#manicure with deer

[onlinesweetheart]

<3

[i-appear-misssing]

So like

[kngrose]

imagine a situationship with sevika

WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, drinking, bi! reader but wlw, eventual smut, modern au

AN: i have way too many thoughts about this— this will have multiple parts ^^

It wasn’t supposed to happen. You didn’t plan for it. But somewhere along the line, something changed. Your relationship had gotten too… comfortable. At first, the changes were subtle; He wasn’t saying anything outlandish, nothing to make you question your relationship.

But there were small instances, ones where he’d forget plans you made, or when he’d linger on his phone a little longer than usual in your company. You told yourself it was nothing; he might just be a little more stressed than usual– maybe there’s something personal he’s going through.

But as time passed, the pattern became clearer. Conversations that used to flow easily were now strained, almost forced, filled with half-hearted responses. He didn't pick up on the little things anymore; your new manicure or your haircut you had gotten to perfectly frame your face, in hopes that he would notice.

He wouldn’t be as passionate anymore, the fire he once held slowly dimming before your eyes. It was disheartening. The spark that once kept your relationship alive is fading, and you're left with a gnawing feeling of emptiness that you can’t quite explain.

And then there was her.

It wasn’t anything too large, the event. Just a kickback amongst some of your shared friends and some extras they’d invited. You’d tagged along with your boyfriend who’d long forgotten about you, chopping it up with a few of the guys on the couch. You felt a sour twinge in your gut as you sat beside him; this is the most enthusiasm he’s shown in weeks.

You’d noticed her in your solitude; shooting you glances across the room. Similar to you, she hadn’t said much of anything, just idly man-spread on the neighboring couch, red cup held loosely in her hand. You’ve never seen her before… you wonder whose friend she is.

You can't help but return the glances– look at her. Her broad shoulders, her thighs, her hands decorated with rings. The piercings that decorate her face. Those eyes, assessing you as she circles the rim of her cup with an index finger, a little smirk forming on her dark lips.

How could you help it– when she’s just radiating with unspoken confidence? It’s captivating, drawing you in like a deer in headlights. There’s a sharpness in her eyes that unsettles you, and yet, something about it excites you. She’s not like anyone you’ve ever seen.

You realized later that she was just waiting. Waiting for your boyfriend to excuse himself so she could move in. It’ll make you wonder later, how much of this she premeditated. It doesn’t take her long to approach you when he leaves, sliding into the spot next to you curtly, smirking as she meets your eyes. She’s beautiful up close.

She’s looking at you with that calculating gaze, making it clear she’s intrigued. She scans your face up and down, “Like your hair… suits you.”

Her voice was deep, commanding, like she had the power to bend the world to her will. You feel your cheeks warm under her gaze, touching your hair softly. “Thank you.” You manage to retort, embarrassingly glancing away. When you shot your eyes back to hers your breath got caught in your chest, her gaze is unwavering. A chuckle rumbles from her throat, “You’re cute.”

But it's not just the look—it’s the way she speaks to you. It’s amazing how easily she manages to fluster you, it’s effortless. Sevika, you learn that her name is, charms you with her dry humor and college stories, entertaining you the entirety of the night.

She tells you about all of the petty fights she’s been in, and all of her run ins with the police. Some of which are so descriptive you have to wonder if she’s being generous with the details. All the while she’s charming you up, placing a hand on your knee, then to your thigh, drawing small circles. You take note of the way she seems to fixate on your hair, constantly moving it from your face or twisting the strands between her fingers.

The flirtation feels different—darker. Her voice rumbles with a kind of quiet power, and when her hand brushes against yours, it lingers just a little too long. You want to pull away, but instead, you stay. The tension builds, and despite your better judgment, a part of you is drawn to it. To her.

You wish you could go back in time and slap yourself. You knew better than to get yourself alone with this girl, this freakishly charismatic, freakishly, randomly attractive girl. But you let her lead you away to a secluded hallway of the house, her excuse being the music was too loud.

And she continued conversing with you, leaning against the wall and swallowing down the rest of the cup. She huffed out something between a scoff and a laugh, “You a nanny or somethin’?” You shot her a confused look in response. She looked down, nodding her head towards the red cup in your hand. “You’re babysitting.” 

“Oh, this…” You mutter, swirling the drink around plainly. “Not much of a drinker.” You notice the roll of her eyes as she pushes herself off the wall and your breath hitches as she closes in on you. She pulls the cup from your hand, raising a large hand to your chin to tilt your head back. You barely manage to sputter, “What are you doing–!” before she orders you to, “Open,” nudging your chin softly.

You lock eyes with her for the umpteenth time, her eyes filled with something different this time around. You hesitantly part your lips, allowing her to pour the rest of the content into your mouth. There’s a soft groan leaving her mouth as she watches some of it spill from the corner of your lips down your chin.

The way her eyes lingered on your lips made your heart race. You were suddenly aware of how close you were, how her scent filled your senses, how her gaze felt like a slow burn.

You don’t say anything, but you can feel the heat between you both, the pull that’s been growing stronger with each passing second. Before you know it, she’s kissing you—rough and urgent, her hands gripping your hips with a hunger that matches the storm brewing inside you. Her kiss is overwhelming, like a fire that consumes you whole. You melt into it, into her, not thinking about the consequences, not thinking about him.

The moment ends just as quickly as it began, but the aftershocks are impossible to ignore. You stand there, breathless, disoriented, and yet, there’s a part of you that doesn’t regret it. It feels raw, real, and alive in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

You pull away from Sevika, your chest tight with confusion and shame. But Sevika just watches you, unfazed. There’s no sympathy in her gaze, in fact, all you could register was a sly smirk on her lips. Sevika moves to stand close to you, her presence overwhelming, wrapping a hand around your throat, "What's holding you back?" she mumbles against your lips.

And in that moment, you realize that nothing is holding you back. You’ve already made your choice without even knowing it.

There’s no turning back now.  

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[donatellawritings]

if requests(?) are open what do you think about bff!rafe whos absolutely down bad for reader ☺️

bff!rafe is honestly the most obsessive man ever and has no sense of boundaries ngl

truth be told, you and rafe haven’t even known each other that long, barely a year, to be exact. when you had moved into the pretty little baby blue house that overlooked the busy docks and calm waters, rafe had just made his long overdue return to figure 8. you were fresh out of college, and as free as a baby bird — with a somewhat matured rafe who was patiently waiting on the perfect moment to swoop in and teach you to to fly — his way.

you see, rafe was the man of his family now, and as the leading man of the cameron lineage, he had no choice, but to become painfully aware of the damage he could cause. you shared the likeness of a baby deer — naive, dainty, and a little too welcoming … much to your own detriment, at times.

so, rafe took it upon himself to take you under his wing, making sure that he always had you in his line of vision. i mean, if he didn’t look out for you, who knows what kind of trouble you’d get into? which is exactly why he settled for being your best friend in the whole world, as you like to say — that is, until you’d finally snap out of the pink tinted dreamland you seemed to live in, and realize that you were better off just being his — being rafe’s girl.

“y’wanna try some?” you hummed, your manicured hand holding out the wand of your new tube of dior gloss as you mushed your swollen lips together, puckering your now shimmery lips in the mirror as you adored your new lipgloss.

met with silence, you rolled your eyes as rafe remained stood tall and authoritative behind you, his eyebrows furrowed as he fiddled with the collar of his polo shirt, “c’mon, kid — don’t have time to play games,” he shrugged his shoulders, before nudging the side of your jaw with the side of his ringed finger.

to anyone who wasn’t aware of your unique dynamic with rafe — the sight of a young girl dressed in nothing, but a mesh bralette that displayed her hard nipples and tiny silk shorts that sucked up into her ass, a bit bent over a vanity with a much taller man’s tented crotch ghosting right behind the curve of her ass, would be pretty incriminating.

but, in your eyes, it was just you and rafey, your very best friend in the entire world.

leaning back onto the balls of your sore feet, you completely missed the way rafe took in the ripple of your asscheeks as you let out an entitled huff, “i don’t want to go golfing,” you mumble, your arms crossed firmly across your swelled tits as you send rafe a bratty frown in the mirror.

mocking your bratty behavior with an exaggerated pout, rafe lets out a feigned whimper, “aw, baby doesn’t wanna hang out with rafey anymore?”

shoving the gloss-coated wand into the tube, you toss it onto the vanity, your bouncy blown-out hair whipping against rafe’s chest as you push your weak palm into rafe’s hard torso, earning another condescending laugh from the blue-eyed man, “i don’t want to hang out with you, anymore,” you announce, eyes glazed with frustrated tears.

“y’sure? got lots of pretty girls who would love for me to be their best friend,” rafe cocks his head to the side, a knowing smirk tugging on his pink lips as he watches you carefully think about your next words.

with a hesitant nod, you sniffle, “i’m sure.”

“okay — i’ll miss you, princess,”

your doe eyes widened with genuine concern as rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, before taking a few steps backwards from you, turning to reach for the handle of your bedroom door. he can’t leave — you were only kidding!

“stop! i was just kidding,” you panic, perky tits bouncing as you rush over to rafe who is biting back a cocky grin.

forcing a solemn expression, rafe gently raised a ringed hand to hold your jaw, “can’t joke like that, huh? almost made me get a new best friend, pretty girl,” rafe twists the knife, his stomach growing warm and fluttery as he watches you lightly bounce on your feet, before accepting your outstretched arms as he carries you back to your pillow and squishmallow-covered bed.

“sleep over?” you questioned sweetly.

“of course, kid.”

｡⋆୨୧˚

wet lip smacks and muffled moans filled the four walls of your bedroom as you laid semi-underneath a now shirtless rafe. one leg hooked over his hip as your hands cupped each side of his strained neck. your puffy lips were nearly raw and tingly from rafe’s constant suckling and nipping at your mouth. rafe’s hand kept a light grip on your throat as he kept you engrossed in the slippery kiss, tongues dancing together wildly as rafe fucked your mouth with his.

pushing out a sleepy whine, you said your delicate hand to rafe’s collarbone, gently pushing, “rafey — m’lips hurt,” your words were jumbled as rafe groaned into your mouth, his lips continuing their relentless assault.

your sloppy little makeout sessions with rafe were a common find when it came to spending a day with him, and you didn’t see anything wrong with it — i mean, he was your best friend forever, he would never steer you in the wrong direction.

shutting you up with a slip of his tongue inside of your mouth, rafe’s hand sliding to cup your cheek as you are quick to wraps your swollen lips around his slippery tongue, gently suckling the pink muscle. you continued sucking on his tongue for a few more minutes, your mixed spit shining on the corners of your mouths and messily smeared on your chins from wet lips.

sliding a calloused, ring-clad hand to cup your soft ass underneath the silk of your shorts, rafe patted two light slaps to your skin, earning a needy moan from you as your wrapped your slick lips around his tongue once more, in a sealing kiss, “sorry — y’taste good,” you mumbled, your sore lips pulled into a sorry little pout as rafe nods knowingly, gently pulling your head to lean against his chest.

rafe never missed the way you gazed up at him, your doll eyes sparkling with adoration and respect — you never judged him, and he appreciated that.

