so nervous now?” he teased, his voice low and dangerous, echoing your earlier defiance.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the intensity in his gaze rendered you speechless. Instead, all you could do was look at him, your breath catching in your throat as the air around you thickened with anticipation.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the predatory edge was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You nodded again, almost breathless. “Y-yes,” you whispered.

Without waiting another moment, Sylus’s lips were on yours. The kiss was slow at first, his hand coming up to cradle your face gently, despite the tension hanging in the air. You melted into the kiss, your mind swimming as his lips moved against yours with a mixture of tenderness and hunger. It was as if he was savoring every second.

But then his lips trailed down, leaving a hot path along your jawline, and before you knew it, he was at your neck. You shuddered, the sensation making your pulse quicken, and just as the heat spread through you, you felt a sharp sting—his teeth sinking into your skin.

You gasped, a groan escaping your lips as the bite sent a jolt of pain through your body. Your hands instinctively gripped the sheets beneath you as your body tensed, your head spinning with the mixture of pain and adrenaline. Sylus’s teeth sank in deeper for just a moment, the pressure sharp but somehow electrifying.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. His crimson eyes gleamed as he watched your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he ran his thumb over the spot on your neck where he had bitten you. “You thought I was joking?”

You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but before you could speak, Sylus leaned in close again, his breath hot against your ear. “Be still,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “You can handle it. Just like you said.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and though the bite had hurt, there was something about his voice, his presence, that made you want to give in. Despite yourself, you found your body relaxing under his touch, your breath steadying as you nodded again, almost instinctively.

Sylus smiled, his lips brushing against your neck once more. “Good girl,” he whispered before trailing soft kisses along your skin, his hands firm but gentle as they held you in place.

Before you could respond, his teeth sank into your skin again, this time in a different spot. The bite was just as sharp, if not sharper, and you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as another jolt of pain shot through you. The sting was immediate, but beneath it, there was a strange thrill, an intensity that made your heart race.

Your hands gripped the sheets even tighter as he bit down harder, holding the pressure for a few seconds longer this time. Warm tears begin to pour down your face. The sensation of his teeth against your skin left you both groaning in pain and caught in something deeper, more electric. Each mark he left felt like a brand, a reminder of just how much control he had over you in this moment.

Sylus didn’t pull back right away; instead, he lingered at your neck, sucking gently at the new mark he’d made, as if savoring the taste of your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat, your body trembling beneath him, torn between the sharp sting of the bite and the warmth that followed in its wake.

When he finally released you, he trailed slow, deliberate kisses over the fresh mark, his tongue grazing your skin in a way that made your head spin. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the possessive way his hands held you in place as if daring you to protest.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. All you could do was lay there, breathless, as the intensity of it all washed over you.

Sylus looked down at you, his gaze full of smug satisfaction as he admired the new set of marks he’d left on your neck. His thumb grazed over them gently, tracing the outlines of his bites as if claiming you in some silent, unspoken way.

“You wear my marks well,” he said softly, his voice laced with amusement. “Perhaps you should challenge me more often, kitten.”

Unable to respond, you watch as his lips makes contact with yours again, gentle but devastating. Every nerve in your body sings for him at the contact, and you feel more warm tears finally slip from your eyes to drip down between your lips and his. He pulls back to look at you, wiping those tears away and sighing in pleasure at whatever expression he finds on your face. You curl your fingers in his shirt and tug him back to you, wanting to savor this, but also wanting more, so much more.

Your tongue slips past his, and your fingers tangle into the back of his hair of their own accord. He moans, honest to god moans into your mouth at the contact, and any pretense either of you may have had about this being only a kiss simply evaporates. His mouth moves more insistently against yours, hand cradling the entire side of your face, and you finally allow your hips to push forward, finding him fully hard this time.

He suddenly leans back and pulls his shirt over his head one-handed in a smooth, practiced motion. It's the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen. If you didn't know that almost certainly mind-blowing sex is soon to follow, you'd swear that there's nothing better on this earth than watching Sylus strip his own shirt off to bare that sinful chest. 

He smirks down at you, resting one hand on your hipbone and snaking the other to the waistband of his pants, but that's more than you can take right now. You hook your legs around the back of his and pull him down, desperate, and you shudder as his clothed erection is finally brought flush against your arousal. 

"Sylus, please," you whine, trusting that he knows what you're begging for. His fingers tighten and relax on your hip as if by reflex, and you can barely think straight around your need to have him inside you. 

"You're sure?" he huffs, capturing your mouth again, and you'd laugh if you weren't fit to combust from desire. 

"God, I'm sure." You don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life, to be honest.

Sylus's lips pull up into another satisfied smirk against yours, and his fingers dig into your flesh with intent this time as he leans back again. "Maybe we should wait until you're more sober-"

"No!" you interrupt him, probably too quickly, and he quirks an eyebrow again. "Um, I mean...I'm good."

"You're good?" he asks, and fuck, it's so hard to think around this insistent, burning desire. You could sense his small hesitation and become desperate to ease his worries surrounding your state of mind.

"Yeah," you tell him again, as pointedly as you can while impatient with lust. "The nap really helped, I'm okay."

He hesitates a moment longer, and you feel like your about to combust with need.

"Sylus. I want you. All of you." You reach a hand out to cup the length of him through his pants, delighting in the narrowing in his eyes and the shudder that goes through him. A sudden thrill of confidence has you saying the filthiest thing you've ever said before you can stop yourself.

"I want you to cum inside me. Please."

You think the look in his eyes might be a little bit feral as he turns his full attention back to your body, tugging your skirt . He slips his fingers into your panties with no preamble, and he sighs appreciatively at the slick he feels there. "You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

He's going to drive you insane, and when you tell him as much, his only response is to tear the garment down your legs, toss it behind him, and press two fingers inside of you. You choke and gasp his name as he grins wickedly down at you.

"Yeah, you have." He presses deeper, thumb brushing your clit, and you can't hold back a desperate cry. 

"Sylus, please-" 

"Fuck..." His eyes trail down to where his fingers are buried, and you'd be self-conscious if you had even a single brain cell to spare that isn't consumed by pleasure. "Do you know how long I've wanted this, gorgeous? The second I saw you in that costume I wanted to tear it off".

You can only gasp and buck your hips shamelessly as he continues, murmuring encouragement and looking both as smug and as charming as he ever has. This feels so good, so unreal, his slender fingers hitting all the right spots inside you while his thumb continues rubbing lazy circles outside. You can hardly believe that the same fingers your eyes have lingered on as they hold bullets or curl around a trigger - the same hands you've seen kill countless times - are now the gentle architects of your mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Come on, that's it," Sylus coos with a particularly delicious quirk of those fingers, pulling you out of hazy memories and back to what you realize is now an imminent orgasm. Your eyes drag from the stark outline of his erection against his pants, up his chest and to his face, where you catch him biting his lip in his concentration.

"Sylus-" Your hips buck against his hand as the tension coils inside you. "I'm-" 

"I know. Go head and cum kitten," he says with another devilish grin, and god, he's going to be the end of you. 

"Sylus," you gasp again, reduced to this mindless desperation as his talented fingers work you while your release hovers just out of reach. "Please, I'm-" 

He finally takes pity on you and ducks his head to seal his mouth over your clit, and fuck, what you wouldn't give for more of that, but after all this build-up, one brush of his tongue is all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge. Both of your hands fist in his hair as you shudder under him, gasping and keening, and you feel him groan against your sensitive flesh. 

Eventually, he pulls away, though it takes you several more seconds to come back to earth. When you open your eyes, it's to find him stripped down to nothing, hovering over you again with a self-satisfied expression. 

"God," you say, still not recovered, and then, because you can't help it, your eyes drop to his cock. It's as beautiful as the rest of him, rigid and straining for you. Your core throbs again as you realize that getting you off is what got him this worked up. Fuck. 

How as that possibly going to fit?

"It'll fit, don't worry" he says, as if able to read your mind. You don't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. 

You groan and throw an arm over your eyes to resist the very real temptation to stare at Sylus's naked body for the rest of your life. You feel him move closer, dropping down onto his palms above you, and you lift your arm to watch him settle between your thighs like he's always belonged there. 

"You want to do this?" he asks softly, red eyes searching yours for one last confirmation, and you respond with a few tiny, shaky nods. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip with a quiet sigh. "Let me hear you say it, beautiful." 

"Yes, Sylus," you plead, tears burning again at the corners of your eyes, and he hums his pleasure against your lips as he lines himself up. You inhale sharply through your teeth as you feel the first breach of his cock, holding that breath in your lungs as he slowly sinks in to the hilt. Christ, he's big. 

"Breathe, kitten" he reminds you, still disarmingly gentle, though you can see the smug satisfaction plainly on his face. He braces himself on his forearms to pepper kisses along your neck and jaw, pulling out to slowly slide back in with a deep groan.

Your hands fist in his hair, and you think you might be onto something with that when his chuckle melts into a moan. He eyes lock onto yours as he buries himself as deep as he can again, and you're taken aback by the open adoration you see on his face - you can only hope your own face is mirroring that for him. 

He slides out and in again, again, slowly falling into a steady rhythm that's better than anything you've ever felt in your life. For an endless time, there's nothing else - it's just the two of you, bodies coming together in pleasure, the occasional rougher thrust making you gasp his name as he mouths yours against your skin.

Sylus's hips suddenly still and he drops his head beside yours, heavy breaths hot against your ear. You shift underneath him, relishing the feel of his length still thick inside you but needy for him to move.

"Just need a second," he pants, sounding as wrecked as you feel. "I'm not ready to be done with you yet, sweetie." 

And oh, if your heart (and your aethercore) could explode from words alone, those would do it. The most divine human being you've ever known is lying here staving off an orgasm so that he can keep fucking you. And he just called you sweetie. 

Yeah, you're totally dead and gone. 

You lie there for a few moments, matching your breaths to his and kneading your fingers into the firm planes of his back. An appreciative groan rumbles out of him, and he pulls back to slide out of you, silencing your noise of protest with a finger to your lips and a low chuckle.

"You'll get what you want," he admonishes, grasping one of your hips to give it a slight push. "Patience, kitten" 

He leans back, and you catch a glimpse of his cock, hard against the vee of his hips and glistening with your wetness. Fuck. You shift your legs apart, and he's back on you immediately, one hand digging into the flesh of your ass and the other bracing itself next to your shoulder. 

"Good girl," Sylus breathes into your ear, and you go boneless as he sheathes himself in your slick heat once more. "Good fucking girl, taking me so well." 

You're beyond being able to respond to his filthy praise with anything other than gasps and moans, but he doesn't seem to mind, taking them as encouragement to fuck you even harder and bring your bodies flush together. When his hips snap forward, driving him deep, deeper, you swear you see stars. God, this angle is otherworldly, his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with each perfect thrust. Your hands cling desperately to his biceps, feeling those mouthwatering muscles ripple as he holds you tighter. Sylus's fingers wrap gently around your neck as his teeth nip your ear, and you cry out, feeling a familiar heat and tension begin to build within you. 

"So close again?" he growls, each breath harsh as he fucks into you. "Shit...feels so fucking good." 

Yeah, you're fucking close, if the steady stream of "yes" and "please" pouring from your lips and the almost painful way you're gripping his cock is anything to go on. You might even be sobbing now, who the fuck knows. His fingers clench against the pulse jumping in your neck, and there it is-

You glance up at him, muscles taut as he thrusts, and it's over for you, even before his eyes flick up to yours as he breathes,

"Cum for me." 

Your body shakes against him as another orgasm barrels through you, and you think you might actually scream this time, which is a shame because you're sure Sylus is saying some delectable shit to you right now. He doesn't let up, cock still pounding into you relentlessly, and when you finally come down from your high, it's to find his moans coming out broken and his thrusts rougher than ever. He's close. He's right there. You're not sure what possesses you in that moment, but you reach a hand between your bodies and close your fingers gently around his balls. Your efforts are rewarded with stuttering hips and a glorious, drawn-out groan as Sylus cums hard, his face shoved roughly into your shoulder. 

You take a moment as he pants against you, the aftershocks of your own orgasm still thrumming through you, to stare at the ceiling in disbelief that this is real life. You just had sex with Sylus. The leader of Onychinus. You're desperately in love with him and he might just feel the same about you. 

When his hips finally still and he stops panting into your skin, you begin guide his face closer to yours, relishing the way he rests his full weight on top of you without thinking, dazed as he is in his own pleasure. He pulls your face toward his to capture your lips in another blistering kiss, this one unexpectedly tender after his ferocity only moments ago, and you moan softly through it at the feel of his cock still solid inside you. 

You both catch your breath against the pillows for a few moments before he whispers that he's going to pull out, and you brace yourself for that final slide of his cock. Fuck, that should not feel as good as it does, especially considering that in the same second you have to clench your thighs to keep his release inside of you. Sylus lays on his back beside you with a sigh of contentment, and you turn carefully to lie right alongside him. You slide your hand over to his, not sure why you're feeling shy about this when you just got done being thoroughly fucked by him, but you feel relieved all the same when his fingers intertwine with yours. 

Your breaths slow as you both lie quietly in the afterglow, and after a time, he turns to face you.

"I trust it goes without saying that you're welcome to stay as long as you like," he says, brushing your hair back from your face, and all of your emotions come rushing back. You love him. You love him.

"What if I never want to leave?" you whisper, and now it's spoken, now it's out there for him to do with as he will. He studies you for a long moment, and it could just be the light of the room reflecting in those red eyes, but you think you see them glistening.

"I think that could be arranged," he finally says, his voice as full of emotion as you've ever heard it, and you feel as though you're drowning in your love for this man. You swallow past the lump in your throat and throw him as playful a smile as you can manage. 

"Well, that's good, because I feel your cum slipping out of me. Might need to put more back in there" you say, emboldened by his now obvious desire for you, but still feeling bashful as you say it. Both of his eyebrows shoot up, and he laughs, a deep, indulgent sound.

"Careful," he purrs, wrapping both arms around you like a vice. "Might get me going again."

"Plenty of time for that later," you tell him, leaning forward to bury yourself in his chest again, hoping your words carry the weight of the three specific ones you're still too embarrassed to say out loud. 

"And more," he murmurs in your ear, arms tightening around you, his words sounding an awful lot like an unspoken affirmation to your unspoken vow. 

This wasn't such a bad Halloween after all.

[jeonstudios]

fontana di trevi | 01

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 7.6k

warnings: blood, needles, talking about how you euthanize cows and such? suicidal thoughts (not graphic or elaborated? very straightforward?)

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 1/2

<previous | next>

© between takes is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

It’s a freezing cold December night when you step into the dark alleyway, your thighs having gone numb under your jeans a while ago. The sun set hours ago, and the only light present is that of a few scattered streetlights. 

Your pulse quickens as you take another cautious step. Something moves further in, where the light barely reaches, and since there’s no snow yet, you hear the slight crunch of frozen fall leaves under… footsteps. From the dark, a tall figure approaches slowly in a way that would have anyone’s blood chilling.

“I have a proposition,” you state, trying to stand somewhat tall.

"A proposition?” a low voice inquires, and you have to tilt your head up to look at the face that emerges from the shadows. “I’ll fuck you, but I’m not turning you for sex.”

“That’s not what—I don’t want sex or to be turned.”

He directs his full attention to you, and in turn, you get a better glimpse of his features. He looks like a man; incredibly handsome with jet black hair, eyebrows, and eyes, but his skin is paler than anything you’ve seen, and there’s the tiniest smudge of something red tinting the corner of his mouth. Though his eyebrow is raised, he doesn’t look very entertained.

“You can have my blood. All of it, if you just take it quickly.”

He lifts his hand to slowly wipe the red from his face. The outfit he wears—a black leather jacket and black pants—looks human but is definitely too cold to wear this time of year.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t simply take it if I wanted to? Why would I need your permission?”

“I’m just saying. Take it if you want it?”

He looks at you, seemingly at least a little intrigued by the odd human in front of him. You definitely understand that most people run the other way at the sight of this big, intimidating being. 

“You realize ‘all of it’ means you’ll be dead, right?”

You nod. “Do we have a deal?”

“Regardless of if I wanted to or not, I literally just… ate, so I physically can’t. Not for another week or so.”

You feel your shoulders drop slightly, and you blink, trying to improvise a plan.

“Okay, well… Do you want to meet here in a week, then?”

At that, he tilts his head. “You want to die here, in a dirty alleyway?”

“I don’t care. So yes or no?”

“If you want me to do this, give me something in return first, okay?”

You look at him in confusion. “You’re getting my blood?”

“Who's to say your blood is even good?”

Trying not to let his words discourage you, you look around, thinking. Maybe you should’ve played harder to get? At least in the sense of giving him a hunt? You don’t want to waste any time, but he might not be your best option. 

“Fine, do you know if there are other vampires around here? How do I find them?”

It took you three weeks to even find this one, and maybe it was more luck than anything, so setting off on another search doesn’t sound too exciting. These creatures really do live in the shadows.

“No, listen. Whether your blood is delicious or not, it would certainly be helpful to have it. But…”

“But?”

“Let me stock up on it first. Meet me at my place and let me take some every week for two months and then I’ll take the rest.”

You look around again, unsure if you should just try to find someone else. Two months is not ideal; it’s too long, and you’re sure you could manage to find someone else in the meantime. 

The vampire senses your hesitation and takes a step closer.

“You want it to be quick, which means you’re scared of pain. People around here, my kind, tend to drag it out. Pain and fear equal adrenalin, which gives the blood a certain… flavor that some enjoy. Agree to my compromise, and I’ll make it quick and practically painless.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles, barely a hint of one, but it feels wicked and makes a cold shiver run down your spine. You know he’s not trustworthy, but he’s getting a lot out of the deal, and you have nothing to lose, really.

“Okay. What’s the address?”

In the middle of the day a week later, you find yourself in front of a big two-story house. It’s nice, looks pretty expensive but… like a regular house? It’s painted white and definitely not blood-red or even black. Aligning more with your expectations is how the house is partially obscured from the road by huge, towering spruces and how it seems to lie just a little bit further from the neighboring houses. There’s a thin layer of snow on the ground now, but you’re not sure whether it’ll stick.

After confirming that no, there is no door bell, you lift your fist to knock on the door. Vampires have crazy good hearing anyway, right? You’d assume so, given the fact that they’re always portrayed as super fast, super strong, super… attractive, and with super hearing, super vision, just… super all around. The mythical creatures don’t officially exist to the world, but in your little town, everyone knows they do. And they do. You found one. So if they drink blood and are super attractive—at least this one—it’s not too weird to assume there’s more truth to their pop-culture portrayal. 

You can see how the town’s vampire believers and enthusiasts shake their heads in disappointment at your relative indifference, but truth be told, you’d probably be more curious about the vampire whose home you’re about to step into if the situation was different. Or maybe you’d have some self-preservation and run the other way?

The door opens almost soundlessly, and when you look up, you meet those black, bottomless eyes. It really is his color, you think, your gaze drawn to the short-sleeve, black button-down he’s wearing, the top three buttons or so left undone. With it, he’s wearing black pants on the looser side. He looks incredibly handsome, and very effortlessly so. His hair is shiny and looks soft, and like it naturally falls into that slight side-part.

“Are you gonna come in or just stand there and ogle me?” He isn’t smiling teasingly; he just looks at you, unimpressed.

“Sorry.” 

He turns to retreat back into the house, and you’re left to enter through the open door. There are no lights on inside, and when you close the door behind you, cutting off a majority of the daylight, you start to feel like you’re truly inside a vampire’s home. Still, it’s light enough for you to follow said vampire’s back after hastily removing your coat and folding it to leave over the boots you step out of. Since you assumed he needs access to the veins in your arms, you picked out a gray t-shirt and a black zip-up hoodie that’s a little too big on you, paired with jeans. Nothing fancy—you’re not there to impress him.

With quickened steps, you catch up to him as he wordlessly leads the way into his kitchen, a place you doubt he uses much. Vampires don’t actually eat, do they? Either way, the room is clean and feels almost... sterile, despite the walnut cupboards and dark gray countertops.

On the short end of a wide, matching walnut dining table, a bunch of supplies are laid out. He gestures to one of the two chairs positioned around the corner of the table, but as you sit down, he turns to leave.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, pulling the zipper of your hoodie down and slipping one arm out. “I mean, I’m sure it can’t be that complicated in… theory, but I don’t think I can do it on myself.”

“I’m just gonna wash my hands,” he explains, and there seems to be a very slight trace of emotion in his voice and on his face that you interpret as amusement. He thinks you're dumb.

Oh. Well… does it really matter if his hands are squeaky clean or not?

Water hits the sink with a familiar sound as you focus on the table, inspecting the supplies. There’s a needle with a tube attached to it, a tourniquet, some syringes, antiseptic wipes, and a few empty blood bags. A voice in your head wonders if maybe he changed his mind and will simply take everything at this moment because those bags look pretty big, and you’re not sure you can fill them and still walk out of this place. 

The water stops, and you sit pretty and wait until he positions the other chair in front of you, a little to the side. You’ve never been a fan of needles or having your blood drawn, so you focus your eyes the other way, to a specific part of his kitchen window and the overcast outside. You hear the sound of paper and plastic ripping, and you feel his cold fingers place and tighten the tourniquet around your upper arm and feel for your veins before he wipes the area clean.

“Scared of needles?” he teases arrogantly, and you see how he reaches for the sharp object on the table.

“Bodily reaction. I can’t help it,” you explain before holding your breath and waiting for the poke.

It comes soon after; an uncomfortable but not too painful prick. With one hand, he moves some things around on the table, and you try to keep as still as possible, loathing the feeling of a needle jolting around in your vein.

“You’re not curious as to why I know how to do this stuff? Or worried that I don’t?” he wonders, releasing the tourniquet and seemingly fastening the needle to your skin with some tape.

“No. I guess it doesn’t surprise me; blood and vampires seem to go hand in hand.”

He surprises you by letting out a quiet chuckle before placing a red stress ball in your hand. “Squeeze this. I’ll be back to change the bag in a few minutes.”

Nodding, you watch him rise from his chair and leave the room.