“s’okay, kid.” he responded, mushing your cherub cheeks as your lips remain in a silly smile.

you really had the bestest friend in the whole world!

[hischokehold]

Pls pls Konig helping bunny through her first wet dream.

Dreamland.

tw: perv!könig

The sweet musk weighs heavy in the air, König barely keeping his eyes peeled while his tiny bunny pounces on him. He's struggling to maintain his consciousness, burly hands lazily wrapping around your waist.

It's been a long week, really; König being ordered by the higher ups in a solo mission to take care of some lunatic who had been obstructing their plans, or so they said. Not that he really cared about it. Asking questions weren't part of the job and as long as he was getting paid in full amounts, enough to take care of his high maintenance pet, he didn't bother to ask any.

Though, he didn't exactly expect his welcome home to turn out like this.

Tiny ah-ah-ah's jutted out of you as he slowly gained awareness of the current situation. Sharp, manicured tips press on his chest, drawing drops of blood in your selfish desire to hump your wet bunny cunt against his clothed cock. Naughty girl, taking advantage of daddy like this. You're far too gone in your own pleasure to notice his lustfilled gaze on you, glossy lips drooling all over yourself.

It was clear that this wasn't enough for you, bunny ears tucked and brows furrowed as you're unable to continue chasing your high. You tried to mimic how daddy did it! But it just didn't feel half as good no matter how much you tried.

"Daddy." You choked out, desperately dragging your hello kitty panties to the side, pressing your 'princess button' as daddy called it, on top of his painfully tight bulge.

"Tsk." He lands a spank on your bottom, the harsh tug on your fluffy tail seemingly bringing you back to Earth. "Didn't take you for a common whore, Hase. Is this how you greet daddy?" His brutish hands wrap around your throat, earning exasperated gasps from you and a choked out cry for his name. "Scheiße, du bist eine Handvoll." It was funny how you were begging now, staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Like you weren't just humping away at his daddy cock.

"M' sorry, daddy! Had a weird dream and now my—" You choke, bunny ears and cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment, "My princess parts are sticky!" You exaggerated by presenting your puffy, swollen cunt right on his face.

König mustered a low chuckle, running his calloused fingers over your folds. It doesn't surprise him one bit. König always knew what was going on in his bunny's ditsy little mind. It didn't help that mating season was merely a month away and that being around a testosterone heavy man was triggering your heat. "Does that give you the excuse to hump away at daddy's dick, bunny? Not even a kiss, hm? After all that time I spent slaving away, making money for my pet."

His harsh words drew tears from your doe eyes, guilt seeping through your cheeks. You didn't want to be ungrateful, this man gave you a cozy home, a pretty bed, and so much more. He was your savior! But but... "Couldn't help it, you feel so warm and big." You yowled, stupid bunny hips jutting against his swelling dick, tiny paws pulling against the fabric. Just a taste, daddy. Just a little bit, swear.

That's right, you were just a little girl after all. Maybe it was partly König's fault for spoiling you rotten and giving into every one of your desires but how could he say no to his darling's teary doe eyes? He stares at you like a mad man before ripping your night gown in half, much to your dismay. You don't even have time to mourn the flimsy thing as König's burly figure is mounting you, cheeks smooshing against his biceps as he pulls you into a head lock.

Your face is shoved against the pillow, warm spit landing on your tiny slit to lube you up, not that you needed it but König enjoyed how it made your button twitch in surprise.

And you feel so, so exposed like this; his monstrous tip pressing against your hole while his rough thumb circles your puffy clit. He doesn't waste any time, plunging your aching hole with his cock, claiming his prize— and you stop moving altogether, mind numbing pleasure short circuiting your little brain— "Daddy! Daddy!" All you could think of was your owner's cock inside you. "Breed me, breed me."

"Oh, fuck. Been dreaming of this tight pussy." Guttural groans rumble from his chest at your tightness, unable to stop himself from dragging his length and ramming against your gummy walls, each movement causing you to feel each and every vein.

"That's right, my baby bunny only thinks about her daddy's dick. You need daddy to do that for you, don't you, schatzi?" Little girl, you better pray for your heart and your pussy. You wanna act like a slut? Then you're gonna be treated like one." He chuckles darkly, "I'll make all those wet dreams come true, ja? Gotta make up for all the time lost."

I'm finally back 🔙🔙 your resident slut is here to bring you more fics‼️thanks for the ask, bby

[carame1bunny]

𝔉𝔞𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫

Hello dears! Here is the fourth part of my “of the season” series(?)!

Pairing: Alastor x Fem doe!reader

Summary: The two deers finally welcome their baby

Warning: childbirth, nursing, mentions of smut, pregnancy, a whole lotta fluff:)

Alastor knew one thing for sure, he couldn’t wait to meet his little fawn. To hold it in his arms, protect it. His paternal instinct went into overdrive. He suddenly remembered the way Y/N acted when she was in heat, her body being tricked into thinking that a fawn needed a mother, that a fawn needed her. The way her body was singing to him, the way she made her nest bigger at the thought of him. The way she had a bit more meat on her, he could never forget the softness of his doe. Only now… it wasn’t a trick, she really was expecting. And he had to make sure that everything went perfectly. However, as the days went by, his urges became stronger and more powerful, that only meant one thing… The fawn was due any day. And that day came soon enough…

The deers were fast asleep in their bed, limbs tangled together, but Y/N woke up to an uncomfortable sensation. She felt pressure inside of her, not necessarily painfully, but it was not comforting either. She knew it was time, she had been sensing it for a while. Her now big bump dropped a bit, her womb lowering itself so their baby has an easier time getting out. She also sensed it on herself and Alastor. Her mind constantly chanting to her. Bigger nest, bigger nest, more room for fawn, more room for fawn, fawn fawn fawn. She could barely contain her laugh when she noticed Alastor mirroring her behavior. He was as restless as her, and he spent many hours with her in their nest, their bodies just needing to bask in each other’s comforting scent and touch.

“Alastor? Darling?!” She shook him awake, she couldn’t possibly go back to sleep now.

He was instantly alert and barely sitting upright in bed, with a huge palm over her belly in protectiveness. “It’s time isn’t it?” His instincts immediately realized what was going on. “Should I call Rosie?” He already reached for the wired telephone beside them, but his mate stopped him.

“Let’s wait until we’re sure I’m in labor. It could be a false one.” She said in a soft tone, but they both knew this was the real deal. It was still best to wait a bit though, in the past two weeks, they had multiple times when they thought their baby wanted it’s arrival, but it was not it.

“You’re right, doe.” She laid on her back and his hands were already fluffing her back into the sheets and pillows. “Stay here and attempt to rest while I make you some tea.” He planted a kiss on her lips and belly before walking downstairs to make the tea. He could think while the water was heating up in the kettle. He didn’t only just wait for her to give birth so he could hold his fawn, but so she could be comfortable as before. He knew she adored being pregnant, she loved that she could protect her baby in her own womb, she was growing it and keeping it warm. But with pregnancy, came pain. It was no secret that her belly was huge, a bit bigger than usual, Rosie was the one drawing attention to it, when the deers were over for tea.

“My, my, darling.” She put her manicured palm on her swollen belly. “Well, won’t we have a blast getting this babe out! It will be a meaty one!” Y/N looked at Rosie with wide eyes.

“But there won’t be any complications, right?” She grabbed Alastor’s hand in a panic.

“There shouldn’t be any. I mean… Alastor is a tall gentleman, ain’t he, and maybe the baby will be as big as the daddy? And you are at the very end of your pregnancy.” Rosie patted his shoulder.

Alastor kissed his mate’s neck, where he bit her, and spoke in a calming tone. “Don't worry your pretty head about it, all will be well.”

He was pouring the water when he heard her shriek and a call of his name. The worst possible scenarios came to his mind, but he was somewhat relieved when he found her in their bed. At first he didn’t see the issue, until he saw the big wet spot under her, the soaked sheets. His smile crept upwards, just like her own did. She just leaned to the side and picked up the phone, calling Rosie.

Alastor needed a second before he got down to helping her. While she was on the phone, he got out warm towels and warm water to bring into the guestroom. He fluffed the bed as much as he could before going back to the bedroom. The sight waiting for him made his heart tighten, Y/N was struggling to get out of the bed because of the size of her belly. He immediately rushed to her rescue. “There, there, doe.” He got her up on her two feet and looked down between them, he only saw the belly obviously, but not for long. He got her a towel and wiped away the fluid of her womb on her skin, then helped her change into a nightgown. He sat her down into the armchair so he could quickly change their soaked bedding.

“I can help, you know.” She said from the armchair with a toothy grin.

“Ha! No.”

“I want to, and I will he—“ she suddenly felt a caress on her tummy, his shadow. It made her sit back down, enjoying the cool stroking on her warm skin. She was unaware of the shit eating grin on Alastor’s face. She was his mate, he always knew what she needed, which was perfect in her pregnant state. Her hormones made her hot always, loose dresses were completely overtaking her closet. And Alastor always made sure that they had a shit ton of ice at home.

When the bed was clean, he picked her up again and brought her to the guest room, gently putting her down on the bed. He made sure everything was in place before kneeling next to the bed beside her, taking some time to say goodbye to the bump.

He caressed and kissed her skin. “I can’t wait to meet you, my litt—“ He noticed her face screwing up and her whole body tensing. “What is it?!” He went into panic mode immediately.

“I-I think it’s the contractions. I had a few before, but they weren’t s— OW!” As if on cue, Rosie stormed into the room. Of course, looking perfect and fabulous as always.

“I see Mama is getting contractions.” She put her bags down that contained every supply that would be needed for delivering. The back of her hand came up to stroke Y/N’s forehead, an attempt to calm her down. Rosie went in front of the bed and flipped Y/N’s dress up, to see where they were. She checked her and began giggling. “Oh, my! The baby isn’t really wasting any time, I believe we can begin. Darling, I need you to spread your legs as wide as you can.”

Alastor’s ears were twitching, this was it. “What can I do to help?!” He was restless, he needed to help his mate.

“Get behind her and hold her legs!” The cannibal woman instructed. And of course, he complied.

He took off his shirt and got behind Y/N, he knew that the feeling of his skin on hers would calm her down.

Her skin nearly burned his, but she just gave him a smile and laid the back of her head on his shoulder.

“Rosie, is she supposed to be this warm?” He was stressing, like… really stressing.

“Hmm, let’s try taking this nightgown off, okay, dear?” Y/N nodded her head eagerly, desperate for anything to cool her down.

Alastor gently peeled her dress off and held her legs back. He was truly amazed how his doe’s body fought to birth their baby. How her legs naturally bowed for easier delivery. He felt her body tense and her delicate hand tightened on his arms. She started pushing with all of her might.

“Just push whenever you feel the need to.” Rosie’s fingers started pressing down on her lower tummy and womb, checking the baby’s position. “Okay, lovely, the baby is in the right position.”

She was whimpering in his arms, tears were flowing down her cheeks. It broke his heart, seeing her in such pain and knowing that he was the one who put her in this position. But he also knew that in a matter of minutes, they would have their own fawn to hold. He kissed her and embraced her from behind. “It hurts so much, Alastor…”

“My love, it will be over soon. Soon, you will hold your little baby in your arms, our little baby. You are so strong, I know you can do it.” That urged her to push harder.

“Good, good. I can see the head!” Rosie reached in to help the baby’s shoulder out. A thing about hellborn babies, they are beautiful and different from human newborns.

Seconds later, het body tensed for the final time and she let out a huff of relief. Then there was silence, until a little cry was heard. Moments later, Rosie put the wailing baby on Y/N’s naked chest, and she gently enveloped the baby in her arms, with eyes full of tears.

“Oh, my baby!” Alastor reached forward and checked the baby. “Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes.”

“Congratulations, my deers! You’re parents to a beautiful baby boy!” Rosie spoke, while bringing the water and tower to clean the baby and Y/N.

The baby was gorgeous, looking exactly like Alastor. Dark red fur, big red eyes, but there were certain elements from his mama. While he had Alastor’s eyes, they were framed by his mama’s doe eyes.

He was clean and bundled up, resting in the embrace of his parents. “Let me get some water and something sugary!” Said Rosie before leaving the room.

“What are we naming this little one?” Asked Alastor, his eyes were warm and full of love towards his baby.

“He looks like a little gentleman, so something elegant. How about… Vincent Hartfelt?” It fit their baby perfectly, so they stuck with it.

After Rosie came back and Y/N gulped down the water, they were talking in more detail about the healing process. Alastor didn’t hear a word, he was busy cradling the tiny fawn to his chest, letting his tiny cheek nuzzle into his father’s fur.

“You might bleed for a bit, so baby Vincent won’t be the only one with diapers.” Rosie joked. “And if you feel sore, a hot bath always helps. And—“

Both Rosie and Alastor snapped their heads towards Y/N when they heard a weak whimper from her. She was gripping the sheets again, her body tensed up completely. “Probably just your body recovering from birth, darling.”

But in the next few minutes, while Alastor was putting the baby into the crib, Y/N started pushing more frequently, until she spoke with a panicked voice. “Something is happening!” She said between her clenched teeth, body shivering from the intense pain.

The cannibal woman wasted no time to get between her legs again. “OH SHIT! The other fawn is coming.”

“The other what?” The deers said in unison.

“No time for chit-chat, I see the head!” The doe pushed with all of her remaining strength, and a wet sound indicated that their other fawn was out, followed by a sweet cry.

Y/N once again embraced the baby, the mates blinked at it, still surprised from the dramatic entrance. Moments later, the shock turned into joy. Rosie delivered the placenta, her body indicating that there were no more fawns coming.

A quick clean up by Rosie and the second little bundle was wrapped up too.

“A healthy girl!” Both of them kissed around the baby doe’s tiny face, which was followed by a sleepy coo. She was gorgeous, and a perfect clone of Y/N. She also had her father’s colors and red dark eyes.

“What a beauty… She looks just like her Mama, I always knew your beauty will bless hell even more so.” Said Alastor, who was trying hard not to tear up, Y/N hadn’t even bothered minding the happy tears running down her cheeks.

“We each got our little clones, Vincent will grow into the most handsome gentleman in hell!” The need to hold her other baby consumed her. You really thought the motherly instinct would settle? They are just getting started. “By the way, what would you like to name this little one?” the doe asked, looking at Alastor with big tearful eyes.

“Heidi. Heidi Hartfelt.” He just knew that as he was looking down at his child.

“It’s perfect.” Y/N nuzzled the side of her face to her mate’s cheeks. “I love you, and I love our babies. Forever, and ever.”

“Oh, my darling. I love you more than words can say, my love for you and the fawns go beyond everything and anything. I would die for you a million times more.” He kissed her deeply, both of their tails wiggling in excitement.

While Rosie held the baby girl, Alastor carried his doe back into their bedroom. Once she was in bed, under the sheets with her back leaning against the many feathery pillows, Alastor came up beside her with Vincent in his arms and Rosie handed Heidi to Y/N.

Rosie stayed for a little bit, in case any after birth effect happened to Y/N that would need to be tended to. She was sitting in the armchair beside the bed, sipping some tea. “I cannot say I’m surprised. The twins explain the huge belly, I should have known. But look at that size difference!” She was onto something, Vincent was much bigger than Heidi. “And, proper deers have twins most of the time, I didn’t think that was also true for deer sinners.”

“I am overfilled with joy that Heidi decided to come along.” Alastor said proudly.

After Rosie shared and wrote down some tips and stuff for them, she left, but not before giving both the babies and their mama a kiss on the forehead.

“So then there were two…” Y/N said out of nowhere, admiring the little fawns she gave life to.

“Then there were two.” Said her mate, also lost in the love he felt. “My darling, I could never thank you enough for giving us two beautiful babies. I could never thank you enough for letting me take care of you, and welcoming me inside of you, both body and soul. I promise you, there will never be a second when I won’t protect you, care for you and cherish you.”

“I know. I am so proud to call you my mate, and I know I am the happiest I can be. Because of you, and these little ones.”

As if on cue, Vincent woke up and started fussing around restlessly in Alastor’s arm, he weeped quietly. Which of course, caused his sister to wake up too, but she shrieked with all of her might. Y/N’s instincts instantly knew what was going on, her fawns were hungry. “Hold her for a second?” She passed Heidi to Alastor to remove the top of her nightgown. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw the milk already dripping from her nipples. He gave her Vincent and he managed to latch on easily, however Heidi was putting up quite the fight.

“Oh, little darling… If you would stop screaming for a second, you could see that Mama is trying to feed you.” Alastor chuckled, he gently got a hold on the back of her head, and with the other hand, he guided his mate’s nipple into the wailing mouth. And from the on, the only thing that was heard in the room was the eager suckling. Y/N leant her head back, while holding and nursing two babies at once.

“You just feed, my loves, you must be so hungry and tired. You spent so much time growing this beautiful in my tummy…”

Alastor thought he might burst with pride, his doe was so very clever. His chin was resting on her shoulder, his eyes were relaxed, and his fingers were constantly stroking a fuzzy little head. He suddenly noticed with a chuckle that Vincent had a drop of milk running down his chin, so he reached down and wiped it away, only to put his finger into his own mouth and tasting the sweetness on it. “I must say I am quite jealous.”

Y/N giggled and whispered into his ear in a seductive voice. “Plenty more from where that came from, as soon as I heal, mommy and daddy can have their own feeding.” She pressed a kiss beside his lips, that had a love dazed grin on them. “Oh, would you look at that!” Both babies were asleep, each having a nipple hanging out of their mouths, completely milk drunk.

They couldn’t let them sleep without burping them, so their little stomach wouldn’t get upset from the excess air. The buck was about to get up to put the babies into the nursery, when Y/N spoke, still snuggling both babies into her arms. “Can you please bring the crib beside our bed? Please, I cannot bear to be away from them.” She said, using her doe eyes.

His eyes softened even more, his mate’s wishes were his commands.

With a snap of his fingers, two bassinets appeared in front of their bed. “Good night, my tiny fawns.” Y/N pressed one more kiss to the foreheads before handing them to Alastor. Once they were bundled up and fast asleep, he leaned into the bassinets and planted kisses on each faces.

He fluffed himself beside his love and she nuzzled herself into him with a purr. “Rest up now, my love. You did so amazing, but you need to let your body rest.”

“I know.” She mumbled, half asleep and snuggled into him completely.

He couldn’t help falling asleep with a big smile on his face. No one in hell beside his little family knew that the Radio Demon never felt happier.

“Lyra, it’s impossible that Y/N was unaware that she was having twins!”

Hold my beer.

Jokes aside, I hope you liked it! And I want to say that the support I got for these series really means a lot to me, so thank you<3

taglist: @jyoongim @lovingyeet @adamwarlockislife-blog @that-dumb-bitch @midorichoco @alastorswifeee @littlekacchan @sugurubabe @captainfia @alastorssimp @iheartalastor @speedycoffeedelight @1o-o @kimmis-stuff @qu1cks1lversb1tch @chibistar45 @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @lillylovesalastorsm1

[rroseselavyyy]

vespertine - myg

pairing: yoongi x female reader

warnings: smut

As soon as you locked eyes with his, he slammed you against the door before you could even greet him. He didn't need to talk about how stressful his day had been because he knew you could see right through him from the moment he walked into your apartment.

You whimpered like a wounded deer as he pressed his body against yours and kissed you with his mouth open as if he wanted to steal the air from your lungs. He lifted you off the floor by wrapping your legs around his waist.

You didn't say a word to each other as he carried you up to your room. You unbuttoned his shirt as he climbed the stairs. His breath caught in his throat as you drew your face closer to the nape of his neck, giving love bites to his sensitive flesh.

He tasted like the pomegranate seeds you willingly ate to exchange your freedom for his kingdom of darkness.

You fell onto the bed with him on top of you. You were both panting heavily when you finally locked your eyes with his. He was more than emboldened to make you shy under his heated gaze as your crimson-red cheeks made you look even more beautiful.

He could never be more in love with you. Your mere presence was enough to enthrall Yoongi.