Left to your own devices and with the filling blood bag taped to the chair’s armrest by its thin tube, you close your eyes. 

The house is entirely silent, and you have no idea where the vampire went. After he moved the stuff around on the table, you were able to count exactly three blood bags with a printed 450 ml on them. That adds up to somewhere between one and one and half liters and around 30% of your blood volume if you’ve calculated correctly. According to your brief research, a human doesn’t typically survive losing more than 40% of their blood unless given emergency medical attention. You probably won’t feel too great after today, but you most likely won’t die. You think.

Slowly, the minutes start to tick by, but you feel okay so far. You’ve got a good rhythm going for the stress ball, squeezing, holding, releasing. Squeezing, holding, releasing. The silence has your mind wandering.

“You can stop for a bit.”

The vampire’s sudden voice has your eyes flying open. He hadn’t made a single sound, returning to the kitchen. Catching your breath, you nod, keeping the ball still in your hand. You don’t look at the needle in your arm, but you see the bag full of dark red that the vampire sits down and trades for an empty one, attaching the tubes before he fastens them in the same way to the armrest. 

When he’s done, he lifts his hand, and you spot one of his fingertips covered in red. For a split second, he observes it, and then he puts the finger to his tongue. At first, it’s weird to see, and you almost want to tell him that it’s not hygienic to taste other people’s blood. That is before you remember that other people’s blood is what sustains him.

He looks to be assessing something, and suddenly, you’re worried he might not like it.

“B positive," he focuses on you, but you give him a slight, confused shrug because you have no idea what blood type you are or what it means in this context. 

“Is that… okay?”

“It’s… meh. Not the most common but also not the rarest. Most of my kind prefer A or even AB, though.”

“Oh."

Of course, your blood is substandard. You nod toward the filled bag on the table. “Will you have any use for this then?”

Truly, it would be just your luck to not even have the scary creatures, who roam the night in search of victims to drain, want your blood.

“Yeah. Doesn’t matter. I can always use it as a backup if I don’t get the chance to feed in time. Squeeze.”

Per his order, you resume squeezing. The rest of the process goes relatively smoothly, although you’ve started feeling a lot… weaker by the time the second bag is full and the vampire is about to switch it for the third. 

There’s a lot about blood and the human body that you don’t know, and you’re silently wondering what the recovery rate is and if you can really give him this much every week. Does he plan on taking less next time or has he not taken it into consideration?

“Why do you want to die?”

You blink at his bluntness, looking at his uncaring face. He obviously doesn’t care to hear the longer story, and you don’t care to tell it, so you settle for a shorter, more condensed version.

“There’s something wrong with me. I don’t belong here.”

“Didn’t taste like it.”

“Maybe not physically.”

He doesn’t dig further, but when your blood starts trickling into the third bag, the vampire stays seated. You still close your eyes, afraid that you’ll stare at his face otherwise, and he didn’t particularly seem to like that. 

You’re not sure if it’s just the blood loss or a combination of having slept poorly for the last few weeks and being in a calm, silent environment, but you’re feeling tired. Really tired. And cold. 

“Squeeze harder,” his voice instructs, void of emotion. You do your best to follow his instructions, squeezing the ball tighter even though it’s getting difficult.

“We’re done.”

You open your eyes, finding the vampire much closer than before and his fingers swiftly removing the needle from your arm.

“Okay, so… uh…” you start, finding it hard to choose words or even think of what you want to convey in the first place. “Do I come back… same time… next week?” 

“No. Make it two weeks.”

You look at him, confusion written across your features, but it’s hard to focus your eyes on his face. It’s blurry, and there are dark spots infiltrating your vision.

“I took as much as I could, and while you won’t have time to replenish everything in two weeks either, I’ll at least get more out of you than in just one week.”

He smiles, and if you had the energy and maybe (mostly) the common sense, you’d be scared by the way he truly looks so wicked. 

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

The vampire takes the stress ball from you and rises from the chair with the used supplies in his hands. You grip the armrests best you can, but your right hand slips, and you stumble a little, trying to stand. It’s so incredibly cold, and you feel dizzy, nauseous, and weak, putting your hoodie back on properly.

Very quietly, you hear him move around the kitchen, and while he hasn’t explicitly told you to leave, you’re very much assuming he wants nothing else. So on unsteady legs, you make your way back to the front door, where you grab your coat to haphazardly put it on, and you step into your boots, unable to bend down to tie them properly.

You’re able to make it to your old but trustworthy car that you parked on the street, but when you sit down in the driver’s seat and close the door behind you, you realize that you definitely can’t drive as it’s proving more and more difficult to even keep your eyes open. You can’t walk home, you have no one to come pick you up, and even if there probably is a bus stop somewhere around here, you don’t think you’d make it there. 

So with your last burst of energy, you pull the lever under the seat to push it back a little, leaving your boots on the floor as you bring your feet and knees up. Your coat finds a new purpose as a makeshift blanket, and you cover as much of your body as you can with it. Fully knowing that as you close your eyes, you might never open them again, you don’t care that much. Dying is what you want, anyway.

Surprisingly, you do open your eyes again. It’s dark when you do, and it’s so, so cold. Your heart is beating hard as it tries to circulate blood that just isn’t there anymore, and it’s with a low groan that you move, trying to reach for the phone in the pocket of your coat.

It’s seven p.m.. You met with the vampire at two p.m., and the visit took less than an hour, which means that you got into your car at maybe a bit before three, and so you’ve been passed out for four hours. It takes you a while to come to properly, and even when you do, you feel weak, groggy, and stiff. Ideally, you shouldn’t drive, but you have no other means of getting home, so you decide on a route consisting of smaller roads with lower speed limits and less traffic.

It’s no wonder you feel like you’re on death’s doorstep because when you do some further Googling on blood donation and blood volumes at home, you calculate exactly how much someone of your size would have. And you find that the vampire took 38% of that.

Three weeks later, you’re knocking on his door again. He opens it, an eyebrow raised and looking even more unimpressed than last time. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t show last week, but I was sick,” you inform, hoping he’ll accept your apology. “Didn’t think you would’ve wanted to see… that.”

“You’re right.”

That’s all he says before he turns, leaving the door open for you just like last time. Well, you take that as a sign that you’re forgiven, and so you follow him inside. 

Trying to keep up with him, you’re feeling even smaller and weaker around the tall vampire than before, and truth be told, you are. Because according to those Google searches, while it takes the body only approximately 24-48 hours to replace the blood plasma, it takes four to six weeks to replenish the red blood cells and recover fully. And that’s from having one bag of 450ml donated; you left three and it’s only been three weeks since. Essentially, the vampire is taking your blood a lot faster than you can produce it.

Like last time, you sit down on the same chair in his kitchen, but since he wasn’t expecting you, he has to retrieve the supplies from elsewhere. You remain quiet while he organizes everything, stealing a few glances at him in the meantime. This time, he’s wearing a black t-shirt and black shorts, and you’re amazed at just how… ordinary he looks. In the best way possible, of course. 

Without being too tight, the shirt does a very good job at showing off his physique: it hangs wonderfully off his shoulders and dips slightly between his pecs. It exposes the prominent veins stretching across both his arms and hands, and you wonder if vampires also ‘live’ in the way that he has a heart that pumps blood around his body. Or if he’s really ‘dead’ or ‘undead’ like some media describe them?

“What?” he questions, having caught you staring.

“You look very human,” you say quietly. “Like a college guy.”

An athletic college guy. The one who’s just a little too handsome to be exact.

The trace of amusement that flashes across his face is so faint that you’re not sure you didn’t simply imagine it. He doesn’t respond to your observation, only sitting down and reaching for your arm. His large hands feel a little warmer against your skin than you remember them doing last time, and you turn your head when he prepares the needle. There’s a pinch and then the immediate relief when he loosens the tourniquet.

“Here,” the red stress ball is placed into your hand again. Looking down briefly, you watch your own hand squeeze it, but the red fluid flowing through the transparent tube is too off-putting, and so you close your eyes again.

A minute or so passes while you keep squeezing the ball to some sort of rhythm tied to your breaths. It won’t be long. Soon, everything will be over. 

Somewhere, you lose track of time, and to regain some sense of reality, you flutter your eyelids open. Only to see the vampire stare coldly at you. You freeze.

“I thought you left,” you admit, the surprise clear in your voice.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” he explains, face still stoic.

You look at him dumbly. “No offense, but why? The point is to kill me, anyway?”

“No, it’s to take as much as possible,” he corrects you. “To a reasonable extent. And then kill you. Here, let me change the bag.”

You close your eyes once more as he switches the full bag to a new, empty one. The dizziness comes a lot quicker than it did three weeks ago, but then again, you’ve been feeling more or less weak and faint ever since that first donation.

“Okay, we’re done.”

You look at him, surprised. “Already? But you didn’t even fill the second bag fully?”

“I took too much last time, and like I said, I want to get as much out of you as possible.”

For the first time, you think you see a hint of a discreet fang when he gives you a blood-chilling smile.

The process of removing everything is quick, and before you know it, you’re putting your feet into your boots again. You feel faint, like your knees might buckle under you any second, but you don’t feel weak to the point of passing out for hours in your car; you do that when you’re home in bed instead.

Suffering from what you gather is immense anemia, you don’t have the energy to really do anything between your visits to the vampire besides lie on the couch and watch TV. You quit your retail job the Monday after finding him in that alleyway, confident (and correctly so) that you wouldn’t be able to handle really any job at all. 

Even rotting away on the couch with your eyes glued to the screen, you can barely understand what the shows are about. Your brain struggles to place the people and remember the plot lines, and you find yourself almost daydreaming instead. Though it’s mostly just flashing images of the vampire whose name you still don’t know.

If your heart wasn’t already so strained, it would beat harder for him in some kind of fear-filled attraction. He’s absolutely gorgeous—and there’s definitely something almost drawing you to him—but he’s also so, so intimidating. If the end goal wasn’t to die, you’d for sure be running for the hills and looking over your shoulder late at night.

Next time, there’s a slight smile pulling on the vampire’s lips when he opens the door.

“Still alive?”

You chuckle quietly, looking down at your boots. “Unfortunately.”

Taking off your coat reveals another simple outfit with no other purpose than granting the vampire access to your arms while keeping your freezing body warm. This time, it’s a thick, brown cardigan over a t-shirt, paired with somewhat baggy jeans.

The contrast between your clothes is almost funny. Even indoors, you’d be freezing in the half-open thin, white dress shirt he wears messily tucked into black, also thin-looking slacks. The gap in his shirt makes you want to reach out and touch his pale chest, but of course, you keep your hands to yourself.

Once again, you follow him inside, and while you don’t need him to, he guides you to the same spot in his kitchen where the stuff is all laid out. 

Sitting down, you slip your arm out of the cardigan and place it on the armrest. The vampire washes his hands and then comes to sit down in front of you, reaching for the tourniquet to position it around your bicep. With the elastic band tightened, he rips open an antiseptic wipe to clean the inside of your elbow, and then, he prepares the needle like always. 

You look away, holding your breath until the pinch comes and for a few seconds after. 

“The whole thing about vampires losing control around blood… I take it that’s just storytelling?”

“Depends,” he answers, and despite not looking at him, you just know he’s got one eyebrow raised and a hint of a cocky smile on his lips. “If we’re hungry and someone happens to bleed around us, yeah, it can be more… tempting. Also depends on what sort of blood we prefer.”

“And you don’t like mine,” you state, your foggy brain concluding it the reason he seems to not care about the vulnerable blood right in front of him.

He laughs this time, a really nice sound that has your strained heart almost skipping an important beat. “I changed my weekly feeding to Thursdays, so I’m still quite full. And your blood isn’t vile, it’s just not what I personally go crazy for.”

“Oh,” you let out, looking at him before something dawns on you. “Wait. You eat once a week only? How much do you eat then? Or… drink?”

He nods toward the bag he just secured to your arm. “Someone of my size typically only needs about two of these a week to survive and not maniacally hunt and kill, but to really thrive? Between two and three liters, so four to six bags. I usually go hunting Friday or Saturday night when most bars and pubs are full. It’s surprisingly easy to find a few drunks stumbling around who won’t even realize what happened the day after.”

“So you don’t… kill?”

“Not if we can help it. There’s been… an increase in vampires around here, and if people drop dead? No, it’s less suspicious and only a little more work to find a few victims instead of draining one dry.”

“Makes sense.”

“Mhm. I typically don’t have to beg women to come with me, either.”

Something ice cold travels through your body at that last sentence. You wonder whose blood was on his lips that night when you found him.

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this, though? You seem like you’d tell me to mind my own business.”

Even more, you can’t believe you asked.

He smiles. “I don’t know. Like I said, people will occasionally find out what I am, find me fascinating, and ask a thousand questions. I’ve always thought it to be incredibly annoying, and I’m not really supposed to tell them anything even if I wanted to—which I don’t—but it’s been… odd, not being questioned by you. At all. Almost boring, like I’m not interesting to you.”

His answer surprises you, and for a moment, you imagine teenage you, not bubbly per se but at least a bit more naive than the current version. Would she be the type to annoy him? You don’t think so. 

“Objectively, you are interesting, but I can’t believe how brave people are? If things were different, I wouldn’t have gone out looking for a vampire in the first place. And if I somehow stumbled upon you, I would’ve run the other way because you’d terrify me.”

Slowly, he smirks at your honesty. 

“I scare you?” 

You’d be lying if you claimed the cold, calculating aura around him didn’t.

You’re not sure if he has any super powers like in the movies, but honestly, he wouldn’t need to be able to lift a bus to kill you. The scariest thing about him isn’t how he could end your life in a hundred different ways either way, it’s how he could drag it out and extend your suffering before doing so. Of course, your body and instincts find him scary, but in a way, your mind… doesn’t? Then again, you’re here because your mind wants him to kill you.

“I don’t know.”

“Hm,” is all he says, his eyes falling to the blood bag. “I have to change it. Hold on.”

“Okay,” you mumble, finding it hard to concentrate. Your heart beats so hard it hurts, but at the same time, your breathing is slowing down. Closing your eyes, you feel him move stuff around.

“How are you feeling?” he suddenly asks, but it doesn’t sound like he cares too much.

“Honestly? Terrible,” you admit, keeping your eyes closed. 

You keep still when you feel his hands on your arm, but then you hear a little… rip.

“Fuck.”

Curiously, you open your tired eyes, seeing the vampire hold the empty bag up to inspect it. 

“This was the last one I had. This brand is fucking terrible quality; how do you make blood bags so weak they rip?”

“You don’t have anything else to collect it in?”

He sighs defeatedly, “No, it needs to be in these kinds of bags so I can store and freeze it properly.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll have to stock up on them and maybe take more next time.”

You nod slowly and understandingly. That will probably be the last time, then.

About a week and a half later, you find yourself on a bench downtown, your hands in the pockets of your coat to keep them warm. It’s Saturday, and on the other side of the street, a few people are standing in line to be let inside your town’s best version of a nightclub. You’re not certain what exactly brought you here, and you’re sure that if the happy, club-dressed people took the time to observe their surroundings, they’d notice you staring and look at you weirdly in turn.

“Hello?”

Registering the almost rude-sounding voice, you blink as you turn your head. It’s a guy. 

“Huh?”

His face looks skeptic, and he’s got his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. He’s not wearing a jacket or coat of any kind over his white t-shirt, so you gather he’s in the middle of a night out. Probably left a bar for a smoke and spotted you.

“I asked you what your name is? Like three times?”

He’s good looking with black hair and dark eyes, but the tone of his voice is very unattractive, and you have no interest in him whatsoever, knowing he isn’t just looking to be your friend.

“Oh. Uh…”

You don’t say it. It’s not that you don’t remember your name or that you’re making a conscious effort to deny him the information, but it’s like your thoughts are at a standstill. 

“Beat it.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. His lips didn’t move.

“And who are you?” he asks, irritation dripping from his words, and this time, his lips are moving. However, his eyes are not on you but on something behind you.

Just as you’re about to turn around, the man in front of you leaves. His steps are quick, his mission abandoned.

“What are you doing here?”

Of course. It clicks the moment the vampire comes into view, and you’re surprised you didn’t immediately recognize his deep voice. He’s wearing that same leather jacket and some black pants, an outfit still very much inappropriate for winter. Though, something about him feels… wilder, almost a little uncontained? You can’t put your finger on what exactly.

“Uh, people-watching,” you inform as he rounds the bench, sitting down next to you.

Because he’s beautiful like no other, you glance discreetly at his face. He’s so masculine, but in certain lights, you glimpse something softer. You particularly like his nose and its rounded tip. It gives him such an attractive profile, you think, gaze traveling over his features and lingering on his dark eyelashes.

“Why? Isn’t it cold as hell for you?”

“Uhm, I don’t know? And I guess?”

From looking straight ahead, he turns his head, redirecting his full attention to you. The light from the closest street lamp reflects in his dark eyes.

“Is there any truth to that whole ‘vampires are designed to lure humans in’ thing?”

He grins. “I lure you in?”

“You’re more intimidating than you are attractive, actually,” you admit earnestly, wincing a little on the inside at how it came out a bit like an insult. He’s definitely attractive, and maybe the fact that he is so attractive is part of why he’s also so intimidating. “I’m just wondering what you looked like before.”

“I’ve always looked like this,” he explains casually, once again peering out over the cold, dark street. “Vampirism doesn’t change anything besides, like, skin impurities and conditions. I would’ve shown you a picture, but there were no cameras around when I was human,” he smiles cheekily.

“Anyway, you should go home. It’s really cold and not really safe at this time either,” he encourages.

You nod, realizing that he wants to protect his backup supply. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll see you next week.”

“Mhm.”

You expect him to get up and leave, confused when five seconds pass and he hasn’t moved. The feeling seems to be mutual because he turns his head to look at you again.

“So, are you leaving or not?”

“I am.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You look away, clearing your throat a bit awkwardly and realizing that you might just have to tell him, since he doesn’t seem to be leaving before you. “I don’t think I… can. I walked here, but I think I overestimated myself.”

The vampire looks you over briefly, probably just to be sure, but you both know that your main health concerns aren’t visible. 

“Where do you live?”

“Oh, not that far. Like less than a ten minute walk, but I…”

“What’s your address?”

“124 Conch Street.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up.”

Puzzled, you follow his instructions and slowly rise to your feet. Though you’ve been sitting stranded on the bench for almost two hours, the dizziness returns the moment you stand.

But the vampire isn’t satisfied. “Get up on the bench and undo your coat up to your waist.”

This time, you give him a skeptic look.

“Just do as I say,” he holds his hand out for you.

Slowly and still confused, you take it, and with his aid, you step up onto the bench.

To your surprise, he lets go, and before you know it, he’s unzipped your coat from the bottom up to your waist, positioned himself in front of you, and grabbed your thighs. Instinctively, you place your arms around his neck as he hoists you onto his back and starts walking.

“What are you doing?” you breathe quietly.

“Taking you home in an inconspicuous way. It looks like we’re a couple, does it not?”

“Definitely an odd and unexpected couple if so, but I guess?”

“You’re a pretty girl, you know?”

Your lungs hold your breath for an extra second before slowly releasing it, and then you hum, but it’s only to actually provide him with an answer. You definitely don’t think you’re anywhere near pretty enough for someone like him. He doesn’t call you out on your vague answer.

You’re not the most common sight, couple or not, and people still watch you as you pass them. Unsure as to how to meet their curious gazes, you don’t; turning your head forward instead. When you’re so close, you inevitably catch his scent, only to find that he doesn’t smell like a whole lot. There are traces of soap, laundry detergent, and maybe a hint of cologne, but not much else. No lingering smell of sweat or anything like that.

He walks you through the city and past the alleyway where you first found him. It’s quiet, except for the muted sound of his footsteps as well as those of a man a bit ahead, evidently hurrying to get home and away from the cold.

“Are there more vampires here?” you wonder, looking around the silent street and thinking it might not be as empty as it seems. 

“Yes,” he confirms casually.

It has your brain working, and the surroundings reminding you of why you’re with him in the first place.

“How are you going to kill me?”

If he’s caught off guard by your straightforward question, he does a good job of not showing it. 

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. But I’d rather not bleed out,” you say, body aching at the mere thought. Although you’re certain there are much worse ways to go, you really don’t like the feeling of severe blood loss.

“It’s the easiest way though,” he explains. “It’s not as easy to drain a body without a heartbeat to move the blood around.”

“Are you familiar with livestock?” you ask, thinking back to what your three-year-older cousin once told you as you biked past a field of cows one summer when you were ten. “You can kill the animal and then ‘deblood’ them by hanging the body upside down and cutting their throat. The blood will drain easily. Do you have a bathtub?”

“You’re… a person though, still,” he says, and though he doesn’t falter in his steps, you can tell your words don’t sit quite right with him. “There’s no dignity in an ending like that. And don’t you care what happens to your body?”

To say you’re surprised is an understatement. You thought vampires were all bloodthirsty monsters, only biding their time until they can rip someone new apart. The messier, the better. The vampire, who’s carrying you on his back, made no effort to appear nice either. At least not at first. Now, you don’t even know.

You shrug slightly. You’re not a spiritual person, and you’ve never believed in something like an afterlife. “It’s just meat and bones. I won’t be here anymore, and no one’s going to be looking for me, anyway. There’s no use in keeping things ‘pretty.’”

He doesn’t say anything in turn, and you wonder how much about you he knows. How much about your life he realizes.

The vampire’s smooth movement lulls you further into relaxation, and you lean your head partly against your own arm, partly against him. He doesn’t say anything.

Way sooner than if you would’ve walked with your own two legs—if you would’ve made it home at all—he puts you down in front of your apartment complex. You search your pockets, locating your keys in the left one. 

“Going home now? Since you can’t enter without permission,” you joke tiredly, unlocking the front entrance with the key fob. 

The vampire raises his eyebrows. “I might as well make sure you don’t somehow trip and spill all my blood on the way to your apartment,” he smirks, grabbing the door and opening it wide without breaking eye contact. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you see or read.”

The smile he’s wearing as he makes a show out of stepping inside the building is another chilling one. You can’t say that you expected him to hit an invisible wall or anything, but for some reason, it would’ve almost felt… nice if that were the case. Considering your situation, you’re not sure why. 

The elevator is empty and waiting for you, and after getting inside, you press the button for floor two, the vampire coming to stand beside you.

“Is there anything that is true regarding vampires?” you ask quietly as if someone would hear you inside the elevator.

“Besides the fact that we drink blood?”

“Yeah. Are you like, immortal and stuff? Super old?”

He chuckles. “Kinda. I don’t think anything’s truly immortal, but we do have a longer life span, yes.”

“What about senses? Can you hear my heart beat right now?”

“Yes. It sounds like it’s about to burst through your chest.”

Yeah, because it’s strained to hell and back, trying to keep you alive even in the condition you’re in.

“And super speed, super strength and all that?”

“Mhm, although we’re not so fast we go blurry. Are you impressed?”

“I don’t know? What do you use it for? I can’t think of even one thing having those powers would improve in my life.”

“Tough crowd,” he chuckles, avoiding your question as he follows you out of the elevator. 

You understand that being physically superior is helpful when you’re a literal predator, and yeah, maybe being able to walk a tiny bit faster to work every morning would’ve saved you some time, but what else? Oh, yeah, one time, you had to throw away a jar of pickles because you simply could not get it open. Being stronger would’ve definitely helped you then. 

Reaching your door, you’re quick to unlock it and pull it open to head inside, ignoring the two envelopes lying on the floor in your hallway. The vampire stays at the door, watching as you start to remove your coat two or so steps away from him.

“Are those… bruises?”

Turning your head as you make your way to the wardrobe to put the coat away, you see the vampire looking almost worried. You look down at the skin on your arms. 

“Yeah.”

“Let me look at them,” he urges, holding his hand out.

“Why? They come with anemia; why does it matter?”

“Still, I want to see. Come over here.”

Despite looking oddly insistent, he makes no effort to actually enter your apartment.

Your eyes widen as you look at him. “You really can’t come inside without an invitation, can you?”

He sighs exasperatedly. “Technically, no, I can’t step inside unless you give me permission.”

It makes you laugh a little in wonder. “Wow.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can tell it amuses him a little too.

“Listen, I’ll be fine until we meet again and if the bruises are still there, you can look at them then. I kinda don’t actually want to invite you in, is that rude of me?”

“No, it’s not. Very reasonable, actually.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you Friday?”

He nods politely and steps back. “See you.”

You watch him leave, his footsteps sounding through the hall as you bend down to pick up the envelopes you’ve been ignoring for days. They’re probably bills, and you’ll be dead soon, so who really cares if you pay them or not?

Mindlessly, you approach the door to close it, your focus on the white paper in your hands. You put your finger under the fold to rip the first envelope open, wincing when the paper cuts through your skin instead.

Holding your finger up, you inspect the damage and the little bead of red that’s forming next to the invisible cut. You look at it, furrowing your eyebrows at how you feel like something’s… missing? A moment later, you realize what it is, and your body freezes. 

The footsteps have stopped.

It dawns on you, as you look at the blood, what the vampire was actually doing tonight and why he looked wilder than usual. Early Saturday night, lurking around the clubs until he found you and had to abandon his plans. 

He was hunting.

Your eyes widen and your heart stops as you hear it. One footstep. Then another. And another. They’re speeding up, and soon enough running toward you.

Before you’ve had a chance to shut the door, it flies wide open. Panicked, you move farther into the apartment, but you fall backward and by pure instinct, crawl back as quickly as you can.

Despite claiming that he couldn’t enter without your permission, the vampire falls to his knees, then all fours, to reach you. You’ve never seen anything as scary as the bloodthirsty creature grasping the air, trying to get you. He moves so quickly, and his hand is just about to grab your foot when it’s like… he’s held back by something. 

You're breathing heavily, trying to understand what’s happening. Why doesn’t he just move another three centimeters? He licks his lips in frustration, exposing fangs that are definitely longer than you remember. Meeting his eyes, they’re cold like never before, and he exhales angrily. He’s still reaching for you, and frozen in your spot, you look over at him, briefly wondering if his feet got stuck or something when it hits you.

He can’t step inside.

You sit there, your feet mere centimeters from his grasping hand when there’s a sound down the hall, and in a split second, the vampire seems to snap out of it. He looks at you, appearing to realize what he’s doing and somehow gaining control over himself. Looking around, he gets up, and he leaves. Quickly and without a word.

Wide-eyed and with your heart beating painfully, you remain on the floor, wondering what the hell just happened. Even when his footsteps are long gone, you’re too afraid to get up and close the door, worried that he’ll return and be able to reach you. 

You’d like a very serious word with whoever established the ‘no entering without permission’ rule but also decided that the vampires could cheat it by keeping their feet outside and crawling inside.

You sleep a little uneasy the following nights, thinking a lot. Of course, your thoughts are mostly occupied by those cold, black eyes, thirsty for your blood.

<previous | next> happy halloween <3<3

[littlelamy]

how you met

rockstar!rafe x model!reader

The pulsing bass and dim lights made it easy to get lost in the heat of the underground club. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and the kind of energy that came alive after midnight. It was the perfect place to forget… or be forgotten. Exactly what you’d needed after your friends all but forced you out tonight, insisting that life didn’t end just because you’d left your famous ex in the past.

"Look around!" one of them yelled over the music, nudging you with a sly grin. “This is exactly what you need!”

“Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of whatever drink they’d ordered for you, scanning the room with a sort of lazy detachment. You weren’t really looking to rebound with anyone here. That is, until you saw him.

He was on stage, barely ten feet away. Shirtless, tattoos splashed across his skin, he had that dark, brooding edge that made him look like he was born for a stage like this, all arrogance and mystery wrapped up in a stunning face with a jawline that could cut glass. His voice was raw, gravelly, like he was spitting out every word with a vengeance, and somehow, he had the entire crowd hooked.

Rafe Cameron.

You recognized him immediately—he’d been the face (and body) of a million indie music magazines you’d been in too, though your worlds had never actually crossed. But seeing him up close, hearing him live, felt different. You watched, your heart picking up speed with each word he growled into the mic, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room until—

He saw you.

There was a beat, maybe two, where the energy between you was so thick it was almost tangible. His gaze raked over you slowly, starting from the glossy heels that matched the clingy little dress your friends had practically begged you to wear. His eyes were heavy, hooded, and every time he looked at you, you could practically feel the heat licking at your skin. You arched a brow, pretending not to notice, barely giving him a second glance, which only seemed to make his stare even bolder.

“God, he’s looking right at you,” your friend whispered, practically squealing in excitement. You kept a cool exterior, giving Rafe the most casual of glances before looking away, leaning back to take a slow sip of your drink. His band continued their set, but he never stopped glancing in your direction, his attention flickering between the song and whatever spell you’d cast over him.

The moment they finished, you expected him to disappear backstage. Instead, Rafe practically leaped off the stage, heading straight for the bar, for you.

“Didn’t think a girl like you would ever show up in a place like this,” he drawled, voice low and teasing as he leaned an arm on the bar next to you. He smelled like sweat and the faintest hint of smoke, and somehow, it was intoxicating. Up close, he was even more gorgeous, a mix of rugged, careless appeal and a confidence that was probably earned from too many one-night stands.

“Maybe you don’t know what kind of girl I am,” you replied, shooting him a little smirk. You wanted him, yes, but the game was too fun to rush. Besides, you were still reeling from the effect he had on you. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Rafe chuckled, and there was something wicked about it, like he already knew exactly what you were doing and had every intention of breaking down your resolve. “Oh, I know. I’ve seen your face on more magazine covers than I can count. Got them all over my place, by the way.” His eyes roamed your body again, this time with no hint of shame. “But trust me, you’re even better in person.”

“You talk like you think you’ve got me all figured out,” you shot back, the smirk playing on your lips as you turned to face him. His stare was unrelenting, blue eyes devouring every inch of you, and there was no hiding the smolder in them. He’d probably perfected that look a long time ago, and it was undeniably sexy.

He leaned in, his lips brushing just past your ear. “You want me to figure you out?” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Because, baby, I’ll take all night if that’s what it takes.”

You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at his words. He was crass, unapologetic, and entirely too good at this game, but you weren’t about to let him know he’d gotten under your skin. Yet.

“Oh, please,” you replied coolly, rolling your eyes as if unaffected. “Like you could handle it.”

Rafe’s grin widened, flashing that perfect smile that made your pulse thud in your chest. “Big words for a girl playing hard to get,” he said, his hand reaching to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. He was close enough that you could see every detail of the tattoos etched along his collarbone, and you had to focus hard to keep your cool as he looked at you like you were something he was seconds away from devouring.

You arched a brow, meeting his gaze head-on. “Playing?” you echoed, feigning nonchalance. “This is just my normal.”

His laugh was a dark, husky sound, and the way his fingers brushed along your arm left a trail of heat on your skin. “If that’s the case, sweetheart, consider me hooked.”

He paused, eyes locking on yours as he closed the distance, his hand coming to rest on your waist. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, smell the scent of whiskey on his breath. You knew exactly what he wanted—and, if you were honest with yourself, you wanted it too. But you weren’t about to make it easy.

You let a long moment of silence stretch between you, your eyes flicking to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his gaze again, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Then I guess you’ll just have to work a little harder for it, won’t you?”

Rafe’s smirk softened into something that was almost a grin. “Oh, trust me, I don’t mind putting in the work.” Without another word, his lips crashed against yours, hungry, unrestrained, a kiss that held every bit of the reckless energy he had on stage. His hands held you firmly, like he was staking a claim, and the way he kissed was more than just a kiss—it was a promise, a challenge, a taunt all in one.

As you pulled away, a satisfied smirk played on your lips. Rafe was left standing there, his hand still lingering at his side as if reluctant to let go. You met his heated gaze, letting a slow, coy smile spread across your face before stepping back, savoring the way his eyes stayed locked on you, intense and unyielding.

With one last lingering glance, you turned on your heel, swaying your hips with each step, knowing full well he was watching every second. Each sway was deliberate, your heels clicking against the floor in time with the pounding bass of the music, and you didn’t look back, but you could practically feel his eyes tracing every curve.

Rafe’s husky voice rang out, half-amused, half-starved, over the music. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

You glanced back, giving him a sly wink. “Guess you’ll just have to catch up and see.”

His smirk grew, and you knew you’d just sparked something wild in him. Just the way you wanted it. And as you slipped into the crowd, you could already feel the tension simmering, ready to pull you back to him the second you both decided to stop playing games.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @dinakisser @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[mcrdvcks]

had a little thought about this variant in particular :)

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, gn!reader, though reader wears a dress and heels, light blood

---

"Patch!" Wade called out from behind, his voice cutting through the murmur of the dimly lit casino room.

Logan’s one good eye flicked up from the poker table, an eyebrow raising just a bit. "Do I know you?"

Wade grinned under his red mask, hands up like he was just there for a friendly chat. "Not yet, but you're about to." He glanced around, feigning awe at the luxury. "Nice place you've got here. Fancy suits, eye patches—very debonair."

Logan didn’t smile. "You got five seconds to get to the point."

Wade stepped closer, ignoring the glares from the other players. "Alright, here’s the pitch. I need you, big guy. Got a universe that’s falling apart, and I’m in desperate need of a certain… je ne sais quoi that only you can bring. You, Patch, could be the anchor this whole reality needs.”

Logan didn’t even blink. “You’re either insane or just plain stupid. I don’t know you, and I don’t care about your problems.”

Wade let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay, playing hard to get. Look, I didn’t want to do this in front of your… uh—” Wade gestured towards everyone at the table. “Lovely friends here. But time’s running short.”

Wade, who was crouched down to the right of Logan didn’t get to continue his rambling as he unsheathed his claws straight in his skull. Logan’s claws went back into his hand as Wade fell to the floor.

You, who had gone briefly to get a glass of champagne, stopped at the body who had just flopped onto the ground. You glanced at your dress, a nice mauve color, now with a few small spots of red at the hem.

“Honey!” You dragged out, “he got blood on my dress.”

Logan turned to look at you, finally tearing away his gaze from being front facing to you, standing holding a half-full champagne flute looking as beautiful as ever and yes, you now had blood on your dress.

Wade, who was shaking his head, clearing the fog from his mind, looked up from the floor, “hey! He got my blood on your dress. All I did was very kindly introduce myself- ”

You stepped forward, your heel digging into Wade’s arm with a squelch. Wade let out a small screech as you took another step toward Logan, one foot bare, the other still sporting your special heel with a concealed blade.

Wade groaned, twisting on the floor to look up at you. “Really? Really? First the claws, now the stiletto treatment? I thought this was a classy establishment!”

“You got blood on my dress,” you said coolly, taking another sip of your champagne as you met Logan’s gaze.

Logan’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Should’ve aimed better, bub.”

Wade managed to sit up, rubbing his head where Logan had left his mark. “This—” he gestured vaguely around, “—is exactly why I need you. That unrelenting charm, the claws, the scrappy partner who, might I say, has a very sharp sense of fashion.”

Once beside Logan’s chair, his hand went around your waist, pulling you down into his lap with a casual possessiveness. He looked up at you, a flicker of amusement in his eye. “Didn’t expect company tonight,” he murmured, his hand resting comfortably at your hip.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a slight smirk. “Didn’t expect blood on my dress tonight either,” you replied, tilting the glass toward him. “This is on you.”

Wade, still on the floor, held up a hand like he was back in school. “If I may interject, it’s technically on me. All over me, really. And your heel…which is still in my arm, by the way.”

Logan didn’t even look down. “Didn’t I tell you to scram, bub?”

Wade let out an exaggerated groan, dramatically flopping back on the floor. “Alright, fine! Just thought maybe you’d like a little…adventure through the multiverse, something different. I’ll even throw in a couple of perks—health benefits, access to all the chimichangas you can eat. You know, the important stuff.”

You laughed, settling back against Logan. “Sounds like a tempting offer, doesn’t it, hun?”

Logan’s grip on your waist tightened. “Tempting? This guy can’t keep his mouth shut long enough to get through a meal, let alone a job.”

Wade scrambled to his feet, brushing off his suit—now slightly stained with his own blood. “Hey, everyone needs a wildcard. Keeps things spicy! But fine, fine. I can take a hint. You’ve got your classy, poker-playing life here with…well,” he gestured towards you with a nod. “Guess I’ll just have to move on.”

You leaned down, giving Wade a sweet but pointed smile. “Good luck with that.”

Wade looked back and forth between the two of you, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Oh, I get it. Lovebirds, bound by fate and poker chips. Don’t mind me, I’ll just let myself out.”

With a dramatic flourish, Wade turned around, pulling a strange, glowing device from his belt. He tapped a button, and a swirling golden doorway appeared in front of him. He looked over his shoulder one last time, winking at you. “If you change your mind, Patch, you know where to find me.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Not a chance.”

As Wade stepped through the doorway, disappearing into the glowing portal, you took another sip of champagne, shaking your head. “Was he for real?”

Logan scoffed, watching the portal close with a quiet hum. “I have no idea. Don’t care to find out, either.”

The room settled, the quiet returning along with the glares of the other players, who clearly wanted nothing more than to get back to their poker game.

You gave him a look. “If you think you’re getting out of replacing this, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Logan chuckled, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’.”

[tarotwithavi]

Which Disney princess would you be and why?

Timeless reading

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave the rest!

Masterlist 🍒 Extended masterlist

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I am currently running short on funds and am unable to pay my rent, I would really appreciate some help 🙏🏻

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT 🫶🏻💞

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 1

If you were to embody a Disney princess, you'd likely resonate deeply with Mulan and Moana.

Starting with Mulan, there’s a natural connection here due to your deep respect and love for your family and culture. Just like Mulan, you feel a strong responsibility to protect and honor your family. This could mean taking on the role of looking after your father, possibly even working with him or supporting his business. You don’t see these responsibilities as burdens, but rather as an honor, much like Mulan stepping up to protect her father and family when they needed her the most. You have that same fire within you—a drive that makes you stand up for the people you care about.

Your path, like Moana’s, is not confined by societal expectations. You’re someone who values independence and is ready to challenge the limits of what others think you should be or do. You’re always learning, always growing, and you’re not content with just “following the rules.” You want to make your own path, just as Moana did when she set out on her journey across the ocean, even though her entire village expected her to stay put. There's a deep explorer within you, someone who wants to experience life beyond traditional boundaries and limitations.

One thing that truly defines you is your straightforwardness. You’re not one to dance around the point you say what you mean, directly and with confidence. You may even have a sharp or deep voice that demands respect and conveys authority. People know where they stand with you, and that honesty is something that draws others to you and gains their respect.

Your courageous nature shines through in every part of your life. You’re not afraid to take the lead, to stand up for what’s right, and to go after your goals no matter how long it may take. In many ways, you have a warrior spirit; you’re determined, ambitious, and won’t settle for anything less than what you’ve dreamed of achieving. Like Mulan on the battlefield and Moana on her journey across the sea, you face challenges head-on, fully committed to coming out victorious.

This fierce independence is a core part of who you are, and it shows in your reluctance to rely on others for help. You’ve learned, maybe from a young age, to take responsibility for your own life and decisions. It’s possible you’ve had significant responsibilities from a young age, perhaps as the eldest child or someone others depended on, which has made you resourceful and strong. Now, you’re in a place where you’re even more eager to carve your own path and live life on your terms.

Curiosity and intelligence are two of your standout traits. You’re someone who questions everything, eager to understand the world in a deep way, and you don’t just accept things at face value. This makes you a natural explorer, someone constantly learning and searching for meaning, whether it’s through intellectual pursuits, travel, or self-discovery. You might have a fire or air sign as your Sun, Moon, or Rising.

Random things that may resonate : maroon red, eldest daughter, pretty handsome, short or medium height, group of 3 friends, novels/books, glasses, round eyes, parrot, hats.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 2

If you were to embody a Disney princess, Rapunzel would be a perfect match for you. There’s something about your life journey that aligns with hers a sense of yearning for freedom, adventure, and the desire to find something truly meaningful.

From a young age, you may have felt like you were held back, perhaps by the restrictions of family or the walls of your own home. Like Rapunzel, you sensed that there was a big, exciting world beyond the limits of your surroundings, but you might not have been allowed to step out and explore on your own. It’s possible that you had strict parents or a family that wanted to keep you close and safe, but this may have also made you feel confined. You’ve always known there’s more to life and have longed for the chance to experience it firsthand.

You have many dreams and aspirations, which fuels your journey to find something truly meaningful. Some of you may be in search of your life purpose or even a career that will make you feel alive and fulfilled. There’s a deep sense within you that you’re meant for greatness, but at times, you may feel restricted by family expectations or responsibilities. This drive for something greater keeps pushing you forward, even when it feels challenging to break free from those limitations.

Just as Rapunzel treasured her hair, it seems that you also hold a deep connection to yours. Whether it’s long, well-cared-for, or something you’re known for, your hair might even reflect how you’re feeling. In times of transformation or emotional shifts, you might experiment with your hair, changing it up to mark a new beginning. It’s almost as if your hair is a symbol of your personal growth, a reflection of your resilience, and the beauty that lies within you.

You may feel a bit of a distance in your relationship with your parents or family. It’s not that there’s a lack of love; rather, there may be an invisible barrier that makes true connection challenging. Like Rapunzel, you might feel like you’re waiting for the day when you can break free of these unseen walls and find that sense of freedom and individuality. This may be why you’re drawn to finding your own path, something that defines you and allows you to be yourself without restrictions.

Creativity and spontaneity are other traits that connect you to Rapunzel. You have a spark of imagination and a playful side, someone who can turn any situation into an adventure. Whether it’s through art, ideas, or even just the way you approach life, you know how to make things vibrant and alive. This ability to bring color and joy into the world is something that makes you truly special. Your story is one of discovering yourself, breaking free from constraints, and finding a purpose that fills you with joy. Like Rapunzel, you’re on a journey to step into the world and make it your own, letting nothing hold you back. You have the courage, the creativity, and the strength to shine, and once you step out into your own light, there’s no limit to the magic you’ll create.

Random messages that may resonate: water sign, arts or art major, curly hair, autumn, Taurus, white and red dresses, blindfolded, moving away, knight in shining Armor.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 3

Like Belle, you are someone who values knowledge and understanding. You have a deep appreciation for learning and personal growth, which drives you to explore new ideas and experiences. Just as Belle is often found with her nose in a book, you, too, are likely someone who seeks wisdom and insight, eager to expand your horizons. This thirst for knowledge not only enriches your life but also sets you apart from those around you, much like Belle’s unique perspective in her village.

Your ability to work well with others suggests that you have a collaborative spirit. You understand the importance of teamwork and the power of building relationships. Whether it's through family, friends, or colleagues, you recognize that great things can be achieved when people come together. Just as Belle works with the enchanted objects in the castle, you thrive in environments where you can connect and collaborate, bringing your talents to the table to create something beautiful and meaningful.

However, your journey also includes a sense of transition and growth. You might have experienced significant changes in your life, moving away from familiar surroundings or letting go of old beliefs that no longer serve you. This willingness to embrace change is a sign of your strength. Much like Belle leaving her home for the Beast’s castle, you are open to new experiences that lead to personal transformation.

You possess a nurturing quality, reflecting the warmth and care that Belle shows to those she loves. You likely have a deep sense of empathy, wanting to uplift and support others. This makes you a source of comfort for those around you, and people naturally gravitate toward your kind heart. Just as Belle helps the Beast see the beauty within himself, you have a way of bringing out the best in others, showing them that they are worthy of love and respect.

At the same time, you may find yourself in moments of solitude or deep reflection. Just as Belle often finds solace in her own thoughts, you may cherish your alone time, using it as a way to gain insight into yourself and the world around you. This introspective side allows you to process your experiences, helping you grow into a more well-rounded individual. It’s during these quiet moments that you gain clarity and strengthen your inner resolve.

Your willingness to embrace transformation indicates that you’re not afraid to face challenges head-on. Just as Belle navigates the complexities of her relationship with the Beast, you have the courage to confront difficult situations and seek growth through them. You understand that change can be uncomfortable, but it is often necessary for evolution. This resilience speaks volumes about your character.