"You're so beautiful, angel." After removing his clothes, he took his place between your legs, trapping his frame between them on either side of him. He took a moment to brush your hair away from your face with his slender fingers. His free hand landed on your knee to spread your legs further apart. You closed your legs around his hand, inviting him to follow it to your most private parts. "You're beautiful too, daddy."

You whimpered as he pulled your panties aside and stretched your pussy with his middle and index fingers, your slickness making it easy for him to slide inside your walls. "Fuck- baby, you're dripping. Is it all for me?"

"Yes, daddy." You breathed through your nose as his thumb stroked your clit in a way that made your vision blur when the pleasure was too consuming for you to think straight. “It’s all for you.”

Though he had only asked the question to tease you, your sweet declaration sent shivers down his spine. You were like a delicate flower in his garden, he wanted to corrupt you until he had you all to himself.

“Do you think you're ready for my cock, angel?”

Your manicured fingers scratched his neck as you nodded feverishly. He slipped his fingers out of you and a whimper escaped your lips as if you missed the feel of his fingers filling you. 

He teased you with the tip of his cock as you let out a sob as if you couldn't wait any longer. You felt like you were about to lose your mind as he sank into you inch by inch.

His lips felt soft against your skin as his kisses traced a path down your throat to your breasts. He sucked on your nipples through your sheer floral bra as if tasting the sweetest honey. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear about how good you were to him as he made you see stars under his weight.

He picked up a pace that made loud thumps as he fucked you into the mattress, causing the bed to hit the wall. His raven hair fell into his eyes and sweat dripped from his forehead. He left kisses on your cheek as loud moans came from your mouth.

His thrusts became more brutal and his animalistic grunts echoed in your ears. You felt tears streaming down your face as you murmured to his lips how much you loved him. He finished inside your heavenly walls as your pussy gripped his cock tightly. His warm cum filled you to the brim, triggering your orgasm right after him.

He didn't pull out, but instead he lay down on top of you and rested his head on the valley of your breasts. His hands were on either side of you, caressing your skin in a soothing way.

"Yoongi, you can tell me what happened." He sighed as you played with his damp hair. "Your dad's giving me a hard time at work."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" You pulled his hair slightly so he could look at your face. He looked intently into your eyes before kissing your worries away. There was a look of amusement on his face as he pulled away from the kiss that you had shared with him.

"Don't worry about me, angel. I think it would be enough to give him a heart attack if I told him that I take my frustrations out on her daughter's pussy every time he makes me mad."

--

[maiiuelle]

❀ warnings: minors dni, alcohol, “daddy” is used, phone sex, mutual masturbation

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your room is like a sanctuary; poofy pink pillows, a silky canapé over your bed, and your fluffy duvet just melt your anxieties away at the end of the day. before bed you have a sort of ritual — after your extensive shower and skin care routine, you tip toe into your princess suite and shut off every light except the floor lamp next to the window overlooking the street.

you have a gorgeous vintage bench beneath the window that functions as your reading nook, complete with floral pink and cream cushions, lace curtains, and your favorite blanket. you’ve been loyal to your nighttime reading since you were little, always setting aside at least an hour to read before going to sleep every night. to really set the mood, you light your favorite cinnamon vanilla bean scented candle and put on a relaxing record.

humming along to lana’s soft voice, you shuffle to your towering bookshelf to look over its contents. the shelves are overflowing with books and knickknacks — most being calico critters and sonny’s angels that live happily amongst the hardbacks, complete with appropriately sized furniture for them. you carefully squeeze past the animal tea party you carefully set up to retrieve tonight’s read—

buzz buzz.. buzz buzz.. buzz buzz..

you sigh, your eyes softly closing in annoyance at your phone ringing against the wooden end table where it’s charging. one peek at the bright screen and you stomp over to answer.

“rafe? its 11:30.”

“yeah? what’re you doing up so late?” you can hear the smirk on his lips, and you roll your eyes.

“well, i was trying to read.” you snark, looking at the book in your hand and skimming over the summary on the back, pacing mindlessly over to your reading bench with the phone pressed to your ear. “what’re you doing? working?”

“nah, actually — i was just thinking about you.” in truth, he was supposed to be working, but the scotch in his glass distracted him. now he’s reclining in his office chair, tapping his pen against his wooden desk as he speaks. “missed you today.”

“mhm.” you muse. he’d invited you to come golfing with him, topper, and kelce but you refused. sometimes it felt like he was a completely different person with them, and you don’t want to be around that. you hadn’t heard from him for the rest of the day, until now.

“what? you mad at me or somethin’?”

“no.. i just — i’m frustrated! i wanted to see you.” you admit, throwing the book down on the bench cushion beside you. “and only you — not top and kelce — just you!”

“aw, pretty girl, m’so sorry.” his tone is almost mocking, clearly not actually apologetic as he slides his toned hand over the bulge in his pants. he really does miss you, and he certainly missed watching you prance around the country club in your mini skirts. even now you’re just too cute when you’re angry, it’s driving him crazy. “how ‘bout you lay down, i’ll help you relax, yeah? yeah.. lemme make it up to you.”

you pause, all of a sudden very aware of how his breathing has deepened. he couldn’t be.. “rafe? what’re you doing?” you ask again, listening closely to the muffled sound of his clothes rustling.

he has the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, both hands working to pull off his belt. “didn’t i just tell you to do somethin’, princess? go lay down.”

you blink like a deer in headlights — you want to stay mad at him, after all he had completely blown you off all day. but his gravely voice is already making you push your thighs together, you’d rather he take care of you than prove a point. “mm.. okay.”

“yeah, s’what i thought.” rafe breathes over the phone. you’re always so pliant for him, so desperate to please him you’d do anything he says. you jump onto your poofy bed, scaring your poor cat awake as you roll onto your back.

“wanna tell daddy what you got on?”

you look down your torso, manicured fingers dragging down your thigh as you try to stay patient. “just a tank top n those cute panties you got me. you know the pink lacy ones?” you play with the bow attached to the front of them in thought, remembering how he’d ripped them right off of you last time he snuck over.

“oh yeah? that’s it?” he’s amused, his smirk growing as he pictures you putting on practically nothing to go read. he groans at the thought, freeing his cock from his boxers. “i like ‘em better off.”

“i bet.” you bite your lip, giggling as your fingers slip under the thin fabric to pull them down. you want more than anything for him to appear at your door so he can take care of you properly, his encouragement over the phone just isn’t the same. “you should come here n help me.”

“oh, believe me, i want to. could sneak in the window and fuck you right — like you deserve.” rafe coos. “remember last time? had you on your back, spread out on your bed with your pretty legs around me.” the memory makes you whine, hips moving on their own in search of friction. “you playin’ with that pussy like i do, baby?”

you take that as permission, humming a soft, “mhm..” as you dip your fingers into your mouth to wet them, then settling them in between your folds.

“don’t tell me i’m gettin’ you all wet already, princess.” he teases, his smugness interrupted with a grunt as he slowly strokes himself to your soft moans. “such a good girl, see what happens when you listen? feels nice, huh?”

“ah.. rafe—”

“shh, i got you. you just worry about playin’ with that pretty pussy n daddy’ll handle the rest, a’ight?”

maybe it wouldn’t hurt to skip reading for one night?

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[shadowdarlings]

Rain & Redemption II

Tamlin x Reader

Synopsis : The Lord of Spring has returned, with his nightingale in tow. While readapting to civilized life you and Tamlin face reality together.

part one

Pairings : TamlinxReader

a/n : so i am really digging the first part of this story and decided that i want to continue writing at 12:07am so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did <3

Warnings : slight angst (with comfort), mentions of trauma, suggestiveness, as always possessive tamlin (in a good way)

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Dinner with Tamlin was a drawn out affair. The deer he hunted down, no doubt in his beast form, had to be prepped and cooked. While he began dressing the fallen creature you took it upon yourself to begin sifting through the discarded and destroyed artifacts that littered the dining area. Although the manor had been shredded and abandoned, you couldn’t help but marvel at its refreshing beauty. Here there was light. Massive glass windows looked out to a rose garden that was surely once well manicured. The sun had already started its descent past the horizon but light still streamed in from every corner. The manor was everything that your home under that gods forsaken mountain wasn’t. The Hewn City was all darkness and stale air. You began sorting things into two piles. Items that were fairly unharmed were deemed “to keep”, others that had been completely torn apart were tossed into a discard pile. The two of you worked diligently in silence until he looked up from the deer and said, “You never told me your name.” You tore your gaze from the chipped vase in your hands and met his stare. “You never asked,” you began with a playful smugness, “but it’s Y/N.” Something unreadable flickered in his green eyes before a slight smirk cracked on his face. “Well, Y/N,” he said with a dramatic pause, “our dinner is ready to be cooked. How do you like your venison?”

You both agreed that without a working kitchen that a fire would be the best way to roast the deer. While he built a fire you toyed with an idea. “What if we preserved some of this beautiful bounty into something that will last beyond a night?” you asked him. Tamlin threw another piece of wood onto the makeshift fire and answered your question with his own. “As in a jerky? How do you mean?” That was exactly what you had meant. The future of your time in this manor and when you would next have a full meal was entirely uncertain. The topic had hardly been broached. “Unless you intend to spend the rest of your days hunting and building fires, it might be a prudent idea.” He looked you over before replying, “Smart, little bird. We’ll make two steaks for tonight and dry out the rest. It should preserve overnight and we can feast on jerky for weeks.” Satisfied with your quick thinking you helped him prepare the meat for roasting.

“What did you mean when you said you are not fit to be a ruler?” you asked after another bout of silence. Tamlin stilled his spinning of your dinner over the fire and his gaze shot to the flames between you. “I’m sorry,” you quickly said, “If I’m prying too much.” He did not look up from the inferno but said quietly, “I have abandoned my people and my post. Those who reside in the Spring Court put their faith in me. I have failed them again and again, in so many ways.” You blinked once at his brutal honesty before prodding further. “Will they not look to you once more? Surely there is a way to regain their trust.” His eyes moved from the fire to your own. They were filled with such sadness, such regret. “I would not know where to start, little nightingale.” You scoffed lightly as his response. “Well,” you began, “I think leaving those woods and coming home is already a start, wouldn’t you say? If you’re willing to return just to ensure the safety of a lone Night Court citizen, I can’t imagine what you might be willing to do for your people.” The sadness in his eyes faded ever so slightly as he said, “Since you’re so full of wisdom tonight, pray tell how might I continue this path of redemption?” You smiled at that.

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Tamlin was restless. Every time he started to fade away, sleep evaded him and he was jolted awake by poisoned memories. He had declared that he wanted to sleep outside the manor to stay alert for any looters or more dangerous creatures. He’d shifted into his beast form and taken post directly in front of the entrance just as night had overtaken the Spring Court. Truly, he was not sure if he was ready to sleep under this roof again. The two of you had talked for hours, discussing your histories and what the future of the Spring Court might look like. He’d escorted you to your room and bid you a gentlemanly goodnight, but your conversation replayed in his mind endlessly. A loose plan had been set in place to begin repairing his relations with those that depended on him. You had been so eager and determined while you both brainstormed ideas for making amends. He admired your tenacity yet was not fully convinced that this plan would work effectively. The thought made him queasy. His heart began a pace that tightened his chest and he was sure that if he’d been in his fae form that his palms would be sweaty. Tamlin shoved his anxieties down and recalled what you had told him about Rhysand, about how he’d condemned the entire Hewn City to a life of cruelty and rot. Although the idea of tomorrow sent him into an unending panic, he did not wish for you or any of his people to endure the same neglect for another moment.

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The morning light creeped in through the open window in your bedroom. It took a moment to recall everything that had happened, where you now were. The bedding had been dusty but a few shakes had it cleaner than before. You didn’t mind dirt, you’d spent a year lying on the forest floor. Waking up in a soft bed had become unfamiliar, but you relished the softness of the pillows and blankets before sitting to stretch your limbs. Moving to the armoire, you sifted through the clothing to find a pale green dress and a set of cream slippers. The outfit was plain but you didn’t particularly mind. Your mission for today did not require glittering attire. You fixed your hair into a loose braid and pulled two strands from the front to frame your face. After giving yourself a once over in the looking glass you deemed your appearance fit for the task at hand.

Tamlin was already dressed in a tunic and pants that were similar in style to the night before. You only gave yourself a moment to admire his wide shoulders before clearing your throat. He turned from his work on the piles you had created the night before and said “Good morning,” before he faltered. His eyes widened slightly and dragged up and down your figure. Meeting your gaze once more he choked out, “Well don’t we look the picture of Spring today?” You rolled your eyes at him and moved to take the picture frame from his hands. “We have a job to do, remember?” Tamlin huffed out a weak laugh before replying, “How could I ever forget?” He looked tired. You wondered if he slept as marvelously as you did. Considering that he spent the night on a set of marble stones you didn’t know how he possibly could.

The two of you moved outside to where the deer had been smoking overnight. Indeed it had preserved itself into a jerky that would remain edible for weeks. He started packing the strips into the wooden bin you had found in the kitchens when you said, “I have another idea.” He did not pause his movement or even look at you as he said, “Of course you do.” You pulled a basket from behind your back and waved it in front of his face to draw his attention. “I was thinking,” you began, “we should gather some flowers to take as well. These gardens are completely overrun. There are flowers and berries that need culling anyhow.” He straightened and assessed the gardens before the manor. “As you wish,” was all he said. Tamlin had been quieter than he was last night. You thought it best not to pry further and with his permission granted made your way into the thick of the garden and began collecting the fruits of spring.

When your basket was full and Tamlin had stored all of the dried meat you both began your trek to the nearest village. On horseback, he had told you, it would only take a half hour to reach your destination. After the fall of Spring his array of horses had all been stolen or set free by anonymous citizens. After two hours of walking the two of you were tired and parched. A nearby stream trickled with fresh water and you both drank deeply from its supply. “It’s just over that hill,” he said. The hike had been mostly silent. You were learning to enjoy quiet moments with the High Lord. It was almost as if you had a mutual understanding that the silence was not rude, but instead a peaceful reprieve. “No turning back now,” you said, standing from the stream and straightening your lightweight gown. He grunted in acknowledgment as you both continued your parade to the village.

The sight of the meager town was heartbreaking. Several houses and shops had fallen into rubble and the village center had looked as equally abandoned as the manor. Tamlin halted immediately, his breath quickening. Sensing his discomfort you moved to lace your fingers between his, squeezing tightly. The High Lord did not balk from your touch but instead gave a light squeeze back and continued his approach. The two of you reached a small home that had a plume of smoke rising from a stone chimney. A sign of life. Unlocking your hands you raised a fist and gave two sharp knocks to the wooden door. A few moments of shuffling and then the door swung open to reveal a gruff looking fae male. His eyes first landed on you, then travelled upwards to the towering Lord behind you. The male’s eyes widened with shock and reproach. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” he spat at you both. You calmed the annoyance that flowed through you and made your voice gentle as you said, “I- We come to offer a favor to you and your home.” The male looked down at your basket and the dried jerky Tamlin held in his hand. “We don’t need your charity,” the male responded, “we’ve been fairing well enough on our own, girl.” A sweet voice sounded from further into the house, “Mikah? Who is it?” A pretty looking female stepped into the light of the entrance and put her hand on Mikah’s arm. When she turned her gaze to the two of you her expression almost mirrored the males’. “Our High Lord and his… this girl have brought favors.” She looked down to the goods you had presented and back to Mikah. “I told them we were just fine,” he said with a hint of finality in his tone. The female scoffed at him and observed the two of you once more. “We are most certainly not,” she started. “Invite him and the girl inside.” With that she turned and strode back into the house. Mikah gave Tamlin an incredulous look but opened the door further for you to enter.

The female’s name was Cera, you had learned. She fussed over dishes and refreshments as she lamented about their struggles. The village had been ripe for naga attacks and most residents had decided to evacuate the area for fear of their families. “Mikah did not want to leave, of course. He spends most of his days hunting, although they are not always fruitful.” You and Tamlin listened carefully to her story. There were only a few families that had stayed after his disappearance. They all struggled. You glanced over at Tamlin and were met with a stern face. His jaw was set and his eyes were dark with despair. Underneath the modest wooden table you grasped his hand once more, turning your attention back to Cera. The four of you spoke for several hours. You and Tamlin expressed your willingness to help in any way you could with the naga and the rebuilding of the village. After exchanging the dried meats and gifts from your basket, the two of you made your way back to the front of their house. “Thank you for having us,” you said “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” Cera reached out to pick up your hands. She looked at you then at Tamlin, her eyes pricked with tears. “Thank you for coming back. We need you,” she said. He nodded his head towards her and straightened as he said, “I could not have done it alone. It will take all of us to rebuild. I am thankful for your time.”

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Tamlin let out a heavy sigh when the two of you began your walk back to the manor. The day had been filled with conversations like the first he’d had with Mikah and Cera. The two of you had made your way to most of the families remaining in the village and presented your gifts as well as your pledges to restore their homes and lives. He was exhausted. Once the two of you had crested the hill overlooking the town he paused. You looked at him in curiosity. He was overwhelmed with emotions… gratitude, despair, grief, hopefulness, apprehension. Without thinking he grabbed your waist and pulled you close against his chest. He could hear your smooth, calming heartbeat. He breathed in your scent and closed his eyes. Only two days ago he had been more beast than man. Now he was walking on two legs and meeting with the people who had once trusted him. He felt your hands wrap around his middle as you nuzzled into him further. He could have stayed like this forever, but you pulled back looking up at him with those bright gorgeous eyes. “You did well today,” you said to him still in his grasp, “I’m proud of you.” Tamlin hadn’t heard such perfect words in a very long time.

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Taglist : @lilah-asteria @booksnwriting @stained-glass-eyes0708 @anxious-cactus @thrumbolt @jesskidding3 @acotarxreader @nocasdatsgay @scorpioriesling

[ahhhwomen]

How did R’s react when he ate sweets for the first time and how did Natasha and Wanda react?

a/n: I am very close to calling this its own chapter given the fact that it is 4.5k and I lost my mind trying to write it. Is it good? I don't know. Did I proff read it? Fuck no, I'm over this shit. Anyway, enjoy the girlie's first kiss ig.

Contains slight spoilers for unreleased chapters of Vampire Empire

Warning: Implied force-feeding, talk of vomit, food anxiety, gay simps

The goop inside your bowl is scarcely edible.

At least that’s what you think, not that it matters, you don’t have opinions.

Half of it clings to the sides of your bowl, strangely solid yet somehow entirely liquid, the other half of the sustenance is spilled and hanging off the bent metal´s side. The closer it gets to midnight, the worse it looks.

A whimper echoes against hollow walls and joins the wails of fellow prisoners as the shattering pain inside your jaw bares its ugly teeth at the thought of creaking itself open for the sludge that could be mistaken for concrete.

In the first few hours, it had a color close to desirable. Now, the color reminds you more of the ground stained with your bodily fluids, because much like your blood, dried grab slathers itself against the cold outside of your bowl.

Picture perfect representation of your life story: desired, if only for a moment.

The scarce portion left on the inside is like a heap of coagulated blood, it jiggles and splatters against the metal beside your cracked hands. You could almost swear it has a pulse of its own. Gasping for the same chilled air that burns your lungs, the traumatizing, grey, something, moves up and down- breathing.

Footsteps of a handler emit in the empty air, heavy like the raging rain, the clash of his boots forces you to move faster. Much like a hurt deer, you drag your body across the ground until you are close enough to grasp the cool metal and force its insides down your closing throat.

Your broken jaw shrieks and cracks as you use both your hands to split it open with a sickening crunch.

If only they cut away your sense of smell too, that way you might not gag as much while the thick liquid, with the stench of a dead body, gurgles itself down your throat. It's like swallowing a handful of sand mixed with the guts of a diseased fish.

At this point, starving yourself would be the better option, but there was no point. Unless you wanted a tube stuck down your throat tonight, you would have to stomach it yet another day.

Manicured nails wrap around the delicate throat of a wine glass. Red liquid, which will never quench her thirst, swirls gently as she rotates her wrist in a circular motion. The glass is chilled and smooth against her fingertips, a soothing distraction from her twisting thoughts.

It's almost humorous, most would be concerned if their pet didn’t eat, yet here she was, concerned that you did.

A frustrated sigh builds within her, crawling up her stomach until she has to fight the air she breathes, in an attempt to not startle you as you rest beside her outstretched feet. It's not that she wasn’t happy you ate her food, or that your lack of pickiness angered her, it was just weird.

No matter what she put in front of you, you would eat it but rarely look like you enjoyed it. Even the most lavish of meals would be regarded with horribly hidden cringing. With a sigh, Wanda leans forward slightly, being extra careful not to disturb you as she changes her position, she rests her elbow on the plush cushion to her left and mulls it over.