Family and legacy are also important themes in your life. Just as Belle values her relationship with her father, you may find that family plays a significant role in shaping who you are. You likely cherish the bonds you have with loved ones and aspire to build a life filled with love and stability. Your dedication to those you care about reflects a desire for lasting connections, much like the legacy that Belle seeks to create in her own life.

However, your journey isn’t without its challenges. Like Belle, who faces conflicts with both societal expectations and personal struggles, you might encounter obstacles that test your determination. You may find yourself in situations where you need to stand your ground and assert your beliefs, navigating conflicts with grace and understanding. Your ability to confront these struggles with poise sets you apart and showcases your inner strength.

Random things that may resonate : ponds/lakes, leadership qualities, physically attractive, lonely, transformative, fever or headaches, competition.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Touch of Sweetness 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Loki Laufeyson

Sister series to mob!Thor

Summary: you make a new friend, but that's not all. (short reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“So I thought we could go berry picking,” you suggest. “I saw it on the news. They’re going to be having a whole strawberry fest on this farm--” 

Estelle, Candy, and Jada sit at the table with you, sipping their fancy lattes as you nurse a hot chocolate. Caffeine always makes you so jumpy. Still, you could’ve got a tea and felt a little less childish. They always tend to make you feel a bit simple. Especially your sister, Jada. 

“Oh, look who just walked in,” Estelle raises her filled in brows. 

Candy cranes next to you and turns back with a gasp. You peer over your shoulder and see the large blond man as he joins the queue, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets casually. You squint as the person in front of him peeks back and moves frantically out of his way. You’re curious as the line scatters before him and he steps up to the counter without wait. 

You face the table again as the girls gape, “about the berries...” you begin. 

“Oh be quiet. You’re always talking about such stupid things,” Jada says. “What do you think he’s doing here?” 

“Well, he can go wherever he wants, can’t he?” Estelle intones. 

You don’t get the big deal. That man is huge, sure, but why are they so concerned. 

“It’s not stupid,” you argue. “We can bake after--” 

“Oh my god, grow up,” Candy barks. “Look at him...” 

You harrumph. You were nice enough to buy their drinks and once again, you’re pushed into the corner. You’re a nice person but they make you have un-nice thoughts. 

“Who cares?” You pout. 

“Whatever. Don’t be a baby because no one wants to go to a farm and get attacked by bees,” Jada snips. 

“Fine, I’ll go alone,” you stand and gather up your bag and cup. 

“Please, do.” Your sister chirps. 

“Ha, you are always so dramatic,” Candy cackles. 

You feel like crying. They’re always laughing at you. You tell your parents as much but they just come back with the same old excuse. ‘She’s your sister.’ 

Yes, well you’re an adult and so is Jada and she doesn’t need to be such a bully. You go up to the counter to hand over your used mug to the barista. 

“Thank you, it was very good,” you say. “Is it real cocoa?” 

“Um, I think so,” the girl behind the counter says. “Have a good day.” 

“You too,” you smile. Well, you don’t feel so bad now. 

You turn and head for the door. As you get there, that big blond man does too. He’s right ahead of you. And aware of you. He pulls the door inward and nods you outside. He has a bright pink box under his arm with the cafe’s logo on it. 

“Oh, thank you,” you duck your head and scurry out, sending one last look to your sister and her friends as they squint back at you. No, not at you, at that man. 

As you step outside, so does he. 

“Excuse me,” he calls after you before you can flee back home to mope. 

“Yes,” you stop and spin back so your ankles twist. 

“I suppose it’s not my place but I overheard you talking about berry picking? It sounds like a fun time and my... partner, she’s in need of distraction. Would you be able to tell me exactly where I can find this farm?” He asks. 

You’re shocked. He must have very good hearing. Or maybe you really are dramatic. 

You smile. His voice is deep and warm. Cozy, just like his beard. 

“Yes, it’s called Ulster’s Ridge,” you explain. “I’m not sure where exactly, I haven’t looked it up, but it’s all next week.” 

“Mm,” he nods thoughtfully. “It seems you don’t have anyone to go with.” 

“You... heard all that?” You look away bashfully. 

“Not very nice. Those are friends?” He wonders. 

“My sister. They’re her friends. Not mine, I guess,” you bat your lashes at the admittance stings in your eyes. “I’ll go by myself.” 

“That’s brave but if it isn’t too forward, my partner, she could use a friend. I’m not sure she’d like to be stuck with only me much longer.” He laughs lightly, “I’m afraid I can be a bit much myself.” 

“Oh, I... if she doesn’t mind, I guess,” you say. “I wouldn’t want to crash a date.” 

“Not at all,” he insists. “Might I have a name to give her? I don’t think she’d handle a ‘I met a strange woman today and chatted her up’ without more detail.” 

You giggle. He’s funny. “Sure,” you give your name. 

“Ah, lovely,” he praises. “My name is Thor. Odinson.” 

“It’s nice to meet--” you raise your hand and pause as the name strikes a familiar chord. Oh. Thor. When you pictured the infamous mafioso, you didn’t imagine a teddy bear of a man. 

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he grins and shakes your hand, his large one swallowing it up. “I promise, I’m not so vicious as they say I am. And how could anyone be so to a sweetheart like you?” 

“I... thanks, sir,” you say. 

“Thor, please. Only my men call me sir,” he squeezes and lets go of your hand. “I will see you for berry picking.” He takes his phone out. “I only need your number and I will have my lady choose a date.” 

“Oh, sure,” you accept his cell with a slight tremble. 

You bow your head as you focus on entering your number. You sense movement nearby and turn your head to the cafe window. You only realise then you’re standing right in front of your sister’s table. 

You sniff and hand the phone back with a smile, “thanks. I can’t wait.” 

“I look forward to it,” he says. He gets closer and leans in, “I know family can be tough. Don’t let your sister dull your shine, sweetness.” He winks and sidesteps you, “I hope your day gets brighter, little one.” 

“You too, Mr. Odinson,” you call after him and wave. 

“Thor,” he booms back over his shoulder as he struts away. 

You turn to look at your sister. Her and the others look gobsmacked. You smile wide and drop your hand. You don’t need them. More berries for you and your new friend. Whoever she is. 

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void _ Part 2

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 (here)

Before Jinwoo woke up from his encounter with the Architect, Ashborn showed him something else or told him something else other than the war Ashborn was in. There were moments where it was showed Ashborn with someone. 

Ashborn was in a world void of war and violence, serenity and calmness as far as the eye could see. The ruler of such a place was a misty figure that barely reached Ashborn’s chest. The misty figure would reach out a hand to Ashborn and drag him around, showing him all sorts of stuff like a child, it almost resembles Earth’s nature. 

The misty figure seemed ignorant of what Ashborn is and floated around like a ghost. If it wasn’t for the fact that this misty figure didn’t share any trait of an extracted Shadow, Jinwoo would be thought this figure was one of them. 

“Monarch of Void. You can’t keep me here forever.” Ashborn spoke in the softest tone possible.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call be ‘               ’? Aren’t we close enough for that?” The misty figure spoke, the voice all echoy and mythical as if everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “And for your information, I can keep you here forever. No one can enter my domain without my permission.”

“We aren’t close enough that you’d put me over your own safety nor I yours.” Ashborn sighed. “And the war is ongoing. Blank.”

The misty figure seemed to pout, how Jinwoo figured that he has no idea, “Now calling me that is just…. Whatever….” The figure turned away without a care, “So what if the war is ongoing, just let them fight to their heart’s content and we can take whatever’s left.”

Ashborn got up from his seat and headed to a direction, “I will not stand idly by.”

“You can’t leave! I forbid it!” The figure’s shout made the King of the Dead stop in his path. “If you leave… You’ll regret it! It’s all over!”

“What aren’t you telling me, King of Mist?”

The misty figure held back, staying silent. 

“You know you can’t always stay like this, yes?” Ashborn questioned, he continued without looking back. “You’re strong but you choose to hide it and lend others your strength. You know to side with the strong and aid them in return for security and safety. But what if, one day, you found someone to side with no matter their strength? And your former clients come back to bite?”

You stayed silent but muttered, “There won’t be a day. I will always prioritize myself and my survivability.”

Ashborn chuckled, “You say that now, but you never know the future. We, Monarchs and Rulers, have been here since the beginning. There can always be change. Monarch of Void.”

“...”

“There will be a time where you have to pick a side and I mean your priority won’t be just yourself.” Ashborn spoke in a lecturing manner. “Remember well, if they can’t have what they want, they would rather no one else has it.”

With a wave of a hand, a vortex opened before Ashborn. “I’ll… Keep it in mind…” The figure’s voice seemed to have cracked, “You may leave… King of the Dead.”

Then the memory played back to the war and Ashborn’s betrayal. The words of that misty figure rang in Jinwoo’s mind the moment he in Ashborn’s form was impaled. Jinwoo deduced, that misty figure already knew about the betrayal and tried to keep Ashborn from getting hurt but it wasn’t enough. That mysterious figure was the Monarch of Void and King of Mist, a master of spatial magic. 

“You’re the King of Mist, Blank, aren’t you?” Jinwoo questioned. 

“You have no right to call me that…” You hummed, “Not unless you’re Ashborn. Which you don’t appear to be.” Your eyes glowed when you stared at him, “You have a great Shadow Army and great abilities, but you’re not Ashborn. Vessel.”

Jinwoo crossed his arms, this was a bad spot to begin with. It was obvious you held nothing but annoyance towards him and maybe impatience since you kept calling him ‘Vessel’ or ask when Ashborn was going to appear. Meanwhile, he didn’t like you too, you are a Monarch and the cause of Chairman Go’s death. The barrier around his office was your work and you were there when Gunhee died, he even protected you, for some unknown reason. 

He prevented you from leaving through whatever gate that Monarch of Frost left through and thus you were pinned to the wall. Yet, if memory serves correctly, you have a misty form that could escape anytime. The question was why didn’t or haven’t you retaliate even when you were in pain?

“I’ll give you protection.” Jinwoo tried to bargain as he recalled what little information the memory flashback from the Double Dungeon gave him. “In exchange, you stay by my side.”

Your eyes blinked twice and glanced over to the daggers impaled into your vessel’s flesh. You have taken over this body completely so you do feel pain and the blood lost will be fatal. “Whatever you’re doing now is contradicting your words, Ashborn’s vessel.”

His eye twitched at the name, “Call me Jinwoo. Or Hunter Sung, even.” He thought for a second if he should let you go, but if you wanted to escape, you would have. So he summoned back his daggers and made them disappear. He took out a healing potion from his System’s store and handed it to you. “Now will you believe me and agree to my terms?”

Hesitantly, you took the potion and inspected it before drinking it down in one gulp. Within seconds of its consumption, you felt refreshed and energized that you let out a hummed moan. You exhaled and relaxed yourself, it was a familiar feeling. Perhaps it was because Jinwoo was Ashborn’s vessel that’s why you could be this way with him. “Logically speaking, I should be your enemy, wouldn’t it be… Beneficial for you to cut down the numbers?”

“You’re knowledgeable of what I want and need to know, so it’s better for me to keep you by my side.” Jinwoo answered easily, it was the perfect cover story until he could sort out his thoughts regarding you. “And I know you can make your targets more powerful.” Ever since his eyes first laid on your misty form in Ashborn/his memories, he wanted to keep you by his side. “I saw Ashborn’s memories.”

Jinwoo noticed the visible flinch and frozen state of your form when he told you that information. You appeared puzzled, your eyebrows furrowed together and your eyes looked down in deep thought, even your lips were pressed together. “There’s no way Ashborn would… He was serious? A successor…? Not a vessel?”

He couldn’t understand the phases you’d mumble from time to time. What he does know was that you were too fixiated with Ashborn. While he was grateful for this otherworldly being for giving him all this power and the opportunity to meet you, he didn’t like how you were this concerned with Ashborn when he was in front of you. 

Jinwoo flinched as he turned around, his expression that of confusion. Why was he having such thoughts? What’s it matter what you were concerned with so long as you’d be making him stronger and giving him more power to protect his loved ones? Plus the protection he offered you, was it because it was a leverage for you to stay simply because you’d be targetted by the other Monarchs? Or was there more to his own words?

“Fine, I’ll take your offer.” Your words snapped Jinwoo out of his thoughts. You waited until Jinwoo turned around and composed himself for whatever reason you didn’t care for. As long as you’re next to this Jinwoo, Ashborn’s vessel and maybe successor, you have a chance of atoning for what you did to Ashborn. Perhaps a chance to see Ashborn even for a while. 

“Great. Cool.” Jinwoo nodded. He controlled the urge to smile or raffling your hair that looked misty and soft. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, “So, do you have a place to stay, or do you stay in some dimensional crack?”

“I have an apartment. There’s no need to worry.”

There goes his idea to have you close monitor you in close range. There was another idea… “I’ll send some Shadows on you. I can’t have you warning the other Monarchs or betraying me.”

You eyed as some Shadows moved from Jinwoo’s into yours, feeling the added weight on your form and the chills. It was a familiar feelings. Jinwoo does remind you of Ashborn but different. “Betrayal would suggest that we are close, friends even, in your human terms. So I believe the phase ‘stabbing you in the back’ would be more fitting.”

Jinwoo shrugged while internally fuming, “The idea is not to have you be a disadvantage to me or cause one.” His eyes glowed and bloodlust was released, “That understood?”

As hard as it was, you stood your ground. You laughed at yourself mentally. An enemy is still an enemy. This human was picked by Ashborn himself, so you shouldn’t have underestimate him. Even more so when he is going to be the successor instead of a mere vessel. Shamefully, you bowed your head in the form of a bow of submission. “Understood.”

Note: I've decided to continue this and turn it into a series. There's more parts to come and it will be heavy manhwa focus, plus some scenes and events will be moved around. Do join me on this journey!

Also. Happy Halloween!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: 

@o-qi-shisme @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah

[honeyxbee]

Sit On My Face

Baji x fem!reader

Day 30 — Face sitting TW: NSFW, Face sitting, oral(f receiving) words: 360

You can’t remember the last time you felt so nervous. 

“Baji…are you sure this is a good idea?” You murmur uncertainly, picking at the cuticles of your nails as you chew on your bottom lip. 

“Hm? What do you mean?” He asks from where he’s sitting on the side of your shared bed, not looking up from the drawer he’s rummaging through. 

“I mean..” you start uncertainly, pausing for a moment to find the right words. “What if you don’t like it?”

Baji glances over at you, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t like it…?” He murmurs. Then he laughs, shaking his head. “I think that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says, placing his hair tie between his teeth so both of his hands are free to gather up his hair. It only takes him a moment to tie his hair back and then lies down on the bed. “Of course I’m going to like it. Now c’mere.” 

You hesitate for a few seconds, but slowly make your way over to him. He tugs at your bottoms, and you soon discard them along with your underwear. His hands quickly find your hips and he pulls you onto the bed, positioning you so you’re hovering above his head. “Fuck..you look great,” he murmurs in a gravelly murmur, one of his fingers trailing down your glistening slit. 

“Baji, maybe I should-“ you begin, but cut yourself off with a small gasp as he suddenly tugs your body down, his mouth immediately beginning to work against your core. 

“Mmm..no,” he mumbles, his voice muffled between your thighs. “You just need to stay right there and let me worship your pretty cunt.” 

His tongue rubs tight little circles into your clit, making you moan softly as your hips instinctively buck against his face. “Oh..fuck, Baji,” you moan. 

He hums, the vibration sending a delicious shiver up your spine. One of his hands move up to play with your clit as his tongue shifts its attention to pushing inside you. 

And the only thing you can think of is why the hell it took you so long to agree to this, in the first place. 

[solar4seekstron]

D-16 and Orion Pax x Cybertronian!Reader OneShot: Besties

Just thought this would be a cute scenario where Y/N gets caught in Orions and Ds little fights they have daily as they wait on the train. The two sort of fight over them and at the end they all just became friends. Sorry if you guys don’t like much detail it’s just something I enjoy doing.

TW/Tags: Non really, Orion is a silly bean that must be protected, D is a sexy mf, yes he’s my fav sue me, Y/N tried their best to help out and gets new besties that’ll totally not lead to angst in the future

You were a regular miner like Orion and D. Although you met D first when on the train. You two didn’t talk until Orion landed on the train. Certainly making an entrance to not be late. He was able to make it in before the doors closed. D at that moment was trying to ignore Orion as he looked the other way while he leaned on the mining carts. Orion then looked around and noticed you. You were just standing there not really paying too much attention.

He then scoot to next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders as his other cervo rests on his hip. He whispered to you “Play along.” You barely have time to nod as he then speaks a bit higher. (Mind you guys are on the other side of the mining cart of D.

”Guess I’ll have to Chat with my. New. Best. Friend. Isn’t that right friend?” He says with a grin as he glances at D. D was still looking forward as he continued to have a neutral face on with his eyes narrowed. “Maybe he doesn’t care?” This is the first time the two heard you spoke. You sounded so quiet and soft. At the same time your voice can be encouraging and strong bringing comfort. Orion was defiantly taken aback as he glanced at you. Ds face showed to be a bit surprised as he glanced at you too. Until reverting back to the face he had before.

”Ah, but you see a true best friend would care and since he doesn’t truly care seeing my arms around another then- *he pretends he’s crying a bit as he makes sniffling sounds* he was never my best friend in the first place…….” You and Orion looked at D. Who just rolled his optics and looked the opposite way of you guys.

”Wow he’s really mad this time.” Jazz piped in. Orion gave him a look telling him to shut up. Leaving jazz to chuckle.

You then get an idea. “Hey Orion there’s that race tomorrow. Would you like to go together?” Orion got excited. “Sure I’d LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooove to go with you ah-“ “Y/N” “Y/N!” D only continued to ignore him. Though his optics did twitch a bit. Trying to stay strong.

You think for a moment “Yeah it’ll be great when it’s just true best friends going and no little….hating glitches.” You whisper loud that last part. Orion had the biggest grin on his face as he tried to hide his laughter. You did the same as you hid your head in his shoulder and his other cervo now on his knee. You two can be heard trying to hide your laughter.

D still looked away but now was a lot more ticked off as he just looked more angry. You two did notice based on his small movements and descide to lean bit over the cart as you both loudly whisper at the same time.

“Race”

He lost it. “Oh for Primus sake!” He stomped over around the cart. Both you and Orion backs against the window of the train. He then was at first facing Orion who had the biggest grin on his face for a moment. But then D turned to you and grabbed you by your waist. He put you over his shoulder as he glared at Orion who was confused. Walked back to his spot on the other side of the cart. Setting you down next to him and his cervo on your hip as you stood there confused. Orion had a surprised face as his cervos clutched on the cart. D was facing forward with a nutural but with a bit of angry look this time. You looked at Orion and shrugged. D pulled you closer his other arm now on the cart as he leaned on it.

Orion was so mad as he crossed his arms and looked down. You thought for a moment, then comes with an idea. “Why not the three of us go?” D side eyed you as Orion does the same. “….Please?” You asked as he D and Orion then looked at each other.

”……….Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine” The two say at the same time. “But I wont like it!” The two say at the same time again. You let out a giggle as you crossed your arms. You defiantly made new friends with the wonder boys today.

A short one shot…….I have done it my children…..A short one shot…..Hope y’all enjoyed!!! As always requests are open in the DMs.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || SPECIAL SHORT STORY ||

paring(s) -> ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> SUGGETIVE note -> HAPPY HALLOWEEN !!

y/n’s perspective

“I really wonder how they’re older than I am,” Jongho said as I laughed. San and Wooyoung were arguing about what I should dress for Halloween, which was a bit silly since they fought against putting cat ears or fox ears on my head. 

Yeosang just smiled at their stupid behavior… mainly with evil intent because he and Seonghwa already agreed on my outfit and had it in their room away from the two fighting. 

“y/n-nie why not a dog–” “SHUT UP YOU OVERGROWN WOLF!” Woosan yelled at Mingi, who, at the sudden shout and growls, hid behind Yunho who only laughed at the sight.

“Why does it matter anyway? The two of you have the matching couple outfit” Yunho pointed out and the two glared at him. “Aren’t you going as a spider?” San said and Wooyoung laughed. “What a pathetic outfit–” “y/n! They're mean!” Yunho yelled while now going towards me on the couch hugging my waist and placing his head on my lap. 

“Let them handle their immaturity themselves,” Seonghwa added as Hongjoong laughed beside him. The only ones who knew about the Halloween outfit were the two tigers and Mastermind doberman. 

“y/n I’m your first hybrid–” “I knew her longer!” The two argued and I sighed. While looking at the trio who only looked away from me wanting to enjoy their fight more. 

“You like my costume right?” Yunho pouted and I smiled. He was going to be dressed as spiderman. In a normal outfit with the one piece suit under the clothes to reveal in a dramatic fashion. “Of course I do!” I said and he smiled and wagged his tail. 

“I want to dress as Spiderman!” Yunho came over to yell happily. “Oh?” I asked knowing where this was going… Since he got into video games he’s also gotten into comics, especially Spiderman comics. It was… cute seeing the big golden retriever wag his tail happily while reading a comic or even watching anything Spiderman related in front of the TV.  “But I thought we were gonna do a matching outfit!” Mingi asked, pouting at the older canine hybrid who signed at his friend’s distress. “You can be venomous?” he asked and Mingi scoffed. “That stupid alien, no thanks” he pouted and Yunho really really really wanted to be dressed as the superhero. “Mingi… you don’t have to match with Yunho? You can be anything you want that maybe Yunho wouldn't dress as anyway?” I asked and his mind went blank. “I don’t know! I just know I would rather have Jongho threaten me than be dressed as a stupid alien” he said and I laughed. For some reason… his irrational fear from Jongho yelling at him that one time traumatized him for life. “Oh! Let me and Yeosang choose!” Yunho said and he looked at his friend skeptical.  “Don’t dress me stupid?” “I promise!