There had been multiple instances where you would end up serving the food right back up again after finally getting it down, a clear sign that you either didn’t like it or ate too much of it.

A frown settles over stern features at the memories.

Even after you would throw up, you would attempt to consume it again with a grim expression adoring your pale features. Luckily Wanda was always there to remove it before you could try a second time, but then you would look like a scolded child and hide yourself away for the rest of the day.

It's as if the very idea of leaving the damn food alone gave you a whole crisis.

So, that’s how she finds herself now, in dire need of a solution as your weight has been dropping rapidly due to the reverse your stomach so often does. She needs to find a way to make you understand that it's okay to dislike something and that it's also okay to express pleasure for certain foods.

With a huff, Wanda continues to swirl her wine gently, it swishes against the sides and glides into thick droplets before merging itself back into its voluminous state. The irony isn’t lost on the older redhead, she supposes it’s slightly amusing that the only drink she deems worthy of her time resembles her most addictive poison.

Drifting her gaze over to your sleeping form she can’t help but admire your neck for a moment, the smooth skin jumping up and down with the quirk of your sensitive pulse. Your vein is so close to her, ready at her disposal. Of course, she would never bite you, not until you were ready, yet she couldn’t help but fantasize every now and then…

Your heady taste coating her tongue and throat, Wanda inhales deeply as she watches you sleep, your scent burns like sweet bourbon. Much like your smell, she imagines your taste would be similar; rich, and sweet… Sweet.

Wanda almost has to refrain from an incredulous laugh as the thought strikes her like lightning, the most obvious choice of them all; sweets.

However, even with such a lethal weapon up her sleeve, there were still certain challenges that would follow.

Due to her preference for keeping your diet strict and healthy, she imagined you were quite unfamiliar with the concept of anything remotely sweet. She would have to do this carefully, not wanting food to become a point of stress for you, more than it already was, she needed to introduce the new taste with something you are familiar with.

Twirling the glass around Wanda stared down at the deep red in thought, her knitted sweater irked her slightly as it slid across her skin, following her motions. With a huff, she took a sip of her fruity wine, as it lathered itself against her tastebuds, a bolt struck her for the second time that night.

Fruits.

Wanda had seen Natasha attempt to introduce you to the foreign concept before. And though it ended with a rather grumpy you after Natasha tricked you into trying a lemon, you had seemed… happier with the simplicity of it rather than your dinners.

To be fair Natasha had only managed to convince you to try the simplest and most universal fruits, such as bananas and apples, and of course, that lemon- but that one also set Natasha’s progress back by a week as you refused to try anything else she offered you.

Wanda’s eyebrows knit as she thinks it over… so you do know how to deny food?

Then how come every time Wanda served you breakfast or dinner you would eat until you threw up?

Amid her deep loophole of theories, a cramp hit Wanda’s leg, unconsciously she moved it slightly to the left, toward you. It wasn’t until she watched your sleeping form arch away from her by instinct that she realized you truly don’t trust Wanda. At least not the way you do Natasha.

She really shouldn’t be surprised.. she had seen it endless times by now, but the idea that you would push your body to such lengths because of her was more devastating than she could ever imagine.

It pained her to think that you deemed force-feeding yourself the lesser evil of the situation.

Yet, that would have to be a problem to punish her mind with at a later date, the important thing now was to help bring stability to your life and diet. Even if you don’t trust her, you do seem to have some resemblance of trust toward Natasha, or well, at least after she swore never to trick you again, you do.

And though she can use that to her advantage, it doesn’t give an immediate resolution; Natasha was scarcely home before your bedtime and wouldn’t be able to serve you your breakfast or dinner, and it was important to Wanda that the routine they had built for you stayed solid as sudden change had caused quite a few mishaps in the past.

So, as the businesswoman Wanda is, she starts mentally preparing a game plan for tonight and sends a quick text to Natasha, asking her to pick up a little something before returning home.

If this worked in her favor, it could strengthen your trust in her, which would in return at least start the path to recover some of your weight.

A few hours later, you and Wanda had long since abandoned your napping spots on the couch in favor of slipping into your own corners of the house. The older woman in her office and you, most likely, under a piece of tucked away furniture where you knew you wouldn’t be disturbed.

The door opens with a silent twist of the expensive, vintage, handle. Natasha cringes as her boots drag across the carpet, she had warned Wanda against installing it right next to the main door, but her wife wasn’t easily persuaded. Sure enough, as soil splatters itself in distinctive Natasha-pressed footprints, Natasha knows she will be in trouble in about ten seconds.

1…

Nat discards her dirty work shoes on the little shelf to her left, leaving another muddy print on the metal.

2…

Fixing the grocery bag around her shoulder Natasha wonders what wicked plan Wanda has planned for the three of you tonight.

3…

The older redhead didn’t have to tell her wife that she was hashing out a plan, Natasha could figure it out just due to one of the items she was instructed to buy.

4…

It’s not as if her wife doesn’t like this item, it’s just that she never really requests it, and least of all so late and out of the blue.

5… 6… 7…

As the seconds tick by without a single sound from her wife, Natasha gets a little confused. Usually, Wanda would always be there to welcome her home and reprimand her for bringing in her dirty shoes.

8… 9…

Today, however, it seems her wife must be preoccupied with her little plan.

10.

“What have I told you about bringing your dirty shoes inside?”

Natasha almost jumps out of her skin when she feels the words breathe down her neck. Turning around in a millisecond, she sees Wanda smirk at her while she leans against the door.

“Jesus Wanda, you really have to stop doing that! One day I am going to have a heart attack!” Rich laughter travels through Natasha’s ears as Wanda sinks deeper against the door in her fit of indulgent giggles while she shakes her head at her wife’s spooked expression.  

Pushing herself away from the expensive oak, she slides her hands around her wife’s waist and nuzzles into Natasha’s neck, mouthing the words against her, “Darling, you don’t have a heart.” Natasha huffs but leans her head more to the left, giving Wanda space to kiss and bite as she sees fit.

“Not true…” The younger redhead mumbles it mostly to herself and Wanda simply hums against her as she drags the point of her canines slowly down from beneath Nat´s ear and down to her thoracic outlet.

Red, angry, lines form as she can’t help but add a little pressure behind the drag, feeling Nat’s pulse jump and hammer right beneath her tongue. Barley refraining from sinking her teeth in, Wanda releases Natasha with a sigh and one last kiss to the junction between her neck and shoulder.

Natasha attempts to lean back in hopes of gaining contact again, but there is no point. Before she can even blink, Wanda is halfway across the hallway, holding the bag Nat just had within her grasp.

“Not fair.” The younger woman whispers to herself and pretends not to see the smirk her wife sends her way.

Dark red heels click against the marble flooring as the rustle of plastic echoes within their space, “Find kitten and bring her to the living room, please.” The plea is more for show than anything, Wanda is more than aware that her wife can’t say no to her.

The grumbled, “Yes, ma’am”, is ignored as Wanda has already made her way out of sight before Natasha can get the words out.

With a huff and a quick check of her watch, Natasha makes her way upstairs to find the little culprit.

If anyone were to ask you, you would say Natasha Romanoff was a witch.

It’s the only palpable explanation as to how she always knows where you are, at least that’s what you think as you can hear her knock on the dresser you were napping under.

The bone knocks against the wood in a ticking manner, one knock, two knocks, and at last a rasp against the oak as she lets her hand drag across the dresser. It’s a heavy yet light sound that calls out to you as you are tempted to peek your head out and question her on her witch-like abilities.

You refrain from doing so and for a moment your body is unsure whether to be impressed or panicked at how easily she can predict you.

The cold floor beneath the dresser is tempting to melt into and never return from as you can hear her light steps drag across the floor beside you, any second now you know you will see her eyes look right through the darkness and find their resting place on you.  

Facing the world wasn’t something you wanted to do at this moment.

And yet, it never comes…

When you turn your head and expect to see cat-like eyes staring back at you from outside the dark corners surrounding you, you are surprised to instead see her sock-clad feet with strange plastic eyes plastered onto them.

The little black pupils rattle against her movements as she curls her feet in a manner that makes the strange sock creature look as if it’s been caught and feels guilty. It looks a little silly and you honestly don’t know how to react to the absurdity of it, so without realizing it a sweet giggle slips out before you can stop it.

Oh no…

When the realization of what you have just done settles within your storming thoughts you have half the mind to slap your hand across your mouth and pray that the older woman didn’t hear it, but as you hear a pleased huff of breath above you, you know you have been caught.

Natasha kneels down until she can peek under the dresser to where your scared eyes study her. She knew to keep her reactions to a minimum, but as soon as she heard your gleeful expression, Natasha had to use every ounce of willpower not to coo.

“Hey baby,” Nat smiles at you as you bite your lip, unsure of her reaction to your slip of judgment, you hold back the pleased grumble building within your chest at her smooth tone.

It ends up being one hell of a task to get you out of there, Natasha has to swear up and down that, your little slip-up didn’t anger her, and then she has to spend the next ten minutes waiting for you to peak your head out.

But, after a bit of coaxing, Natasha can hear your palms lightly slap against the flooring as you follow her a few steps behind. The dig of the wood beneath her feet lets her know that they should invest in some more carpets, or perhaps mats, as this could surely not be good for your weak joints.

The redhead walks in a leisurely stroll, letting you stay close yet still have the desired distance as you pitter-patter behind her.

When the plush carpet molds itself to her stance, Natasha’s movements come to a halt. She stops short of the couch, watching her wife sit in a rather relaxed pose. With her hands stretched out at the top of the cushions, she sits with her chin held high and her rump sunken low.

Natasha almost snickers at her wife’s overly dominant presence, but something about the look in Wanda’s eyes tells her to sit this one out and wait for further instructions.

Wanda observes the both of you as you present yourselves before her watchful eyes. You stay low, crawling forward just enough to satisfy the scary lady. The older redhead’s skin itches with the need to smirk as you crawl toward the both of them, something primal within her, pleased.

Humming, to soothe both her wife and you, Wanda directs her attention to Natasha as her wife waits for an explanation.

She wants to drag it out and make Nat guess as much as you will have to.

This will be a game of trust after all. The need to tease her wife is strong, so, Wanda does as she pleases.

Lifting her pointer, she waves it around in the air for a moment, building a little suspense as the whirlwind swirls around her aura, and then she points over to the living room table.

Atop the table is a plate of sliced apples covered in chocolate, placed deliberately outside of your view.