Mingi… Well, his outfit did end up being picked by Yeosang and Yunho… While Yeosang liked to tease the wolf… Yunho was absolutely serious about what they ended up choosing. Yeosang laughed at the princess outfit he chose… but Yunho told me to buy it happily and with his eyes sparkling that I couldn’t say no.  So I said to myself I'd take Mingi to choose his outfit instead but I didn’t expect his reaction to simply smile softly at Yunho and say it was perfect. Truthfully… When Yunho pulled it out everyone was shocked he was being serious and even laughed until Mingi spoke up and said he loved it when everyone then had to pretend they never thought of it as a joke.  So Mingi was gonna be a pink princess with a tiara and everything for Halloween with his canine best friend as spiderman… how truly opposites they were. 

“y/nnie! y/nnie! I wanna dress up with Sannie!” Woyoung yelled excitedly when he heard we were celebrating this year. He grinned and looked at so many costumes while he simply let him choose what they would be. Until he found something… Harry potter. While it was now fall Harry potter was now back in season in which he and San binged it all.  And then… they found sorting quizzes… “HOW THE HELL ARE YOU A SLYTHERIN?!” Wooyoung yelled when he saw the words Slythern in the sorting quiz that San took. He was sure he would’ve been a Hufflepuff but no… he made the panther take so many quizzes until each time it was Slytherin.  Wooyoung of course was a Gryffindor.  So the two were dressing up as mages… but for some reason when it came to asking me what I would wear, I was gonna tell them Yeosang and Seonghwa said they have an outfit for me… that they got too excited and cut me off saying I should be a hybrid this year. Which I thought of as dehumanizing at first but the two were so excited I figured out it was primal for them… it's like when San put me in Wooyoung’s collar that one time. They wanted to see in a… different way. 

“Halloween? I hate the holiday” Hongjoong said when he saw the Halloween decorations Wooyoung mass ordered. “Hmm? Is it because of the…” I trailed and he nodded. I was gonna say he didn’t have to celebrate when Seonghwa came into the living room where he also saw the decorations. “Oh, are we celebrating? Are we also dressing up?” he asked, actually excited with his tail swishing behind him. “Huh? Oh, Wooyoung and San so far have taken the intuitive approach and ordered their outfits already, while I know Yuno and Mingi are thinking about theirs "I said and Soenghwa nodded while looking at Hongjoong.  “Should we dress up? Maybe we can match?” he asked his fellow tiger who chuckled and reluctantly agreed. “Ok, why not?” he asked as I was confused at his sudden acceptance. “If it makes you uncomfortable–” “It's fine really… the circus can ruin everything about my life,” he said and I smiled at his sudden response.  “Circus? Hmm… we can even dress up as clowns” he laughed and I was shocked he said that while even Hongjoong laughed. “I’d want to be something scarier than a clown”  he suggested so why did we end with their suggestions…  Hongjoong wanted to be a pirate of all things which also wasn't scary like he said… while Seonghwa, I think he’s been online too much and showed me the sudden phenomenon of hot men behind the Ghost Face mask and wanting to be Ghost Face… I’d be lying if I didn’t find it a bit attractive. 

“Yeosang said that I’m like Gloomy Bear and that I should dress up as him?” Jongho said and I didn’t want to laugh. I really didn’t… but Yeosnag hex to have been joking when he suddenly said that.  Then again… he is a bear hybrid with an obsession with fruit. While gloomy is a domesticated bear with a love for pomegranates.  “It's a pink bear Jongho,” I said and he scoffed. “So he was making fun of me again,” he said but signed and huffed. “I guess I'll do it… I have nothing else to dress up as and I don’t wanna be a vampire like Seonghwa-hyung was suggesting” he said and I smiled.  He respected Yeosang the most… so he decided on doing hybrid safe fur paint while simply being gonna wear white clothing with a blood platter, a simple outfit, and effortless. 

“How did you get Seonghwa to agree to you doing this?” I asked and Yeosang smirked. He wanted to be a wolf… while he was a canine hybrid he wanted to be dressed as the Big Bad Wolf. In simple black clothing while adding gray spray paint to his ears and tail with a pink bonnet on his head. It was cute when you didn't see his face… which he was gonna add fake blood on his canine teeth and face while wanting to dress me up as Red Riding Hood.  Seonghwa took charge with Yeosang to find me an outfit while he suggested something sexier. Yeosang also liked the primal aspect of it and bribed Seonghwa with something he still won’t tell me.  All to be matching with me as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[spideysbruh]

Times Timothée was Supposed to Propose... and the One Time he Did

Warnings- cursing, suggestive moments but nothing explicit, stuff is implied though.

a/n- thought that scene from the office was cute and j miss writing (send recs pls) so here we go!

~

“You should move in with me.” He said softly as he slowly traced along her arm. She chuckled and looked up at him.

They’re in her apartment, watching a movie after a pretty intense lovemaking session. They were both still pretty sweaty, Timothées hair was matted and kind of stuck to his forehead, and hers was stuck to her bare back.

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes, smirking up at him.

“I'm serious! Move in with me, why not?” He said, more determined this time, moving his face into her hair, kissing her head lightly.

She giggled and sat up, maneuvering out of his arms, “I- Well, I always said I wouldn’t move in with anyone unless we were engaged…” She said awkwardly, finally meeting his eyes.

He took her words in for a moment and raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t I propose already?”

She jokingly stops to think for a moment, “Mmmm don’t think so? Unless,” She looks at her ring finger with no ring on it, “Nope, you didn’t.” She laughs as he wraps his arms around her again.

“Get ready, babe. It’s coming,” he said, making her laugh, but he was completely serious.

The truth was that he already had her ring, he got it right after their one year anniversary and held onto it for another two years because he knew one year was maybe just a little too soon. He carried it pretty much everywhere he went, waiting for the perfect moment.

“Okay, Timmy. Sure.” She teases, but can’t help but think about how great it would be to be engaged to him, to live with him, to marry him, to just share a life with him. She wants it all and she wants it with him whenever he’s ready.

The Afterparty

After that brief conversation in her apartment, she would get butterflies every time they went out on a date or even while they just walked around, thinking this was definitely it, he's gonna propose. But for real, this party would actually be the perfect place to do it.

He had just won another Spirit Award, he was elated and extremely touchy with her. He couldn’t stop kissing her or holding onto her hand wherever they went. When she walked somewhere, he was right beside her.

“I'm so happy, baby.” He smiled as they slowly danced around the floor. Other celebrities surrounded them, most of them drunk and celebrating- or not- their wins.

She grinned and kissed him lightly, “Me too. You deserve it... You deserve everything you can possibly think of.”

He laughs, “I should be saying that to you. Because it's true." He says and kisses her again. "I'm going to love you a long long time, Y/n/n."

She grins and rests her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift plays over the speakers and she feels like she's in a movie, in the scene where the two main characters realize they actually love each other. Except for her, she knows she loves him entirely, and he definitely loves her.

“Hey, remember our first date?” He quietly asks, she looks up at him and nods.

“Of course I do,” She smiles, “Why?”

Timothée shrugs, “I dunno, it just… came into my head right now.” He laughs lightly, “We were so young, had no idea what was in store for us… we stayed by each others side.”

She laughs, “A lot happened in like, four years, huh?”

Timothée looks at her with an intense gaze, his eyes locked on hers. She hadn't seen this look before, nonetheless it gave her butterflies.

“I love you, y/n.”

Oh my god, he's gonna do it.

He removes his hand from hers and she swallows hard, waiting for him to pull out the little velvet- or not. it doesn't have to be velvet, she doesn't care haha- box and…

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as the last few strings of the song play.

“I love you, too, Timothée.”

He smiles at her when suddenly the mood shifts as a loud, mood killer of a song plays next. The crowd gets loud as they all start cheering.

He separates from her and asks if she wants something to drink, to which she agrees. As he turns around, she frowns and curses the dj.

What the fuck?!

Lazy day

After the party, she was in low spirits for a week or so, she thought about how she could've been engaged already. She could’ve been moving in with Timothée right now.

She was watching ‘When Harry Met Sally’, sadly munching on cookies. Timothée was halfway across the world filming his newest project. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly two months and it was really getting to her. She missed him and the goofy comments he made when they watched movies together, how he would always pull her to lay on him and “sneakily” sneak his hand into whatever snack she was eating.

She also missed being able to just meet up with him at their favorite cafe or go on late night walks where they had conversations about nothing and everything at the same time.

Right towards the end of the movie, when Harry realizes he loves Sally and is running across New York City to confess his love for her, her phone rings.

She groans and looks at the screen, immediately smiling as she sees that it’s Timothée calling. She picks it up, “Hi baby! Isn’t it hella early over there?”

“Yeah, I have an early morning so I figured I’d call my favorite person ever.”

“Aw, did Kudi not answer?” She joked, playing with the strings on her joggers.

He laughed, which still made her heart skip a beat, “Exactly, so I called you instead.”

“You’re hilarious" she giggles, and after a few moments of silence she says, "I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. More than anything.”

“Yeah? How much do you miss me?” She suggestively asks, slowly moving down to lay on the couch.

It’s been a while.

Timothée is quiet for several seconds before he speaks, “So much, baby.” He says lowly and she hears some shuffling on his end, “What are you doing?”

She blushes, quickly pausing the movie before putting her free hand down her pants, “Hmmm, what do you think I’m doing, Timmy?” She smirks, knowing what the nickname does to him.

“Fuckkkk, you’re naughty.” He groans.

“I’m not,” she mumbles, “I just miss my boyfriend is all.”

“Mhm.”

They’re suddenly rudely interrupted by a knock at her door, “Ugh, god damn it. Someone’s knocking.” She quietly says, hoping whoever it is will just leave.

“It's okay my lovely, I can wait. Go check who it is.”

“You can wait, but I don't think I can wait. I'm literally fucking soaked.” She groaned.

“Mmm, patience is a virtue, my love.”

“Fuck you and your virtues.” She mumbles as she gets up, hearing him chuckle on the other end, looking through the peephole. She sees her boyfriends huge grin and his slightly oversized hoodie, and the door is open before she even takes her next breath.

“No fucking way!” She squeals as she tackles him to the other side of the hallway with kisses.

“Hi mon chéri, I missed you so much.” He grins, kissing her again. He wraps his arms around her entirely, like he's trying to mold their bodies into one.

He guides her back into her apartment backwards, shutting the door behind them, “Now where were we, huh?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively as she giggles.

“Hmmm I don't remember, you might have to remind me.” She smirks, her hands tracing along his torso.

“I think I can do that.” He says as he wraps a finger around the waistband of her joggers, slowly pulling them down. “Are you really as soaked as you said you were?” He whispers in her ear, goosebumps instantly rising on her skin at his words.

She gasps as his index finger traces along her folds, teasing her entrance, “Fuck yes.” and she kisses him with fervor, her hands tangling in his hair as she tries to get him to the bedroom.

“Mmm fuck, baby. I missed you.” He mumbles against her lips, his tongue slipping in her mouth as he lays her down on the bed. He slips his hoodie off, her hands instantly on his chest.

“Show me how much you missed me.” She gasps, pulling off her shirt.

>>>

Timothée sighed as he laid down next to her, sweat glistening on their skin.

“Fuck, y/n/n. How did I last two months without this?” He wondered, making her smile.

“No clue, I was getting antsy, babe.” She replied, leaning over to kiss his neck.

“I really did miss you a lot,” He said, tracing his fingers along her arm, “I did a lot of thinking.”

“Yeah? About what?” She questioned, closing her eyes as he spoke.

“Our future.” He said, she smiled at that. Her heart started racing at what he was going to say next. “I was thinking about what our house would look like, what our morning routines would look like, if we'd have a pet… and maybe even kids. Things like that.”

She blushed at the thought, “I know that I want a fish.” She said, only half joking.

He laughed and nodded, “I could fuck with a fish.” She giggled and shook her head at his goofiness. “But seriously,” He started, “Wh- what do you think?”

Is it gonna happen now?

While they're totally naked and still sweaty from their session? God, how will they tell this story to their parents?

She looks up at him, her heart racing, she locked her eyes with his, “I can't wait. I think about that all the time, Timothée.” She replies, making him sigh in relief and then grin.

He engulfs her in his arms and kisses her with a fire that she'd never felt from him before. He moans into it and lays her back down, slowly moving down to kiss her neck several times before speaking, “Fuck, I love you so much Y/n. I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together.” Butterflies erupt in her tummy at his words, “I'm gonna make you my wife and I'll be your husband and we'll live happily ever after.” He says in between kisses, making her blissfully sigh and shut her eyes.

Once again, they were interrupted by Timothées phone ringing, it was his moms ringtone, Timothée groaned and went to ignore it, but she spoke up, “It’s your mom, baby. Answer it, it’s alright.”

He frowned but kissed her before he leaned over to pick up his phone.

She sighed and stared at the ceiling as he spoke to his mom, she looked around the room before she got up to get dressed and order some dinner. He frowned at her movements but went back to listening to his mom.

The rest of their lives

“Come on a walk with me, baby. It’s pretty outside.” Timothée said as he slipped on a hoodie, “We’ve been inside all day, we need some fresh air.” He said, coming up behind her on the couch and squeezing her shoulders.

It's true. They've just been lounging around his apartment all day, cuddling and watching comedies mostly.

She leans her head back and groans, “I’m so lazy right now, babe.” She whines, making him chuckle.

“I'll get you a sweet treat.” He said, quirking an eyebrow, she looked up at him and smiled.

“You sure know the way to a girl's heart.” She giggled, getting up and putting on her shoes, also sliding on a hoodie- his hoodie..

“I know the way to my girls heart.” He replied, intertwining their fingers as he opened the door, letting her out first.

“Did you have anywhere in mind?” She asked as they stepped outside, the cool autumn air nicely hitting her face.

“No, just a nice little walk.” He shrugged, smiling down at the ground.

“Let's turn here.” He said simply while she was talking about a tiktok she saw about her hometowns nfl team.

He listened intently as she continued on, saying how she had to call her dad for clarification on their most recent game.

“Ohhh is that why you were on the phone with him when I got home earlier?” He questioned, lightly pulling her closer to his side and wrapping an arm over her shoulders, still not letting go of her hand.

She nodded, “Yeah, you know I love bothering the guy.” She laughs, making him chuckle.

“Remember the first time I met your parents?” He suddenly asks, she looks up at him, admiring his side profile as he walks.

She giggles at the memory, “Oh my god! You were so cute and nervous. It was hilarious.”

“I was convinced your dad hated me.” He laughs, “And your mom was like, the nicest human ever. It was weird!”

“That's probably why they divorced.” She jokes, resulting in a snort escaping from her. Timothée laughs and squeezes her hand.

“You're adorable.” He says as he looks over at her, admiring the smile on her face as they continue walking.

He takes a turn, gently pulling her along as she quirks an eyebrow at him.

The sun was almost completely down already, a warm glow covering the partly empty sidewalks. This was her favorite time of the day, the world always looks so peaceful and beautiful.

“Where are you taking me, Chalamet?” She questions, watching as he guides her over to the local park, the same one that they've had countless picnics at, where they would read their wildly different books next to each other for hours in silence, occasionally updating one another on their book... and then maybe they'd make out for a bit, depending how crowded it was.

She remembers appreciating how, early on in their relationship, Timothée would never make fun of her book choices, as she leans more toward romcoms and books with cute endings. She had felt like less of an intellectual when she compared her books with his, but he never said anything.

Even now, he never teases her about it. Sometimes when he comes back from another city or country for work, he'll hand her a bag of books that he thinks she “might like” and it was always cute little romances or coming of age stories. She would smile and pull him down to her and kiss him thankfully.

Anyway, that whole tangent was because of the park, they hadn't been in so long due to their increasingly busy schedules. Even though they couldn’t have their cute little dates as much anymore, they still always made time for each other in other ways.

One night, he came over after a late shoot just to spend time with her, she was already falling asleep, but Timmy just climbed into her bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close to him as possible.

“We haven't been here in so long, huh?” He said, basically reading her mind.

“Yeah,” She smiles, “We should go to the-”

“The café?” He quirks an eyebrow at her as she nods, “I was thinking the same thing.”

“I wonder if our favorite barista is still there.”

“Wow, we were going there so much that we really have a favorite barista.” He laughs, she giggles and subconsciously runs her thumb along his knuckles.

“Remember that one night we were there for like… four hours-” She cut herself off as she felt Timothée stop walking and his hand leave hers. “Wh-”

Her breath catches in her throat as she turns around and sees him down on one knee.

Here we go.

“Hey, Y/n?” He says softly, reaching into his pocket.

“Yeah?” She replies, so quietly that shes not even sure if he heard it.

He nervously smiles as he pulls out a velvet box, she gasps and covers her mouth as he opens it, revealing a beautiful ring. A perfect ring. One that she's literally saved in her private pinterest boards.

“Shut up.” She grins, locking eyes with him as he laughs at her reaction.

“I've been waiting for the perfect moment, but I realized that there is no perfect moment, Y/n. You make it perfect. We make it perfect. I want the rest of our lives to start as soon as possible. So, y/n, will you-”

“Yes! Yes of course, Timmy!” She excitedly says, reaching down to pull him up before kissing him deeply. “God, I was wondering when you'd finally ask me.” She laughs against his lips, running her fingers through his hair

“Well, I was interrupted a couple times, but I think it was worth it.” He smiles, taking the ring out of the box and sliding it on her finger. “It’s a perfect fit.” He sighs in relief.

“It’s perfect.” She says, her eyes watering, “You're perfect. I love you.” She lets a few tears fall, Timothée wipes at them, eyes getting teary as well.

"I love you more." He pulls her in for a hug, his hands on her waist, “I'm going to love you a long long time, Y/n/n.” He says before kissing her again and pulling away, “Come on, let's go see our favorite barista.” He laughs, intertwining their fingers.

She can’t stop smiling, she can’t stop looking at the ring, and she can’t stop thinking about what their future will be like which makes butterflies erupt in her tummy.

"So, will you finally move in with me, baby?" He asks, nudging her cheek with his nose.

She giggles and feels her cheeks heat up, "I'll start packing tomorrow."

*

[sweetassugar]

You’re a snitch some may call it but your official title is a spy. You’ve been behind enemy lines for quite some time and you were about to get exported out until one wrong move and you found yourself in enemy hands. They had your hands tied to the ceiling yet enough slack for you to comfortably stay bent over if you wanted to. You had been a spy long enough to know torture was the only answer for what was going to happen to you so when a masked man walked in with a large bucket you let out a shaky sigh. You had been caught red handed there was no use pleading but to just sit and take it maybe wait for death. Yet as you heard a bucket slosh around you got curious what were they going to do? This man didn’t have any normal torture devices on him just a bucket. Yet your wondering came to a halt when he shredded your clothes with his knife leaving you bare. His finger prodding at your asshole as you let out a hiss of discomfort. “Never used back here before?” He asked his voice was low and husky as he bent down licking a soft stripe up your puckered hole. “Thats alright… these are small now.” He said making you question what he meant as he forced you bent over and kept lapping at your hole with such aggressive intent. You couldn’t help but while your free legs trying to kick at him which only made him shove his tongue deeper into your hole. You groan your hips held close to his face before he pulled his tongue away and shoved his hand into the bucket. You hear a wet sloshing sound before you feel something small and plastic being pressed into you. Before long you feel something cold and slimey being shoved down your guts. You gasp as he then dips the utensil back into the bucket and poured more of this mysterious substance into your guts. However before you can try and push it out he stands up kicking the now empty bucket to the side and lining his cock up with your ass. You let out a pained cry as he shoved his cock into your slimey hole thrusting passionately setting a punishing pace that made your stomach hurt with all the liquid slushing around. You lower your head trying to ignore the pain before eventually he is done and shoves a plug into your ass. For the next few days you were given a liquid diet and if you tried to refuse to eat it was shoved down your throat with a tube. They were keeping you alive but why? What the hell was inside you they didn’t remove the plug but you felt your stomach getting heavier and heavier…

It had been about two weeks since then your stomach was bulging out as if you were pregnant and that same masked man came by. Your stomach felt horrible whatever was inside you just wanted out but no matter how hard you pushed you couldn’t get the plug out. The only time you came close a guard shoved it deeper in before grabbing a whip and reminding you of your place. No one spoke to you no one even looked at you or touched you until the two weeks when your plug was finally removed. Yet when you tried to push you hear an, “ah ah ah… not yet lovely.” He said replacing the large plug with his fingers as he stretched out your hole more. “You’re my little brood mare.” He spoke his other hand reaching to caress your stomach. “W-what..?” You ask unsure of what he meant by that until you felt something finally being pushed out of you. Your anus pushing out what felt like large beads. They were about the size of ping pong balls if you had to guess “These are eggs sweet mare. In about two months they’ll hatch but they need a nice warm, wet, and dark environment.” He said before pushing the few eggs that he allowed to slip out back into your hole. You groaned feeling the uncomfortable push as you felt a panic. “No I don’t want to give birth out of my ass..!” You say a desperate plea which only made the man chuckle. You stood there struggling your wrists all bruised up as you let out desperate whines. “Where’s your base?” He asked stroking your right ass gently, “I- I don’t know..” you mumble out. If this man didn’t kill you you’d surely be killed by your own organization. Your faith in your team to rescue you was still high you just had to hold on. The masked man gave you a violent spank making you cry out as he just clicked his tongue. “Then I’ll see you in two weeks.”

Another two weeks had passed and your stomach had been stretched so painfully. Every slight movement was a jolt of pain that never seemed to ease. You were drooling slightly tears had long since dried on your cheeks as you heard a door open. Had it been two weeks already? You had lost track of time before feeling the familiar plug being pulled from your ass. “The eggs seem to be growing well.” He said watching as you push a few out holding them. They were held together by a slimy substance making them conjoined like frog spawn. He didn’t let you push anymore out and watched as around five of them hung from your puckered hole. They were a little bigger than a duck egg now and the masked man only seemed happier seeing the way your belly extended. “I…I really don’t know anything…” you sniffle pleading for mercy. “You sure? Any longer and these baby’s might hatch. I’m sure you wouldn’t want whatever comes out of these eggs to crawl out from this tight space on their own would you?” He asked making you shake your head as you let out choked sobs. “I don’t know—!” You’re abruptly cut off as you feel the eggs being pushed back in making you scream out. “Two more weeks it is.” He said with a disappointed sign the sound of his boots walking away echoed in the empty room. “Please! Take them out!” You screamed but all your cries fell on deaf ears as you would be left alone to birth whatever strange creature comes from the eggs inside you.