As Natasha directs her sight to whatever it is Wanda is showing off, you can’t help but try and sneak in a peak yourself. However, much to your disappointment, the item, or whatever it is, is sat just high enough on the table to where you can’t see from your kneeled-down position.

Someone may call you paranoid, but to you, it all seems awfully intentional on the clan leader’s end.

The waving pointer is redirected to you as Natasha smirks for whatever reason while she turns back toward her wife. With a pleasant, and a little scary, smile, Wanda eases your tension as she tilts her head to the side in adoration before ordering her wife to, “Give her a taste, darling.”

Your eyes travel up to the redhead beside you as she moves away for a moment only to return with a platter with some sort of brown rocks on top of it. They make a strange crackling noise as Natasha places it down on the small table in front of the both of you.

Then, a hand comes into view as Natasha heeds her wife’s commands.

Pale, cold, fingertips are wrapped around the strange item that you figure must be some sort of food given the clan leader’s figure of speech, but you aren’t entirely convinced as you view it with uncertainty.

However, the fight is futile as you look up to the tall redhead in questioning hesitance, she smiles gently and as much as it annoys you, you are what the two older women have previously referred to as a “goner”.

Taking a hesitant bite, the crunch of the apple is slightly muted by the strange crackling layer of chocolate. It takes a few bites before the flavor hits you. Chewing slowly, it lies bare for your raw tastebuds to reap, gliding and emerging with your senses.

As your jaw creaks in displeasure, you focus on the heaviness of the treat.

It’s rich at first, almost overwhelming you with its sweetness. It reminds you of wintertime when the bakery just a few streets down from the shelter would emit the most beautiful of smells. It brings you back to the cold nights when you would lay, naked and bruised, beneath your red lamp and envision yourself inside the bakery. Stuffing your face with whatever you might desire.

Weak bones fight themselves as you gorge on the sugary addiction, it sticks to your gums and sneaks its way into the most stubborn corners of your teeth, making a distinctive smacking noise as you bite down repeatedly.

Then the flavor settles, it’s a more muted and pleasantly balanced mix of delightful, creamy, sugar and slightly sour apple. Your jaw works deftly, moving up and down in an unsure manner.

It tastes… good.

It tastes wonderful.

Amazing even.

Perhaps the best thing you have ever eaten. Which all makes you feel like a fool…

It tastes like everything you were ever denied.

Therefore, you sit and wait.

While Natasha and Wanda sit before you with bated breaths, slightly confused by your lack of reaction, you just look at them with beady eyes filled with… betrayal?

It cuts deep, as if your emotions slice through any physical or emotional armor that may surround the two not-so-human creatures. Pain oozes inside their slowly beating hearts as the ice perishes and hot molten burns through their veins until horror takes place.

Wanda is on the ground in front of you before you can even blink.

“Oh, baby…” She leans forward, shifting her weight onto her palms as she rests them beside her bent knees, lowering her torso toward the wooden floor as she crawls toward you. Her shirt rolls up at the action, untucking itself and riding up her back until a sliver of pale flesh showcases itself, but she doesn’t care, instead, she keeps going, slowly.

You tense at the movement, unsure of yourself, you cower away from her, for every inch she advances, you slither back. Deep down you know Wanda would never hurt you, but you also know that if she ever were to desire your misery; she would be far worse than Master.

Calm eyes track your motions as you crawl away from her in a rather desperate fashion, the fact that it does not seem to deter her from getting any closer makes the panic, creeping up your throat, raw and painful as the taste of acid coats itself over sensitive tastebuds.

Sensing your oncoming panic, Wanda stops, for the time being, sitting back on her heels, she makes a show of resting her hands on top of her thighs. Her fingers glide over the material of her fancy-dress pants silently, the ruffles and stretching of the material calm you for a reason you cannot explain.

Little confused, wooden tiles burrow into you as you settle your rump down against them, letting the anxiety simmer and calm before seeking eye contact in an uncertain question. Your head tilting slightly to the left, you wait for her to illuminate her sudden display of surrender and levelheaded dominance.

Perhaps she just wanted first-row seats to your pathetic reaction.

Whatever they put in the dessert is sure to kick in soon.

“Ah…” Wanda hums as she views your saddened eyes up close.

“Natasha. Hand me that would you?” Natasha, who had been sitting rather shell-shocked for the past few moments as her wife hunted you down, shakes it off and tilts her head in confusion for a moment before realization settles in.

With a huff, something mixed with relief and disbelief, Natasha hands over the half-eaten chocolate-covered apple slice that had just been fed to you.

The half-melted chocolate covers the expanses of Wanda’s fingertips as she holds it out for you to see. Then, before you can get nervous about having to eat another piece, it disappears as Wanda puts it in her own mouth instead.

For a moment after you just stare.

Watching as her jaw works before your very eyes, you still can’t help but wait for a sudden change, a frown to deepen, or a foul sound as the flavor takes over the older woman’s senses.

Yet, it never comes.

Small crinkles form around Wanda’s eyes as she chews, they move up and down, changing together with her muscle’s expansion and retraction. They stay consistent with every motion, never faltering in its path.

Like tiny wrinkles on a sheet of paper, it smoothens once she finishes her piece. Letting out a pleased sigh as she does so, clearly delighted by the sweet treat.

And like the snapping apple piece.

You break.

It’s like raindrops against a windshield, almost a question of what tears will win as riveting streams trickle down your chin at an alarming rate. It’s nothing like the few traitorous tears that the redheads have been privy to, no it’s like a raging storm as you hiccup in sorrow at the prospect of respect.

At the sight, Natasha draws in a weary hiss, yet Wanda doesn’t seem to change much at all.

There is no pity in her eyes while she closes in, only determination as she slides another apple piece halfway inside her own mouth and lessens the distance. Too distracted by your own sudden outburst, you don’t even realize what is happening until chocolate grazes your lips as the redhead waits for permission while resting her lips only a few centimeters from your own.

The sudden action shocks you to such degree that you have nodded consent before you understand what that may mean.

Smooth, soft, lips press against your chapped ones, a sweet delight getting slid into your mouth and mixing with the rose that invades your nostrils. A slight string of spit is split between the two of you as Wanda uses her hot tongue to push the piece all the way into your mouth. You both stay like that for a moment, Wanda gazing into your eyes while you stare bashfully into hers.

Yet, just as quick as it happened, it’s gone again… And much to your own surprise, that may be the saddest part of the entire day.

But you can’t be sad for too long as gentle fingers wipe your tears away and a deeper voice asks if you want another piece.

So, this is why the two redheads like kissing so much. You think to yourself as Natasha kisses you with just as much worship as her wife had while the chocolaty goodness seems irrelevant.

They continue it like that back and forth. Wanda gives you one piece, then Natasha, then they share a piece, and so on. It still takes you a while for the tenseness inside your muscles to loosen, but toward the end, you are eager for each piece and wait with impatient eyes as the redheads share some.

It may not have been an immediate fix, but Wanda is more than happy with the result of her little test. For now, Wanda will lessen your portions until you seem happier, and she will have to look out for signs of your dislikes, but if all goes according to plan, with a little help from a secret sugary treat, and maybe a kiss here and there, your trust in her should build to be strong.

Even stronger than Natasha’s if Wanda gets her way.

Which she always does.

[ohdeerfully]

Can I request Alastor baking or cooking for reader? Maybe making one of his old mother recipes for reader while he wears a silly apron or something? I'm loving all of your one shots!

☀️ anon

short but sweet!! i made it a human al story, hope thats cool! i really enjoyed writing this one but now i want cookies (,:

btw tumblr is really lacking with human alastor gifs so sorry guys

Sweet Treat

Human!Alastor x Reader (fluff)

TW: reader is implied female but pronouns arent used/doesnt effect story much. other than that none!

join my discord!

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Alastor was always aware of your wants and desires as if the glasses he wore helped him read directly into your mind. You were tired? Okay, the bedsheets were freshly dry and warm. You were hungry? He already had a pot of aromatic food cooking in your kitchen. Thirsty? Here’s some ice water. Headache? Oh, here’s a remedy that he learned from a traditional healer in the city. 

You get the idea.

You had come home from a long day of work at the speakeasy you performed in, a hankering for something sweet filling your mind as your mouth watered at the idea of sugary goodness. You fiddled with your keys for a little, eyes slightly bleared from both a mixing of light alcohol consumption and just general sleepiness. No, those are your work keys… no, that’s to your office… Finally, you grasped your manicured fingers over the correct silver key and jittered it into the hole.

You slumped your body against the door dramatically as you pushed it open, a loud sigh escaping your lips to announce you were home. You knew Alastor was already home, seeing as his shoes were tucked neatly in the nearby rack and jacket hung up against the wall. Usually Alastor would join you when you were at work late, both to watch you perform and to walk you home, but he had been caught up with his own work and likely got home not long before you. A light smile dusted your face as you recalled how desperately sorry he sounded when he phoned you a few hours ago—it was sweet. 

Your own heels were unceremoniously kicked off in the general direction of the shoe rack—you’d fix them up later. Right now, you were mostly focused on the sound of a spoon scraping against a bowl as Alastor was doubtlessly stirring something. Your interest was piqued, and your stomach growled at the idea of food.

“Ah, you’re home a bit early,” He said as you rounded the corner, your gaze immediately fixating on the mixing bowl propped against the junction of his elbow as he stirred with his other hand. There was a plume of flour resting against the left rim of his glasses. “A bit too early for my surprise.” 

Your eyes then traveled down to the apron he wore, a black one that had a silhouette of a deer and text that read “best buckin’ cook.” You had gotten it for him as a joke for your anniversary due to his fondness for hunting and deer.

“Yeah, Ms. Ruby let me off early if I performed a couple songs in a row,” There was an eye roll as you said this. You pursed your lips as you approached him, gingerly taking his glasses off to clean the mess from the glass. His eyes held a slight squint as he looked at you, slightly unfocused without his aides. “I’m guessin’ you knew I’d want something sweet, then?”

A smirk crossed his lips as if you asked the most obvious question in the world. Which, considering how he always knew what you wanted, it kind of was the most obvious question in the world.

“What kind of suitor would I be if I didn’t know what my darling desires?” He leaned a little closer as he spoke, halting the stirring motion. His voice had dropped to a teasing husk, and your ears tingled at the hint of that Cajun accent you loved so much. It didn’t help that you were just a tad loopy with alcohol.

“And I love you for that,” You said, trying to ignore the heat in your face. You pressed the glasses back against his face, using your finger to push them up the bridge of his nose whilst simultaneously gently moving his face away from your own. “As soon as I wanted a treat I knew I’d come home to one.”