[nastyc2nt]

Hanta sero being the biggest fuck boy around, and izuku being sensitive and inexperienced leads to many things

Like izuku begging sero to teach him to fuck you. And trust me he’s writhing. Red faced, maybe teary. He’s so embarrassed. And sero just drinks it up. “Yeah? You want me to teach you to fuck your girl?” Or something slightly condescending.

Of course hanta agrees cause you’re hot. So he’s sitting behind you, against the headboard. While he shows izuku how to make you cum in every way.

First lesson was fingers, second was tongue, third was his dick. And after was toys he lended you both. Fingers started out tricky, but sero was fairly hands on, resulting in four fingers in you rather than two. Izukus personal favourite was the vibrators. Something about being as desperate and pathetic as him, turned him on.

Something about the condescending attitude plus the whiny pathetic behaviour goes crazy. (Side note. If you want it to be even more freaky. Make izuku the fuckboy and bakugo the pathetic one. “I guess you’ll always be second place to me kacchan.’ Or something even more diva-ish.)

🫀

I’m literally going crazy, i wouldn’t have thought of this on my own and i’m so grateful you brought this to my attention—

Sero is a very good choice because he’s so experienced!! Poor Izuku wouldn’t know what to do, he’s never had a girlfriend before!!

She/Her and Born at birth anatomy.

{idk where katsuki came in from, but I literally breath for cocky izuku. Will make a small dabble if you send in something about cocky izuku and katsuki}

{Also saw chubby reader for some reason- BUT EVERYTHINH WORKS}

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

“Don’t just whine,” sero sternly shouted at the green haired man that was too lost in your pussy to think of anything else. Izuku has been trying so hard to learn everything, and has been getting so turned on with how pathetic you looked when you’ve been overstimulated.

“M’sorry,” he opened his eyes and focused on fucking you just right instead of his own needs, he tries to reach deep and use his cock with the tips sero gave him! And he listened to how you like it as well.

Sero rolls his eyes and grabs izukus hand from behind you, his other hand still grabbing your waist and you lean back onto his chest. “Play with her clit like a man! I thought the number one hero could please his girlfriend,” he looks down at you, your eyes half open as you look at your boyfriend. He recalled your defenses against izuku being a bad lover throughout the evening but never once said no, or that what sero did wasn’t right.

You moan and whimper when izuku started to play with your overused clit and started to squirm underneath both their holds, but sero made sure to keep you still. “See? Ain’t that a precious sight,” he hated to admit, if you were to find yourself single — he’d fuck you so good. But he has more respect for izuku then to pull you away from him.

Izuku had enough of the hunger in Seros eyes, he knew it was strange to get jealous when he literally asked for this.

You yelped when izuku pressed your leg up higher and inched his body closer, his legs almost crushing you, “Gonna cum?” Izuku egged on. sero watches him start to pump your guts, and the sound from your lips and pussy is so good it makes him hard. Izuku was rough now to, his hand making a imprint on your leg that he held closer to your head, and his hand still playing with your clit.

Sero smirks, proud of Izuku gaining confidence and fucking like a man. “Damn, fuckin’ her rough? I knew you were like a rabbit.”

¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!

Taglist: @sparklylanddetective @fvitos

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hiii this is my first request! I love all your works!

Could you write about Donna and reader getting into a fight resulting in reader hallucinating. Reader is terrified of Donna after this and strays away from Donna. Reader decides to finally go down to the basement after days of staying away from Donna. Most things in the basement are broken, and Donna is in her workshop crying and talking to herself ( a very bad crisis ) Reader is hesitant to comfort donna, but Donna sees this and reacts even more. Reader finally comforts Donna and sees that Donna won't hurt her.

Yesss!!!! I hope you don't mind I put this one as a kind of "halloween special", the plot suited very well with it! Anyway, welcome to the amazing world of requesting, and thank you for your request! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Terrified

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt and comfort, Donna being Donna, some scary things...

Word count: 8,055

Summary: You never thought she was capable of doing that to you...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! Happy Halloween to you all!!!

“So… do all the dolls have the same size?” you asked curiously, raising your gaze to better observe the brunette's work.

The lady in black looked at you briefly, shaking her head and placing a new dress on one of those new porcelain companions.

“No,” she answered dryly. “It depends on what it's going to be like, the clothes it wears…” she commented, securing the seams.

“Oh,” you said interested, nodding curiously and moving your chair closer. “I see… and… how do you decide what each one will wear?” you asked again.

She shrugged, this time without looking at you.

“I guess I don't think about it, unless it's a special order,” she murmured, focused.

“How many orders do you have?” you asked, letting your curious nature not stop asking.

“Um, not many,” Donna whispered, sighing tiredly. “Little girls don't like porcelain dolls nowadays.”

“Well… it's understandable,” you said, running a hand over your neck and looking at a nearby shelf, where those finished grey dolls seemed to be watching you, giving you a chill. “Some people find them scary.”

“Mm, nonsense,” she said, with a mocking smile.

“Yes…” you sighed, with a shy smile. “It's probably nonsense but… just looking at those lifeless eyes…”

“Do they scare you?” Donna asked, with an amused expression.

“What? Oh, no, no, not me,” you said nervously, pretending to be brave. “They seem harmless… except Angie, of course.”

“Are you scared of Angie?” she asked, frowning.

“Scared is probably not the right word,” you said amused, rolling your eyes. “Rather, what scares me is finding out what new insult she has for me.”

“She's very good at that,” the lady joked, finishing the seams and looking at her new creation. “But you already know that she likes you, don't take everything she says seriously, tesoro.”

“Oh, I know,” you murmured with a tender smile, getting up from the chair. “I think you made her… creepy, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t make Angie,” Donna said, looking down. “She was a gift from my father.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” you said in a lower tone, as an apology. “Sorry, maybe I’m disturbing you, I can’t help but ask.”

“No, don’t worry, it’s okay to have company,” she whispered, turning her head towards where you were, pulling your wrist tightly to drag your body to hers, sitting it on her lap. “Your company.”

“Mm, well, that’s a compliment,”  ​​you said in a tender voice, letting Donna steal a couple of kisses on your lips while she held you lovingly. “Hey, release me.”

“I don’t want to,” she said, amused, giving kisses on your face, sighing after that little game. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Mm, not at the moment,” you said, pretending to think about the answer. “But I'm sure I'll come up with more questions.”

“You always want to know everything,” she said, caressing your cheek and lowering you to the floor after one last kiss.

“Yeah, well,” you said shyly. “Maybe you need my help if you get sick or something, so I like to learn new things.”

“You don't have to worry about that, I never get sick,” Donna said, with a much more serious voice than the situation required.

“Sorry, my immortal, blessed by the Gods lady,” you joked with a childish voice, pretending excessive respect.

“It's not a blessing,” she said, turning around with a sad voice, relaxing her expression.

“W-Well, I think that...” you murmured, nervous because of that sudden cold attitude.

It would be better to change the subject.

“Hey, Donna, I thought that when you're done with your dolls, we could take a walk in the woods,” you said in a loving tone, hanging on the lady's shoulders, kissing her wounded cheek to calm her apparent nerves.

“No,” she said, moving away from your overwhelming touch.

“Why not? It's been a long time since we went for a walk and…” you said frowning.

“(Y/N), it's October, it's cold and it gets dark soon; we're better off at home,” Donna said, with a firm voice, focused again on some pieces of fabric.

“It's true,” you sighed shaking your head and looking around. “But tomorrow we could…”

“What part of it's cold don't you understand?” the lady interrupted, with a dark look at you. “If you want to go out and freeze, go ahead, but don't count on me.”

“I can't count on you for anything, it seems,” you whispered angrily, fed up with the doll maker's passivity and constant refusal to do different things.

“What did you say?” she asked, turning around abruptly. “(Y/N), what…?”

“Nothing,” you said with a sigh, with your hands making a gesture of surrender. “I haven't said anything.”

“I don't understand why you insist so much on leaving the house,” she murmured, with a fleeting glance that pierced your soul.

“I don't like being locked up, when I was little, I used to always be outside, you know, in the woods,” you commented, wandering aimlessly through the workshop. “I love nature, all its seasons. Cold was never an impediment to…”

“Do you mind shutting up for a moment? I have to concentrate,” she interrupted you in an unpleasant way, saying with her attitude that you were really disturbing her.

“Um, um… I'm sorry, Donna,” you said, obeying.

“Mm, don't worry, sometimes I have a hard time getting used to not being alone,” she said after a few moments of silence, lowering that tension.

“And I have a hard time getting used to being quiet,” you joked.

“Sì, that too,” she said, calming your nerves.

Deciding to leave the lady in black alone, you walked around the workshop, curious, as always, observing each of the details that you didn't usually notice, even taking some of those shadowy dolls with your hands.

“Mm, yes, lycans are definitely scarier,” you whispered in a low tone so as not to disturb, assuring yourself that those dolls didn't scare you.

There would never be anything that would cause you more fear than one of those drooling, bloodthirsty beasts. Ever since you were very young, you were terrified of those creatures.

An annoying noise almost made you drop the doll, it sounded like a thunder coming from above.

“Ah!, damn!” you screamed, putting a hand on your chest.

“What's wrong? It was just a thunder,” said Donna frowning, annoyed by your interruption.

“Yes but... well, down here they are worse,” you said embarrassed, returning the doll to its place and scratching the back of your neck.

The lady slowly stood up, walking towards you and grabbing your waist.

“Do you know what scares me, tesoro?” she asked, whispering in your ear. “How beautiful you are…”

“Um, Donna…” you said blushing, accepting a couple of quick kisses from the brunette, who laughed amused. “I love your kisses.”

“I love giving them to you,” she whispered again, fulfilling your wish to feel, again, her lips on yours.

It was a shame that another thunderclap made you jump on the spot, cowardly clinging to your girlfriend.

“Damn it…” you whispered embarrassed, moving away among amused laughs from the lady.

“My little scaredy-cat…” she sighed amused, giving you one last kiss and walking away again, sitting at the work table. “Calm down, tesoro, I have to make the top of a dress, but when I'm done, I'll be all yours.”

“Oh, I like how it sounds,” you said, turning your ankle on the floor, biting your lip, but leaving the lady alone. “I'll wait…”

The silence was interrupted by thunders that rumbled in the walls from time to time. You, trying to ignore them, walked back next to the dolls, observing them with curiosity.

One of them, which stood out among the rest, caught your attention, and very carefully, you picked it up, observing it with interest. It wasn’t a normal doll: it had a colorful dress, with weak, frayed seams.

The doll's face was terribly poorly painted, one eye here, another there, lips of a garish color... it was a complete disaster, and an unbeatable opportunity to continue joking with Donna.

“Wow, I see that there is a first time for everything,” you said amused, arranging the doll's disheveled hair. “This doll is horrible, Donna.”

“Mm? What doll?” she asked without looking at you, cutting a piece of fabric.

“This one,” you said, coming closer and showing her that piece of porcelain. Calling it a doll would be overestimating it, of course. “I think it's the ugliest one I've ever seen.”

The lady turned slowly, opening her eye wide when she saw what you had in your hand, snatching it from you with a nervous gasp.

“Give it to me!” she shrieked furiously, with a childish gesture, hugging that doll. “Come osi?”

“What? Um, I don't understand,” you said nervously. “What have I done?”

“Do you think this doll is horrible, (Y/N)? That's what you said, right?” the lady growled, lovingly placing the piece of porcelain on the table, placing her disastrous clothes on it. “Come on, say it again.”

“D-Donna…” you said a bit scared. “W-Well, you've made better ones, haven't you?”

“Mm, stupida…” she hissed, with a look of disgust. “This doll was made by my sister, it was the first, and the last one she made,” she explained, making you close your eyes due to your mistake. “Mm, tell me, do you think the doll that a nine-year-old girl made is horrible?”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know, Donna, I…” you said trying to apologize.

From the look the lady gave you back, it was too late.

“Didn't you say you knew everything?” the woman in black mocked, with a tone imbued with rage.

“N-No, I said I wanted to know everything,” you said with a very low voice, nervous and embarrassed by your mistake. “Donna, forgive me, I didn't mean…”

“Get out,” she hissed, turning her back to you.

“W-Wait, I…”

“Get out! Porca puttana, lasciami estare!” she shrieked madly, pointing at the door. “Get out, get out, get, out!”

“O-Okay,” you said hastily, running towards the door. “Donna, I…”

“Leave me alone, (Y/N), please,” she whispered in a calmer voice.

You nodded regretfully and left the workshop.

You should have known that any mention or involuntary disregard for her deceased family triggered that horrible behavior from the Lord. After all, she wasn’t just any woman, even if you were.

You were no different than any other villager. Your life was simple, your family, too. Being born and raised under the protection of the Black Gods had many disadvantages, but the tranquility that came with being in that place surrounded by shadows made up for it.

Always a lover of nature, animals and plants, you had satisfied your curiosity by reading a thousand books on those subjects, and studying the little beings that lived near your house.

Real animals, of course, not lycans.

That innate, almost unbearable curiosity made you fill yourself with knowledge, an apparently useless knowledge.

Luckily, the knowledge that seemed useless to you made sense that afternoon, the afternoon when, buying things from the Duke, you came across something unusual.

Normally, the Lords didn’t come down to the village and associate with inferior beings like you, much less the lady in black, doll maker, Donna Beneviento. She was a strange woman, consumed by madness and loneliness.

Seeing her black dress contrasting with the snow, the doll she held in her arms and her face hidden by a black veil made you want to retreat.

Fortunately or unfortunately, a valuable encyclopedia about the flora of Romania was waiting for you and your thirst for knowledge was much stronger than fear. If you hadn’t approached that day, you would probably be wearing a castle maid's uniform.

Apparently your interests caught the timid attention of the lady in black, or rather, of her doll. That someone like her wanted to communicate with you was a sign that you didn’t know how to interpret at first.

Visits to the estate, teas and talks… All of this managed to divert your interest from the animals and plants, and direct it towards the woman in black, towards the relationship that was slowly forming between you.

Love wasn’t long in coming, unexpectedly, but long desired. Donna Beneviento's beauty was no longer a secret to you, and the question of how it would feel to kiss her, was finally answered.

It was true that Donna was a complicated, tormented woman, victim of horrible tragedies in her past, but she had a hidden side, one that only you could see.

Tender, loving, attentive… The mysterious and terrifying behavior of the lady changed completely when you were around, and you stopped returning home to stay with her. That was two years ago, two wonderful years full of joys and sorrows, of love.

“She's right, I'm stupid,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head as you walked through the dark basement, looking back from time to time, saddened by the wailing that could be heard at the end of the hallway.

“Claudia! Mi dispiace per gli errore che ho fatto!” You heard someone shout in the distance. A heartbreaking scream that made you stop.

“Donna…” you whispered helplessly. “My love… I'm sorry.”

“You've bothered my Donna again!” a shrill voice startled you, along with footsteps on the basement floor.

The Angie doll walked towards you cursing, surely due to your presence.

“Angie, I didn't mean to…” you stammered sighing, overwhelmed by the situation. “It was unintentional.”

“You're lucky that Donna is stupidly in love with you, villager, otherwise, I would have finished you off a long time ago,” the puppet commented, ignoring you and walking towards the workshop.

“Hey! That's not true!” you shouted, knowing that Donna was right, Angie was never serious. “I'll make it up to her, I promise!”

“You better do it!” the doll shrieked, opening the doors of the workshop, making Donna’s cries more evident.

“I have to do something for her,” you muttered to yourself, scratching your head. “I have such a big mouth” you lamented, shaking your head and looking for a solution to the problem you had created. “Yes, that's it.”

With renewed spirits and a smile on your face, you came to the conclusion about what you could do to calm her lament. Maybe it would be silly, but Donna loved the little details you had with her.

“Get ready, my love, I'm cooking today,” you said, entering the dark kitchen and rubbing your hands, searching among the junk for an old recipe book. “Let's see, let's see... yes, flour...”

Little by little you followed the instructions on that book, a dusty and ancient one that you barely understood. That, along with the thousand questions you asked the lady while she was cooking and your intense observations, gave you enough courage to try to make the sublime pasta that Donna blessed you with every day.

“Um, yes, okay,” you said, with your hands full of flour, observing your disastrous dough. “I think it turns out more or less like this, right? Maybe I should ask Angie for help, I don't understand anything,” you said sighing, passing a stained hand over your forehead, covering your face with flour. “No, (Y/N), I don't need that doll, she'll tell on me, for sure.”

Saying that it looked anything like the food the ventriloquist prepared would be very bold on your part. You tried your best, but cooking was never your strong point, no matter how much effort you put into it.

“Basil…” you said, searching through the aromatic herbs the lady always kept. “I don't see it…” you murmured, looking at the steaming plates, covered in a disastrous tomato sauce. “I-I suppose an oregano leaf will do, right?” you said, tearing one of the leaves from the pot and clumsily decorating the plates.

“(Y/N)…” a sad murmur alerted you.

Donna had appeared at the door, looking hurt from crying, but apparently calmer.

“Wait, wait!” you said with an amused laugh, running towards the lady and quickly turning her around so she wouldn't see what you had done. “Don't look, honey.”

“(Y/N),” she protested, stopping dead so you couldn't push her out of the kitchen. “La mia cucina…” she sighed with a gasp of horror as she looked over your shoulder at the mess you had caused.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about it,” you said amused, finally managing to throw her out of the room. “I’ll clean it up later, you… set the table, okay?”

“A-Aspetta, (Y/N), let me…” she protested again, to which you laughed, shaking your head. “That doesn't smell…”

“Do what I say, okay, my love?” you insisted with an amused smile.

“O-Okay, but… Gods, (Y/N), you're covered in flour,” she said, running a finger down your face and showing it to you. “What have you done?”

You laughed shyly but didn't give it any importance.

“Come on, honey, out, out, move your ass to the living room…” you said amused, kissing her quickly and making impatient gestures with your hands.

The lady looked at you with a frown, blinking in confusion, but finally shrugged, walking down the hall muttering something incomprehensible.

“Just wait, my Donna…” you said satisfied, giving her some time to set the table, watching your pathetic attempt at cooking.

After a few minutes of waiting, you decided to go up with dinner, trying not to burn yourself with the plates.

“Here's dinner,” you hummed as you exited the elevator. Luckily, the lady in black listened to you and the table was carefully set. “Sorpresa.”

“Mm?” she murmured, sitting down and looking at her plate with an arched eyebrow. “Dinner, you say?”

“Yes, I've been in the kitchen for two hours and this is the result,” you said, dropping into the chair and rubbing your hands. “Do you want some wine?”

“No, um…” she said, dipping her fork into the food and looking at it with a strange expression. “Cos'è questo?”

“Well… pasta,” you said with a soft smile, nervous. “I made it myself.”

“That's obvious,” she commented, arching her eyebrow, letting a piece slide off the fork, falling onto the plate with an unpleasant sound.

“What's wrong? You don't like it? You haven't even tried it,” you said worriedly, observing her expressions. “Try it, come on.”

“I don't need to do it to know,” she said, shaking her head, with a sigh of disgust.

“Know what?”

“That it's the worst pasta I've ever seen in my life,” Donna said, without any tact, stirring that strange dough with her cutlery.

“Hey, okay, it's not perfect but I...” you protested embarrassed, lowering your head.

“What is this? Oregano?” she asked, taking the green leaf that decorated the plate with her fingers. “Cazzo, (Y/N), put basil, do you understand? Basil.”

“I-I'm sorry, there wasn't any and… I improvised,” you muttered with trembling hands, terribly offended.

“Improvised… idiota… the tomato is cold. You have to heat it so it doesn't cool the food, well, if you can call this… food,” Donna said unpleasantly, breaking up the pasta with her hands. “Look, it's full of flour, you haven't cooked it enough and it sticks to my fingers.”

“I'm sorry, okay? I'm not as good a cook as you,” you said annoyed, crossing your arms. “I was just trying to…”

“What? To kill me?” she joked, with an ironic tone that ended up making you angry. “Questo è una merda.”

“Hey! Hey, don't be too hard, Donna,” you said, getting up from your chair. “There’s no need to offend me... I made it with all my love, for you.”

“I'll tell you things as they are, (Y/N), if you wanted to surprise me, you've succeeded, unpleasantly,” the lady said, laughing arrogantly.

“What's wrong with you? I was just trying to have a detail for you, and you thank me like this?” you said with a sob. “Well, you know what? Leave it be, I'll throw it in the trash.”

“Now you want to throw food away?” she asked, holding the plate you wanted to take with you. “You're pissing me off, (Y/N)...”

“What about you? You've never spoken to me like that,” you said, leaving the plate on the table and running a hand over your forehead. “I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? Why? Oh, right, for making fun of my sister,” she said cockily, arching her eyebrow.

“I already told you I didn't know,” you growled, clenching your fists. “It was a mistake.”

“Your mistakes are dangerous, tesoro, you should think better before speaking,” said Donna, tasting the food with disgust, making an almost amused face. “Mm, yes, horrible.”

“Sometimes you are unbearable, Donna,” you whispered with a furious look, shaking your head. “Yes, I made a mistake, but I apologized for it and… ah!” you shrieked when a lightning bolt illuminated the room, leaving behind a deafening thunder.

Donna laughed amused, making you even angrier.

“Do you find it funny? What the hell got into you?” you asked angrily, on the verge of tears. “Is it another mood swing? Or are you just that unbearable?”

The lady didn’t erase the smile from her face.

“I'm unbearable? Me? You're the one who's after me all day, asking me absurd things, overwhelming me,” she said, pointing at you with her finger. “You make me sick.”

“Does it annoy you?” you said mockingly. “I thought you liked it.”

“Stop thinking so much, your head is going to explode,” she mocked again, eating unhappily. “(Y/N), I'm not in the mood for your nonsense.”

“Of course, the conversation ends when you say so, right, Donna?” you said, slamming your fist on the table. “Well, listen to me!”

“Shhh, don't shout,” she said in a dark whisper. “Relax, tesoro.”

“Oh, now you call me tesoro, no one can understand you, honey,” you said ironically. “Well, now you're going to listen to me... I'm really tired, Donna, I'm tired of being locked up in this house all day.”

“Mm, nothing stops you from going out,” she commented, looking at you briefly.

“You don't get it, do you? I like going out with you, doing things with you, but you, what do you do? You spend the day with those stupid dolls. You don't pay any attention to me.”

“Are my dolls stupid?” she asked, bending the fork due to the strength of her hand. “You're the stupid one. My head hurts, (Y/N), shut up.”

“I don't want to shut up!” you shouted, something that caused a sinister laugh to suddenly appear.

“Fight, fight, fight!” Angie said, making a funny gesture with her fists.

“Mm, I see you're unable to keep your mouth shut, at least outside the bedroom,” the lady commented, with a mocking smile, something that made you even more furious.

“You know what, Donna? I'm starting to think about getting out of here,” you hissed, speaking irrationally.

“Don't you dare to leave!” she shrieked, standing up abruptly, her eye shining with anger at your words. “You love me!”

“Now you yell at me, how mature...” you mocked, with an amused smile. “Now I realize why you've been alone your whole fucking life.”

The lady opened her eye wide, approaching slowly, breathing heavily. You were angry and upset by that erratic attitude that you should know about, and regretful for the mistake you made with her sister.

Anger caused those horrible words to come out of your mouth, mouth to which you immediately brought your hands. Her gaze locked onto yours like a dagger, and her hand moved slowly towards you. Donna didn't speak. She simply pressed her lips together tightly, darkening her eye more and more.

“D-Donna, honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I...” you said in a pleading voice, realizing that you had gone far, too far. “Donna...”

The woman remained motionless as you slowly approached, extending your hand towards her.

“Donna, listen to me, I…” you whispered, about to reach the black fabric of her dress.

The contact never came.

Your hand reached the darkness of her clothes, but they only blurred with a blackened cloud. You weren’t able to touch her. Her entire figure vanished with a strange sound, suddenly turning off all the lights in the room.

“What?” you asked scared by the new atmosphere of that place.

The warm light turned cold, like a wet forest in winter. In the mansion there was only darkness, the sound of rain bouncing off the windows. In front of you, there was no one. The lady had disappeared, as had her doll.

“Donna?” you asked, hoping that your eyes would soon get used to that new and strange darkness.

The cold ran down your back in the form of an unpleasant sweat and your gaze wandered around every corner of the mansion, looking for some source of light, some place to go. Your steps made the wood creak horribly, almost sinking under your feet. You were terribly scared, your whole body trembled.

Cautiously, shivering with fear in the face of that horrible darkness, you approached the hall, from where a dim but saving light came. The moon illuminated your path, guiding you through that sudden disorientation.

“Donna?” you called again, huddled in on yourself, overwhelmed by a deathly silence that perfectly matched the darkness.

The echo of your voice on the walls was the only answer. You were alone.

Terrified, you walked a little further, looking for the light that timidly entered through the large window, which was reflected majestically in the portrait on the stairs. The lady was still there, with that regal pose, holding her doll.

You swallowed, looking for answers around you, another source of light other than the dark and cold moonlight.

A deafening sound and a blinding light illuminated the house. A terrible thunder sounded at the same time, making you crouch on the floor, covering your head with your hands.

“Gods!” you screamed, seeing how the white color illuminated your surroundings for an instant, with your ears attacked by the horrible sound of the thunder.

When the fear disappeared from your body, you got up blinking several times to accustom your sight again. Everything seemed the same, but different. The atmosphere was heavier, full of humidity, and it didn't take you long to realize that the furniture was out of place, broken.

A dark sound coming from the old clock attacked your heart again. It wasn't its normal sound, it was like a sound of death, of a bad omen. Another flash of lightning appeared to scare you, combining with the mournful and dull sound of the clock.

Your eyes fell on the stairs again and your breathing quickened even more as you noticed a small, but horrible detail: the portrait of Lady Beneviento had changed.

Inside there was no longer that regal and stoic pose, that cold look. The black color was spread all over the canvas. There was no one or anything on it.

“No... no... no...” you murmured, approaching and passing your hand over it.

Nothing, it was a frame that only secured a black canvas, with a darkness that was overwhelming, opaque, empty.

That was too much for your brain to process, and your survival instinct went on alert, making you turn around and run back to the living room, screaming in terror.

“Donna, Donna!” you cried desperately, running quickly through the room, clumsily tripping over something on the floor, something that wasn't there before. “Oh...” you lamented, looking at the cause of that accident.

Your breathing stopped and you stepped back with a horrified moan. You hadn't tripped over a piece of furniture, but over a black and white stain that had been lying on the floor. A flash of lightning illuminated the room again and you could see what it was.

“No, no!” you screamed, shaking your head.

Beside you, lifeless, was a figure dressed in Donna's clothes, but it wasn't her. Instead, that dress covered the bones of an old, lifeless skeleton. Next to it, lying on the floor, was the Angie doll, also lifeless.

“Donna? N-No… No…” you stammered, realizing who those bones belonged to, clumsily getting up from the floor, moving as far away from that horrible sight as possible. “What's going on? Help!”

Your screams were of no use, but your vision cleared a bit. Around you, there was undoubtedly the Beneviento mansion, but it was nothing like it was a few moments ago.

The wind moved the curtains through some windows that were now broken. Everything was destroyed, covered by a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, as if hundreds of years had passed.

Scared, confused, you bent down to pick up the Angie doll, its wooden limbs rotting, almost falling apart in your hands.

“Angie…” you sighed hugging the doll and looking at that strange and dark place, trying not to look at the lady’s bones.

You walked cautiously through the living room, tripping over broken furniture, over bowls full of spoiled fruit, illuminated by those tireless flashes of lightning.

Desperate, you looked for a corner to protect yourself from that nightmare, letting yourself fall on the damp, broken floor, which was covered in mold.

“No, I'm dreaming, I'm just dreaming,” you repeated over and over, rocking on your back with the doll in your arms.

Completely oblivious to logical and rational thinking about your situation, you just cried desperately in that unknown, devoured by the passage of time house.

A creaking sound caught your attention, one very similar to the sound the front door made. Then, slow footsteps seemed to approach you. You looked up, dragging yourself along the old floor to check what was happening. You wish you hadn't.

The front door moved in the wind, completely unhooked from its frame, hitting the wall with an unpleasant noise. The rain and thunders sounded much more intense, you could almost feel the drops of water wetting your face. But that wasn't the worst; you knew the door was closed, which meant that... someone had come in.

You backed away again, hiding behind the door that led to the living room, looking through it without letting Angie go. A flash of lightning illuminated a horrible bloody claw that peeked out from the doorway. Growls began to harass your ears as you walked backwards.

You turned your head for a moment to see the identity of your pursuer. A lycan, a horrible lycan was walking through the house, looking for something, looking for you. You gasped, stepping on a vase on the floor, drawing its attention. Its head turned towards you, but fortunately, you were much faster, able of fleeing from that monster.

Its steps destroyed the rotten wood of the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind them. It walked slowly, looking around, as if it couldn't see you. Your legs trembled hopelessly but you forced them to keep moving slowly, dodging all obstacles.

A dark roar alerted you again to the danger, and with your gaze, feeling cornered, you looked for a place to hide. Knocked over on the floor was Donna's old desk, perfectly placed to serve as a shelter.

Without thinking, you launched yourself at it, covering your mouth so your breathing wouldn't alert the creature. Carefully, you watched its steps, suppressing a horrified cry when one of its claws ruthlessly crushed the skull of Donna's skeleton, making a noise you would never be able to forget.

You tried to relax, but it was in vain, you were unable to remain calm. You had never been so scared. You thought you could have died of terror. Almost feeling the monster's breath on your neck, you focused your gaze on the Angie doll, a terrible idea.

The puppet's head turned slowly, freezing you. Its broken, nonexistent eyes watched you, you could feel them.

“You... You killed me!” the puppet screamed in a distorted voice, causing you to scream as well, throwing the doll to the floor.

“Ah!” you screamed, standing up in horror, something that, of course, alerted the beast, which roared in satisfaction at your presence. “No, no!” you cried, without looking very well where you were going, running down the elevator hallway.

You quickly opened the now rusty bars and got into the cabin, desperately pressing the button and praying that it would work. Miraculously, with a metallic sound, it did.

“No!” you yelled when that beast launched itself at the fence, extending its claws to tear you apart. Luckily, you managed to corner yourself in the farthest part, and the elevator began to move downwards.

The light in the cabin flickered, threatening to leave you completely in the dark again. You tried to catch your breath, to wake up from that nightmare, but you couldn't, as a lugubrious metallic sound shook the cabin dangerously. The light went out, and the elevator abruptly fell to the basement.

It was a resounding fall, but you didn't get hurt, not a scratch, not even the blow affected you.

To your relief, the basement was perfectly lit, with that warm atmosphere it always had. You looked at the destroyed elevator, swallowing and walking forward, stopping abruptly at the horrible sound of another thunder.

When you opened your eyes, the nightmare continued. That kind of abandonment emerged in the basement as well. All the lamps were fallen, broken on the floor. The pictures on the walls no longer hung from them, the dust and humidity became too noticeable in your nose.

A sinister laugh bounced off the walls, the distorted voice of the doll entered your ears unpleasantly, almost as if it were behind you. You didn't want to check, you just ran out again.

A creaking sound accompanied your steps, slowly turning off the lights that were still on. The darkness followed you, as did that sinister laugh.

Just when you were about to lose the remaining light, you reached the shattered doors of the workshop, closing them as best you could, with that laugh sounding behind them. Scared, fearing the worst, you moved one of the tables in the workshop, which mysteriously remained illuminated, and put it as a barricade, slowly backing away.

“Open the door! You killed me!” Angie was screaming, hitting the doors with too much strength, impossible for her.

“No…” you sighed exhausted, crying in fear, approaching the back of the room, looking for another hiding place. In the absence of one, you crouched on the floor, pressing your head with your hands. “Stop, stop it…”

The knocks stopped and you were able to open your eyes. Slowly, you stood up, looking around, coinciding with the dolls that were always on the shelves.

“(Y/N)…” a hoarse whisper told you that you weren’t out of danger yet.

The laughter returned, but it wasn’t the only one. Giggles could be heard in the workshop, some coming from those dolls on the shelf. Unable to continue, paralyzed by fear, you stood still, looking at them out of the corner of your eye.

With the sound of a thunder, all those heads suddenly turned to look at you, increasing the intensity of those deafening laughs.

“No! No! No!” you screamed with all your might, letting yourself fall to the floor. “No, no, no, no, no, no…”

“(Y/N)!” a louder scream made you open your eyes.

The light illuminated the living room of the mansion with the usual warmth, while you were against the wall, with your knees pressed together to your chest. Your eyes hurt from crying and your body still trembled with terror. Confused, you looked around for some coincidence with that nightmare, but there was none.

In front of you, Lady Beneviento was crouching, with a worried look, but, above all, alive.

“Donna!” you yelled, throwing yourself into her arms. “Donna, Donna, Donna...” you repeated, crying desperately, terrified, but relieved because the nightmare was over. “Gods, it was horrible, I...” you stopped, letting the brunette's clothes go and moving away slowly.

When your mind was able to calm down, you realized what had happened. All of that seemed like a nightmare, a very real one. You hadn't fallen asleep, nor was there any other possible explanation. It was a hallucination.

It wasn't the result of nerves, or that disastrous dinner. You knew who was responsible. Donna, she, surely overwhelmed by your hurtful words, made you hallucinate, demonstrating her powers before you, using them against you.

The fear returned, but that time it was different. Slowly, you moved away from the lady's embrace, panting nervously.

“Honey, forgive me...” she said, searching for your hands, ones that you rejected with a furious gasp. “I lost my mind, I didn't want to...”

“D-Donna...” you whispered, almost without a voice. “Did you do this to me?” you asked, getting up clumsily due to the trembling of your legs.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... (Y/N), I was very angry and I took it out on you... if you let me explain...” she said in a soft voice, chasing you slowly through the house while you backed away, shaking your head.

“Don't come closer,” you said, cornered against a wall. “Don't come closer...” you begged with a frightened sob.

“Amore mio, per favore, io...” Donna whispered, reaching out her hand towards you, making you run away again.

“No, no!” you screamed scared, dodging her attempts to grab you. “Don't touch me! D-Donna... what have you done to me?”

“If you let me explain...” she insisted, managing to grab your wrist.

You, frightened, tried to get out of her grip.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed desperately, pushing her away from you.

She looked at you with a sad look, with her mouth open, not knowing what to say.

“I'm sorry, (Y/N),” she sighed, with her eye full of tears.

“Are you sorry? You've made me live the worst experience of my life!” you shouted furiously, moving further away. “I-I don't want you to come near me, Donna, you scare me.”

“But, tesoro…” she said, crying at the impotence of not being able to make you reason.

“No! Leave me alone!” you screamed, fleeing up the stairs, passing by the intact portrait, being desperately pursued by the lady until you locked yourself in the guest room. “Go away!”

“(Y/N), please, listen to me,” Donna said behind the door, knocking on it softly. “Please, open the door.”

“No!” you shouted, leaning your back against the wall, turning on all the lights in the room. “Go away! You scare me!”

“Don't tell me… that… please… just let me…” she stammered, her voice broken by sobs. “Open the door, I just want to talk.”

“I'm not going to do it, I'm not going to let you hurt me again,” you growled, clenching your fists tightly. “This is the worst thing you've ever done, Donna... You've made me be afraid of you.”

“I would never hurt you! It was a mistake!” she shrieked, banging harder on the door. “I was wrong! Forgive me, please!”

“I will never, ever forgive you!” you screamed with all your might, making your voice bounce off the walls, the echo of your screams being the last thing you heard before a quick clatter of heels and a heartbreaking sob that receded down the stairs.

You sighed, closing your eyes and letting yourself fall on the old bed, crying inconsolably. You simply couldn't believe it. Naturally in all that time you had arguments like any normal couple, it always ends well.

Not that night, that night Donna went too far, attacking you with her powers, concentrating your greatest fears in your mind. Donna being dead and a lycan chasing you was no coincidence; those were your two greatest fears. She played with them, with your mind, unable to be rational, making completely lose your mind.

You wondered if your nightmares would be the same from that moment on, if Donna hadn’t become, unwittingly, your worst fear.

It was a dirty and unpleasant trick that couldn’t be justified by anything, not even by her sick mind. She had gone too far and your heart was reeling with doubts. That night was horrible, you could barely sleep.

Going down from the guest room was something you simply didn’t want to do. You were terrified, you were afraid that the rage would consume the lady in black again, that she would make you pay for having said all those things to her. You were never so afraid of her as at that moment. Getting away from her was your best option.

Leaving the mansion was hasty. Although reluctant, your heart refused to stop loving her. Waiting a while and clearing your mind was the best thing you could do.

Two days passed like this, two days in which you opened your door often, looking at the portrait, making sure that nothing had changed, that this nightmare wouldn’t return.

Hunger didn’t matter. Your mind was too busy making a decision.

Donna was dangerous, and you knew it, you knew it when you agreed to have tea with her, when you kissed her, when you moved in with her. In all that time they only seemed like absurd rumors to you, until that moment.

Yes, Donna was jealous, arrogant and cold. Her gestures of affection were common, but many times she made you understand your excessive displays of affection were too much for her. You didn’t blame her for that, of course, you knew her past, her terrible childhood, her terrible loneliness.

Loneliness... that characteristic of the lady in black was what triggered that nightmare. You regretted your words, but pride prevented you from facing Donna, from facing your fears. She said she would never hurt you, but she did, whether she meant to or not. Or maybe, maybe it was you who hurt her without realizing it, who talked too much, who downplayed all her problems.

Donna's attitude that horrible day began to make sense in your head. You knew her. You knew that some days were bad, that her mind tortured her sometimes, just to make fun of her. You were so intent on knowing her, on asking her, on loving her, that maybe you had forgotten the most important thing, taking care of her, just like you promised.

Instead of making a fool of yourself, messing with her sister and insisting to do something different, you should have hugged her, interpreted the signs that told you that Donna wasn’t having a good day, and that she needed you, she really needed you.

Sure of the idea of ​​not looking like a sick woman, Donna held on to her pride; she would never tell you she needed your comfort, to calm the horrible voices in her head. Normally you noticed these signs and acted, but that day you didn't.

Could it be that in some way you were to blame too? After all, you said something horrible to her and she could only defend herself in the only way she knew how.

Your stomach growled, pulling you out of your thoughts. You had spent too much time in that room. It was time to go down.

Slowly you opened the door, looking, as always, at the portrait. Everything seemed to be in its place, except for a horrible silence.

“Hello? Donna? Angie?” you asked timidly, peeking into the living room. It was empty, there was no one there. “Donna?”

No one answered your call, so, nervous, you decided to go to the elevator.

“She's probably in the workshop with her dolls,” you muttered to yourself, silencing your fears.

The light in the cabin flickered, causing you to jump and making you hit the lamp softly, panting.

“Damn light…” you complained, arriving at the basement calmly, without horrible falls.

You took a step forward and your blood froze. That horrible vision of your nightmare returned.

The lamps were smashed, the furniture knocked over, everything was a mess. You walked cautiously down the hallway, checking how all the paintings were torn, broken. Fear took over you, but Donna was your target, it didn't matter if it was another hallucination.

The mirror in the corner was broken into a thousand pieces. You passed your hand over it, noticing a few drops of blood.

“Donna...” you sighed, focusing your gaze on the doors of the workshop, checking that the lights didn't disappear.

“And then I told her I'm just an idiot, I have no more stories to tell...” An erratic babbling reached your ears, confirming the presence of the lady.

Little by little you opened the door, finding a desolate scenario.

Everything was thrown on the floor. There were broken dolls, glasses… as if a tornado had devastated that place, a tornado with a name and surname: Donna Beneviento.

The lady in black was cornered, laughing with a nervous expression, with her eye wide open and her hand with a stain of dried blood, surely because the broken mirror.

“Yes, ma'am, tell me how can I leave you today ma'am, I have lost you, you are, idiot, you are…” she continued, absent, unhinged, erratic, completely lost. “Stupida, stupida, stupida!”

“Shhh, Donna…” you whispered, approaching slowly.

The lady fell silent and looked at you slowly, blinking several times.

“You…” she hissed, approaching you abruptly, something that made you unconsciously step back. “You're running away from me!”

“I-I'm sorry, I…” you said fearfully, gathering enough courage to approach, realizing that the Angie doll was lying lifeless on the floor.

Donna's crisis had been so bad that even her doll lost her consciousness.

“You're not here! Have you come to torment me?! Do you want me to throw myself off the waterfall?! I will!” she screamed madly, covering her ears. “I will!”

“Shhh, Donna, don't say…” you said, taking her hands away from her face deformed by rage and tears. “Shhh, listen to me… I'm here,” you said softly.

“You're dead! I killed you!” Donna screamed, looking at you with distrust.

You, with tears in your eyes, shook your head, reaching out your hand to her cheek, caressing it in a comforting way.

“Shhh, be quiet, my love… I'm here, see? Do you feel my hand, darling? I'm here with you…” you whispered, getting closer while you caressed her, trying to calm her demons.

“You left,” she said, lowering her head but keeping her eye on yours.

“No, no Donna, I never left, I just…” you said with a sweet voice. “Oh, darling… my love, come to your senses, I’m here with you, I would never leave you…”

“You’re scared of me, you said you were scared of me,” she said, blinking nervously again. “I scared you.”

“Yes, but… Donna, I…” you said, being careful with your words. “I didn’t behave well either. I shouldn’t have said that horrible thing and… yes, I was scared but… but…”

The lady moved quickly, taking your hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.

“I would never hurt you, never!” she squealed desperately. “Never…”

“Shhh, I know, I know…” you whispered, bringing her body closer to yours, releasing yourself from her grip and burying her head in your chest, cradling her sweetly. “Donna, my Donna…”

“I’m sorry,” the lady said, clinging to your clothes, wetting them with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Shhh, don't shout, my precious Donna... it's over, I forgive you, it's okay...” you whispered in her ear, feeling her warm embrace as the end of your worries, of your fears. “We both behaved like idiots... forgive me, my love... forgive me for not being there when you needed me.”

“I-I promise I won't do it again,” she whispered, with a childish voice, letting herself be cradled, raising her gaze. “I promise.”

“I believe you, darling, come here...” you murmured, moving her head so her salty lips rested on yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she repeated, caressing your cheek, with a different light on her face. “I love you, I love you, I love you...”

A strange sound brought you out of that romantic reconciliation.

“As I was saying, silly Donna, you've screwed things up in the worst possible way and…” the Angie doll stood up, coming back to life as her owner's heart calmed down. “Wait, what happened?”

“Nothing,” she said, still looking and caressing you. “Everything's okay, right?”

“Yes,” you said smiling, returning her caresses. “Now, darling, let's go heal those wounds and maybe you'll want me to make dinner…”

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

You fall ill despite the energon in your possession. Emily convinced you to have you checked, and seeing no better option, you agree. You then end up meeting other kinds of robots, robots who were friends with humans.

Warnings: you being seriously ill, possibly infected wound, running away, getting chased, and losing consciousness.

Chapter 8

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

Something was wrong. Sleeping helped regain some strength but your headache and upset stomach were worse than ever before. You did not even dare to eat more of the energon, fearing it might cause the stomach pain to become worse. You felt weak, incredibly weak. Even the bruise beneath your arm began to ache more, and you now regretted hitting yourself in the chest with a rock because the dents now made it uncomfortable. 

When the morning came, you didn’t even have the energy to transform into the robot form when Emily came to check on you. She noticed immediately that something was not right with you and you explained how you were feeling right now. 

“(Name). This is serious. Maybe we should check with a mechanic to get that bruise batched up and see if that blue stuff and the oils are actually causing you to have some kind of food poisoning,” she said. 

“But would they know how to fix me? I am a car that can turn into a robot,” you questioned, still in your car form. 

“Exactly, you are a car made out of metal and car parts. You can stay in your car form while a mechanic can look into you and see what’s wrong,” Emily replied, taking a sip from her coffee. 

You groaned. The idea of someone opening you and looking at your insides did not appeal to you at all. However, she made sense. 

“I can ask my uncle to take a look at you. He’s a mechanic at the local repair shop,” Emily stated. “I’m sure he can at least provide an insight what might be wrong wih you as the car expert, or at least patch up the bruise and dents,” she added. 

“You have relatives everywhere,” you commented. 

“Jasper is a small place,” Emily smiled. “I’ll go dress up and grab something to eat, then we’ll go,” she walked back into her house. 

You groaned as you felt like shit with your headache and aching joints. 

After Emily dressed up and had her breakfast, you drove through the streets. Luckily, you had enough energy to drive to the repair shop where Emily’s uncle worked. Your speed was slow. You just didn’t have the strength and energy to speed up.

“Hey, just to avoid any of those robots who might recognize you. How about we find a new look for you?” Emily asked. 

“Maybe. But do you really think adding paint makes me unrecognizable?” you questioned skeptically. 

“We’ll we gotta try at least. We never know if you don’t do it,” she said as you arrived at the repair shop. 

You opened the door for Emily as she stepped out. She then closed it and looked toward you. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go see if my uncle is free to take a look at you,” she explained. 

You hummed in response, struggling to stay awake. 

“It won’t take long. Now, stay put,” Emily then walked into the repair shop and talked to a man you assumed to be her uncle. You had met her family a few times, but she still had relatives you never seen before. 

You tried to rest your mind while waiting. However, you soon started to feel paranoid. You felt exposed and like something was going to happen. 

You suddenly heard an engine and used your rear mirror to look behind you. You felt the blood in your pumps go cold when you saw a familiar yellow car standing some distance away from you, and this time there was also a blue bike. You saw a boy in a helmet look your way from the top of the bike and another smaller boy inside the yellow car. You had a bad feeling. Why were they looking your way? 

You then heard the doorbell and saw Emily walk toward your way. 

“Alright, my uncle said he has time. So, let’s get you into the shop,” she said, standing at your window. 

“Uhm… Em,” You said when you saw the two boys run toward you, or Emily specifically. 

“Emily!” the taller boy said, catching Emily’s attention. 

“Jack! Raf! I haven’t seen you since the summer break. How are you two?” Emily greeted them with a smile. You felt nervous. It was not shocking that she knew the two. You only regognized the little boy, Raf, having met him before. You were more nervous about the yellow car and the blue bike that now stood away from the repair shop, like they were waiting for something.  

“Good. How was your summer?” Raf asked, thought a bit awkwardly. You noticed how he looked toward you, or the symbol on your steering wheel. You began to feel more anxious. Did he know you were a robot? 

“Oh! It had been a wild one. You won’t even believe half of the things that happened,” Emily replied. 

“Anyway, Emily. Nice new car. Where did you get it?” the taller boy, Jack, asked. 

“Oh, it was a gift from my dad. He got lucky and gave it to me as a graduation gift since I already have a driver’s license, and I am more than happy with this girl,” Emily answered, then looked at the dents on you. “But as you can see I had a little accident on the road. I just asked my uncle if he take a look at her,” she explained. 

“Okay…” Jack said though nervously. Raf nudged him on the side and Jack then looked at the symbol on your wheel. You struggled to stay calm. They definitely knew something. 

“Emily. This might sound weird, but this is a not the kind of car you should have,” Jack suddenly said. You silently gulped. He knew. You called it. 

“What are you talking about? I had this car for two months now,” Emily replied with a raised brow. 

“It’s a… bad type of car. You know… maybe we should talk about this somewhere else, away from that,” he motioned at you. You felt too scared to be insulted. 

Emily scoffed. “Jack. I don’t know what you are talking about. We can talk about bad car brands some other time because I need to get my girl fixed. So, if you excuse me,” she opened your door and sat on your seat. 

“You have to trust me. You should not be inside this thing,” Jack insisted. 

“First of all, do not call my girl a thing. That’s rude. And second, I’m busy, we can’t talk about it later. Now step to the side,” Emily said as she put on the seat belt and you slowly drived away from the parking lot. 

You tried to keep calm and enter the repair shop, but when you saw the bike and the car move on their own, you hit the engine and quickly drove to the road. Emily yelped as you then speeded as fast as you could from the yellow car and the blue bike. 

You saw the two boys quickly run to the vehicles and chase after you. 

“Wow! (Name)! What’s the matter? Why are you driving away?” Emily asked.  

“We are being followed!” you exclaimed as you moved the rear mirror to show the yellow car and the blue bike following you. 

“I’ve seen that yellow car before, and they moved by themselves when those two boys weren’t there,” you explained. 

“You think they’re robots? But why would Jack and Raf be with them then?” Emily looked behind you. “I don’t know but I am not risking it to find out if they are friendly!” you said as you tried to speed up. 

You tried to drive away from them, making turns and trying to get them off your tail. You managed to to lose them for a moment, but the yellow car caught up to you quickly. It was fast and clearly trying to block your way out of town. Due to your current condition, you were not able to go fast.

It was a chase through the town. 

“I can’t lose them,” You uttered as the car and bike were high on your tail. 

“(Name)! If they are with Jack and Raf, then maybe they are friendly, unlike those who tried to hurt us,” Emily explained. “They could help you,” 

“I don’t know about that,” You said. 

“Let me try to talk them first. Pull over to the hidden alley street. I’ll confront them,”  she said as you then drove quickly into the street and out of their sight. You parked in a hidden corner and Emily jumped out. 

“Stay here. If they do something, I scream,” she said. 

“Okay,” you said even thought personally you would not let her go on her own.

Emilia stood calmly in the middle of the alleyway, watching as the yellow car and blue bike turned and stopped at the sight of her. She did not feel much fear, especially when Jack and Raf were with them. They got out of the vehicles and run to her. 

“Emily, are you okay? You didn’t get hurt?” Jack asked worriedly. 

“I’m fine. The better question is… why are you two following us?” she pointed at him. 

“And Raf, aren’t you a bit too young to drive on a car like that?” she pointed at the younger boy. 

“Well, isn’t it obvious we thought you were getting kidnapped,” Jack explained. “Wait… did you say ‘us’?” he asked. 

“You know your car is a con?” Raf questioned. 

“Oh, I don’t know much about these cons you are talking about,” Emily said and then sighed.  “If they’re the bad robots. I can assure you it's not like that.” she explained. 

“What?” The boys looked at each other confused. 

“Let me guess. These are also robots who can transform into vehicles,” Emily pointed at the car and the bike. “I also know that they’re from space,” she added. 

“The real question is what are you two doing with them and are they bad robots?” she looked at Jack and Raf. 

“Well…” Raf struggled but then the blue bike started talking with a female voice. 

“We’re not here to hurt you. We got concerned when the boys confirmed you were with a Decepticon,” the blue bike explained. Then the yellow car started beeping, which Emily couldn’t understand. 

“A Decepticon? So they’re the bad bots?” she questioned. 

“Yes. These two are Autobots. The good robots who are at war with the Decepticons,” Jack cleared out. 

“Aha. Well, now it makes sense” Emily nodded. 

“I can assure you that (Name) is not a Decepticon,” she said. 

“(Name)?” the boys question. 

“It’s complicated to explain. Do you remember my friend (Name) (Last name), a quiet person, seems sometimes pissed off, you two actually met her last summer when she came to spend it with me after the summer camp?” she questioned. 

“I think I remember her.. didn’t you once come to the fast food place at the time?” Jack asked. 

“We did,” Emily nodded. 

“Oh, you actually brought her along to a family gathering. She was really nice” Raf said. 

“Good. Now have you heard about the news about the tragic accident in the summer camp I went to?” she asked. 

“Yeah, some camper fell from a cliff and passed away,” Jack explained. 

“Yeah. That’s how it seemed, but that camper was my friend (Name),” Emily said. 

“What?” the boys looked at her shocked. 

“Long story short, we went to investigate strange sounds that came from the Lynx Wood mountains. (Name) fell when the mountain started shaking. She survived the fall and found one of these Decepticon mines,” Emily explained. “She was then found, but then this alien machine showed up and caused her to switch bodies with the con,” 

“How… how do you know that?” Jack asked. 

“She told me and because she is now a giant purple robot,” Emily replied. “I’ve been trying to help her and now she’s fallen sick,”  

“She’s sick. Where is (Name) now?” Raf asked. 

“She’s hiding. I wanted to see if you wished her harm,” Emily looked at the yellow car and the motorcycle. 

“Well… if this con is really your friend, then maybe Team Prime could help her,” Jack suggested. 

“Jack. How do we know she’s telling the truth and it's not a Decepticon trick?” the blue bike asked. 

“Well, blue bike. If you must know, me and (Name) nearly got smoked yesterday when we went to look for this thing called energon and found one of the Decepticon mines,” Emily said with her hands on her hips. 

“You went to a Decepticon mine?!” Raf asked. 

“Yeah. We wanted to try to find energon because (Name) hadn’t had it since the day she was turned, and that was two months ago. We thought oil could help as a fuel but it had only made her sick,” Emily explained. 

The yellow car beebed. 

“That is a long time being online without energon,” the blue bike stated.

“I am telling the truth,” Emily said. 

Jack then turned toward the blue bike. “Arcee, I know Emily. She never lies unless its for a good reason and you saw the con only trying to run away. We should help them,” he said. 

The yellow car beebed again, and the blue bike sighed. 

“Fine. If you come with us, we can help your friend,” she said. 

“Alrighty then. You better not hurt her,” Emily turned toward the alley where you were hidden. 

“(Name)! It’s alright! They’re friendly! They want to meet you so come out!” she called out. 

You reluctantly drove out of your hiding spot and toward them. The yellow car and the blue bike suddenly transformed, causing you to back away a second. 

“It’s okay. Show them,” Emily assured and then you transformed. 

You then stared at them with caution. The boys and the robots seemed surprised to see your face. 

“Uh…Hi…” you said awkwardly. 

“That voice. It is really you (Name)?” Raf looked at you. 

“Hey, Raf. Long time no see,” you said. 

“Well, I guess we can now believe you,” the smaller robot said. 

The yellow robot said something. You didn’t understand since it was a series of beebs and whirls. 

“So what say you? We’ll take them to the base?” Jack looked toward the blue robot. 

A sudden pang of pain struck your head. Your vision became blurry and you started to feel dizzy, causing you to sway from side to side. 

“(Name). What’s wrong?” Emily asked worriedly. 

“I don’t feel so good,” you uttered. 

You then lost consciousness. Emily yelped as you slammed against the road, passing out. Her voice vanished from your ears and you were embraced by darkness. The last thing you heard was Emily pleading with the robots to help you and one of them talking about a ground bridge.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Two

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: unrequited love, self doubt

A/N: I dont do taglists they stress me out sorry 🫶🏻

Part One

The next morning, you’re yawning over a mug of coffee when Natasha walks into the cafe, a knowing glint in her eye as she slides into the seat across from you.

“Long night?” she asks, eyeing the bags under your eyes.

You shrug, not really wanting to get into it. “Just the usual. Bucky brought up Kate, though.”

“Ah.” Nat nods, her gaze softening. “And how do we feel about this Kate?”

You stare at your coffee, stirring it unnecessarily. “She’s… perfect. Of course. Just what he’d want.”

Nat sighs, leaning in. “Look, I get that you’ve been telling yourself he’ll come around, but maybe it’s time to look out for you instead.”

“I know,” you say quickly, but Nat raises an eyebrow, not letting you off the hook so easily.

“Do you?” she presses. “Because staying with him, being his friend while you wait for him to suddenly wake up one day and realize how he feels about you… that’s not fair to you babe.”

You blink down at your coffee, her words digging deeper than you want to admit. “But I can’t just walk away from him.”

“Maybe you don’t have to walk away completely,” she says gently, “but sometimes, you’ve got to put yourself first. Even if that means some distance.”

The thought of moving out feels like tearing away a piece of yourself. This apartment, these late nights with Bucky, the little rituals and inside jokes… they’re home. But the idea of watching him bring Kate deeper into your world, of hearing about every date, every moment, knowing you’re just a friend—that thought feels like something you might not survive.

You nod, though you’re not sure if it’s to Nat or to yourself. “I’ll think about it,” you say, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Nat gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just remember, you’re not invisible, not to everyone.”

Natasha’s fingers drum lightly on the table, her gaze fixed on you with that discerning look she wears when she knows you’re holding back. “You know,” she starts, her voice almost playful, “I could set you up with this guy I know from work. He’s got that ‘I could kill you with my pinky but won’t’ vibe. Smart, good-looking. You’d like him.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nat, no offense, but I don’t need a pity date right now.”

“Who said anything about pity?” She smirks. “I just think you need a distraction. You deserve someone who’s actually looking at you.”

Her words hang in the air, and though you try to brush it off, the weight of them settles on you. “Maybe,” you admit, chewing on your lip. “It’s just… Bucky’s been in my life for so long. It’s hard to picture letting anyone else in.”

Natasha’s expression softens, understanding in her eyes. “That’s the thing with comfort zones—they feel like safe havens, but they can also be prisons. And I don’t think you want to be locked in a place where you’re always second to someone else.”

Your heart aches at the truth of her words, but you manage a half-hearted smile. “When did you get so wise?”

She rolls her eyes, pretending to brush imaginary dust off her shoulder. “I’ve always been wise, you’re just finally listening.” She pauses, then tilts her head, as if she’s remembering something. “So, tell me—why haven’t I met this Kate before? Didn’t we all go to the same college?”

You shrug, looking down at your coffee as if it holds the answer. “She and Bucky had one class together, last year. That was it. We never really hung out with her… or anyone he dated, really.”

Nat nods slowly, piecing things together. “So, she was part of your little world, just on the outside. And now…” She lets the sentence trail off, understanding that this is different, even for Bucky.

“Yeah,” you murmur, feeling that ache return. “Now, it feels like she’s pushing her way into something that used to be… ours. My life with him.”

Natasha leans back, her gaze sharp but empathetic. “Maybe she is. But that doesn’t change who you are to him. And it doesn’t mean you have to let yourself be pushed aside. Just… remember, you’ve got people who see you, really see you.” She gives you a small smile. “Like me, and Steve, Sam and Wanda.”

You swallow, a knot of gratitude and sadness in your chest. “Thanks, Nat.”

“Of course.” She reaches for her cup, taking a sip before giving you another mischievous smile. “But I’m still setting up that date. You need someone who’s going to look at you like you’re the only person in the room.”

You laugh, but something about her words sticks with you.

Back at the apartment, Bucky’s in the kitchen, humming to himself as he attempts to cook. You lean against the doorway, watching him juggle the spatula and frying pan, the sight as familiar as it is painful. He catches you staring and flashes a grin, waving the spatula with a playful twirl.

“Caught you,” he teases, his blue eyes dancing. “What’s up, creep?”

You place a hand on your chest in mock offence, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Creep? Ouch, Buck.”

He laughs, his head tilting as he gives you that roguish smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.” He clears his throat and corrects himself, “What’s up, doll?”

There it is again. That name that no one else calls you—just him. And every time he says it, it feels like he’s pulling you close, holding you in his orbit. You try to ignore the way your heart flutters, pushing it down. “Better,” you respond, with a forced lightness, trying to keep things playful. “Just wondering how much of a disaster you’re about to make.”

He scoffs, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a culinary genius.”

“Sure, and pigs fly.” You smirk, stepping into the kitchen to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder as he focuses on flipping whatever’s in the pan.

He rolls his eyes, but there’s that look again—the one that feels like he’s studying every detail of your face, like he’s seeing you as more than just his best friend, even if it’s only for a second. “Seriously, though,” he says softly, his gaze meeting yours, “thanks for putting up with me, couldn’t ask for a better best friend.”

You swallow, feeling that flicker of hope you know you shouldn’t hold onto, quashed in an instant. Best friend. You manage a small smile, not trusting your voice to sound casual. “Couldn’t ask for a better one, either.”

But even as you say it, you can’t ignore the ache in your chest. The line between you has been so blurred over the years, with the easy touches, the names he only calls you, the looks that feel like something more—until they’re not. Because he never seems to notice the way he lingers too close, or how his teasing feels like something deeper. Maybe, you think, it’s time to face that your friendship is just that: a friendship.

Lost in thought, you don’t realize Bucky’s speaking again until he nudges your shoulder, his voice low and warm. “Earth to y/n?,” he murmurs, breaking your reverie. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Just… thinking,” you reply, smiling faintly as you avert your gaze. He leans down, peering up at you, an amused expression on his face, like he’s trying to coax you out of your thoughts.

“About me, obviously,” he quips, flashing a wink. “Go on, I get it—hard not to think about this face.”

You laugh despite yourself, the sound spilling out before you can stop it. “Don’t flatter yourself Buck.”

He grins, reaching over and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a gesture so casual but so personal that it sends your heart racing. His hand lingers, his thumb brushing against your cheek for just a beat too long before he pulls away. “Can’t help it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me, doll.”

Your heart skips, and you force a laugh, hoping it sounds natural. “Get over yourself, Barnes. You’re lucky I even let you call me that.”

He chuckles, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, still looking at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room. It’s moments like these, the soft laughter, the playful teasing, that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, there could be something more—until reality crashes down with the way he looks away, casual as ever, turning back to his cooking.

“So, what do you say?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “We take off next weekend, you and me? Get out of the city, do something stupid?”

He says it so easily, the idea of just dropping everything and being with you. It’s the kind of offer that would mean the world if it came from anyone else, but with Bucky, you know it’s just him being Bucky—your best friend who doesn’t know the half of what’s inside your heart. You nod, forcing another smile, feeling like you’re breaking in two. “Yeah… sounds good.”

He grins, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, a softness that makes your pulse quicken. “That’s my girl.”

The words are simple, tossed out casually as he stirs the pan, but they hit you like a punch to the gut. His girl. The irony isn’t lost on you—that’s all you’ll ever be. Watching him turn back to the stove, humming again, you wonder if it’s finally time to start protecting your heart, even if it means letting go of this impossible hope.

You stay quiet, watching him as he finishes cooking, every movement so familiar that it aches. The way he hums off-key, that little wrinkle in his brow when he’s focused. And yet, with each passing second, you feel the weight of Natasha’s words from the morning before. Putting yourself first. Even if that means some distance.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice when Bucky turns around until he nudges your arm, holding out a plate with a lopsided grin. “For you, my culinary masterpiece.”

You smile and take the plate, though you barely feel the hunger anymore. “Thanks, Buck.”

He tilts his head, squinting at you, studying you the way he always does when he senses something’s off. “What’s up with you, doll? You’ve been quiet.”

You quickly shake your head, putting on a brighter smile. “Nothing, just… tired.”

It’s a half-truth, and from the way he’s looking at you, you know he can tell. But he just nods, brushing it off as he leans against the counter beside you. “Well, you should get some rest, maybe skip that shift tomorrow. I don’t like seeing you so run down…plus its the 2nd Friday of the month you know what that means”

The concern in his voice stirs something painful in you, and you bite your lip to keep it together. Because it’s just like him to care, to look after you like this, but never in the way you want. You manage a nod and quiet “I know, bar night” not trusting yourself to say much else.

But Bucky, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart, reaches out, ruffling your hair with that effortless smile. “I mean it, you work too hard. You’re allowed to take it easy sometimes, you know?”

Your smile wavers, and you look down at your plate, poking at the food to avoid his eyes. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

There’s a comfortable silence as the two of you eat, and for a moment, you let yourself forget the ache, just enjoying this small, simple moment. But then he starts talking about his weekend plans, and you feel the familiar twist of jealousy when he casually mentions Kate. How she texted him about some new art exhibit, how they’ll probably grab lunch afterward. Each word feels like a pin prick, a reminder that he’s drifting further away, letting someone else into a space that you’ve guarded for so long.

You take a steadying breath and look up at him, forcing yourself to speak casually. “So… you and Kate, huh? Sounds like things are getting serious..”

Bucky laughs, but there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. “Nah, I don’t know. She’s cool, but… you know me. Not exactly the settling-down type.”

The words sting, but you force yourself to smile. “Right, of course. Why settle when you’ve got the world at your feet?”

He chuckles, taking another bite, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. But then he glances over, catching the faint trace of something in your expression, and for a split second, his smile falters. “Hey… seriously, are you okay? You’re not your usual self.”

You force a laugh, waving him off. “I’m fine, Buck. Just… I dunno. Life, I guess.”

He watches you, a furrow between his brows as if he’s trying to piece together something he’s missing. And for a split second, you almost consider telling him. Telling him everything—that you’re tired of waiting, tired of pretending, tired of being his second choice. But before you can even open your mouth, he sighs and reaches over, squeezing your shoulder.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he says softly. “Whatever it is… I’m here.”

The tenderness in his voice is almost too much, and you have to look away before he can see the tears threatening to spill. “Yeah, I know….of course”

There’s another silence, and he finally pulls his hand away, turning his attention back to his food. You sit there beside him, the air thick with unsaid words, wondering how much longer you can keep this up.

When you finish eating, you start gathering the dishes, feeling the need to escape the kitchen, escape the weight of his presence. But Bucky stops you, taking the plate from your hands.

“I’ve got it,” he says, nudging you toward the living room. “Go relax, i’ll clean up.”

You give him a small smile, grateful for the reprieve, and you make your way to the couch, curling up with a blanket. But as you sit there, staring at the flickering light of the TV, you realize with a sinking heart that this—him, the late nights, the quiet moments—has become everything to you. And that maybe, no matter how much you want it, he’ll never feel the same.

From the kitchen, you hear Bucky humming again, blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside you. And as you pull the blanket tighter, Natasha’s words echo in your mind: Sometimes, you’ve got to put yourself first. Even if that means some distance.