“It also helps that you always want one when you work late, love,” He mused, turning away and walking back to the counter that had a splay of ingredients. There was also a mess of flour—likely from the same incident that dirtied his glasses—but you bit back a comment. You knew he’d clean it up after.

With a hop you had sat yourself on a tall chair next to the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the cold granite top as you watched him work on mixing in the rest of the ingredients. He seemed a little nervous now that you were watching him, his stirring a bit stiff and measuring a little overanalyzed, but he kept working nonetheless.

The oven chimed when the preheating was done, and at that point Alastor was already in the process of portioning out little balls of dough. A proud smile donned his face.

“I think this is the fastest I’ve gotten to this point,” He claimed, not looking up from the task in front of him. You loved the way his brown hair fell in neat, light curls over his eyes. His glasses had begun to slip slightly down his nose, but he quickly pushed them back with a knuckle. “I nearly beat the timer.”

With an absent nod and quiet ‘congrats’ you eyed the nearly empty bowl and the discarded rubber spatula that sat nearby with velvety, doughy sweetness still clinging on the edges. You slowly raised your hand and inched towards it.

A hand snatched it up at the last second, and you slumped backwards in the chair with a defeated whine. Alastor waved it at you with a teasing grin. 

“So greedy,” He chided, although he did so unseriously. “I can’t believe you would spoil the taste before I even finished baking them… after I worked so hard…” There was a fake pout in his voice as his lips turned down, one hand on a hip and leaned against the counter behind him. You rolled your eyes in response and folded your arms.

“You know it never even tastes the same when it bakes,” You pursed your lips as you looked away from him towards the oven. You could see the faint silhouette of the cookies he had put in just a minute ago, now slowly flattening. “C’mon… Just a sample… please?” You drew out your plea, pressing your face between your hands as you tried your best to look at him with wide cutesy eyes.

It didn’t seem to work on him in the slightest, as he only looked down on you with a raised eyebrow. There was, though, a soft change in his brown eyes as his gaze swept over your face, though you were sure it had nothing to do with your current charming tactics. He was just, in all ways you can imagine, insanely devoted to you—he would tell you, very rarely as he had trouble expressing tender words, how he found you to be the most beautiful being he had ever been lucky enough to see. 

As corny as it felt if you thought about it too hard, you actually believed him when he said he would kill for you. It was something many men would exaggerate when courting, and they never truly meant it, but there was a glimmer of crazed obsession in his eyes when he had told you it one time. A look you had no choice but to take seriously—you tried not to think about it too much.

He sighed dramatically as he threw out his hand to bestow upon you… the spatula. You took it with a pleased grin and put a corner in your mouth to taste the dough. You could almost see the sparkles dancing around you as the light sweetness touched your tongue. You could see Alastor’s proud grin out of the corner of your eye but you chose not to meet his gaze and inflate his ego even more.

The two of you chatted idly about your respective days for ten or so minutes as you waited for the cookies to bake. You always had something to complain about considering the nature of your job—it was always either some drunk bonehead interrupting your show, or some drama between the other performers, or some hatred towards your employers… always something, and he always listened, equally attentive every time no matter how repetitive it was. He, on the other hand, never had much to say about his work. He was just a radio host, after all.

The little white timer finally went off, and Alastor cracked open the oven door to peek. He seemed satisfied enough with the result as he quickly removed them, gripping the pan with a small towel and carefully setting it down against the stove-top. The room was immediately filled with the warm, sweet aroma of fresh baked cookies. 

Just a few more minutes of waiting, but you could barely contain yourself when the cookies had finally cooled a bit and firmed up outside of the oven. When Alastor presented one to you it took all your self control not to just straight up bite it out of his hand. 

The cookie had a crisp, golden outside that gave way with a light crunch when you bit into it. The inside was soft and fluffy with a taste of vanilla and chocolate. You sighed loudly in glee at the experience, resting your head against your hand as you chewed.

“You really are the best ‘buckin’’ cook, Al,” You complimented, watching him as he cleaned up his mess from the process. “This recipe is new, right?”

“Ah, not really,” He admitted. You wanted to play offended at the fact he had never made these for you before, but the aura around him seemed to suddenly get a bit too serious for that. There was a vacant look in his eye, but his lips held a tender smile. You took another bite of your cookie as you waited for him to continue.

“It was one of my momma’s recipes, I actually found it today in the box of her stuff I keep,” He was washing out the dishes as he spoke. You could tell by the light glaze in his eye that he was reliving a fond but bitter memory. “She was the best baker I know.”

“If these cookies tell me anything, I would have to agree,” You were licking a glob of melted chocolate off your thumb as you spoke. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

Alastor nodded with a hum, agreeing with your statement. He told you many times before how much she would’ve loved you. You knew he didn’t like sweets, but you tried to prompt him to try one with you in an attempt to lighten the mood. He refused, as expected.

You stood from your seat and began to help him clean, much to his chagrin as he tried to push you towards your room to get ready for bed, but you forced yourself back towards the kitchen and stubbornly began rubbing the dough out of the mixing bowl. He sighed and yielded.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence that was only broken here and there by utensils clinging and water splashing. You rested your head against his shoulder as you absently ran a dry towel over the now clean rubber ladle, and he pressed a featherlight kiss against the top of your head in response.

Maybe he could teach you the recipe later.

[topguncortez]

A Change of Plans | B. Floyd

Bob Floyd Masterlist | Main masterlist

synopsis: Bob has been trying to find the perfect way to propose to you.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, cursing, cute shit

If there was one thing about Bob Floyd, it was that he is a perfectionist.

It was your birthday, and Bob had set up the whole day for you to spend with Penny, Phoenix and Amelia. Bob had planned the whole thing for you. You were doing brunch at 10, manicures at noon, followed by massages, and then dinner with the whole dagger squad at the end of the day, with a very special gift at the end.

Bob had been planning on proposing to you for months, but could never find the right time. The dagger squad was growing tired of him waiting for the moment to be perfect. The first time he was going to do it, Javy caused a bar fight and he had to step in. The second time, Fanboy had accidentally elbowed you while playing darts and gave you a bloody nose. The third time, Bob forgot the ring at home. Now, tonight would be the fourth time, and he was going to do it come hell or high water.

Bob was wrapping up the ring box when he heard the front door open. He looked like a deer in the headlights as there was wrapping paper, scissors, tape and the black velvet ring box on the bed. Frantically he pushed everything on the floor away from the door and threw a blanket on top of it as you walked into the bedroom, your eyes bloodshot and red.

"Hey," Bob scrambled off the bed and over to you, "What's wrong?" He gently touched your face and you pushed him away, running straight for the ensuite bathroom. He followed you in, wincing as you crashed down to the floor and pushed the toilet lid up, and getting sick. Without hesitation he walked over to you and kneeled down behind you, holding your hair back and rubbing your back.

You took a couple deep breaths as you leaned over, "Got sick at brunch."

"Oh my god," Bob said and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, "You're not hot. Maybe it was something you ate, or did you drink too much?"

"I," You gagged again, and shook your head, "I hardly ate or drank. It all just. . . .taste weird. I just need to lay down, I feel like a trash can." You grimaced as you closed the toilet lid and flushed it. Bob sat down on the floor and guided you back to sit against him.

'Well. . . . looks like fourth time is not the charm,' Bob thought as he gently ran his hands up and down your arms, and rested his chin on top of his head. You couldn't help but close your eyes and start to doze off in his arms, Bob smiling softly at you.

"Let's get you to bed," Bob said to you softly. You sat up a bit, letting Bob move from behind you. You reached both your arms up towards him and he pulled you off the ground. He walked you to bed with a gentle hand on your back, and helped you get settled, "Do you want anything?" He asked running a hand over your hair.

"Yes but we don't have them," You said.

"What is it?" Bob shook his head.

"Dill pickle chips," You said with a smile on your face, "God, I have been craving pickles non-stop, and I hate pickles."

Bob chuckled, "I'll door dash 'em," He kissed your forehead. He closed the bedroom door softly, pulling his phone out from his pocket and texting the group chat, canceling the plans for the night.

'Badass on Board: plan D is a no go. Y/N is sick. Plan E is now in affect'

'Hangman: How many more plans do we let him try before we just take over?'

--- --- ---

Four days. That's currently how many days in a row you spent every single night with your head in the toilet. You weren't sure what was going on. You felt fine until about five clock on the dot and you were vomiting everything you had ate that day. Bob was growing extremely concerned by it.

"I think you should go to the doctor," Bob said as he placed a cool rag on your face. You were laying in his La-Z-boy recliner, with about five blankets on you and a puke bucket next to you.

"I'm fine," You said, "Now give me the remote, the Bachelor-"

"Y/N," Bob warned and snatched the remote away, "Only way I'll let you watch that awful show is if you promise me you'll go to the doctor tomorrow."

"It is not an awful show, Robert," You argued, missing the point.

Bob sighed, putting his hands on his hips, "Y/N M/N-"

"Did you just middle name me?" You gasped.

"Sweetheart!"

"Fine!" You rolled your eyes, "I'll go to urgent care tomorrow, now please, the Bachelor."

Bob smiled and kissed your forehead giving you the remote, "Turn it on. I wanna know if Melody got a rose or not."

--- --- ---

Bob made you text him a picture of yourself at Urgent Care, so he knew that you actually went (cause he knew you well enough that you wouldn't). He smiled at the dorky selfie you sent him of you pointing at an anatomy poster.

"So we are on plan E," Hangman said, walking into the Rec room and sitting down on the couch next to Bob, "How many more plans do we got there Bobby boy?"

"As many as I need," Bob answered and tucked his phone back into his flight suit, "Couldn't help that she got sick. Didn't feel like the right time to try and make her come to dinner and ask her when she didn't feel well."

"Why do you have to do it front of all of us at all?" Rooster asked, and Bob looked up at him, "Yeah, you wanna make it special have your friends and family there, but I mean, maybe it's just not in fate for it to happen like that."

Bob and Jake shared a look, never have they ever heard Rooster say the word "fate" in a sentence.

Rooster rolled his eyes, "I'm dating a girl who's into astrology alright."

Jake blinked a couple of times and shook his head, "Anyway, Birdbrain is right. Maybe it's just meant to be a thing between you two. We can celebrate after you pop the question."

Bob nodded, and stood up from the couch, and walked briskly to the door.

"Where are you going?!"

"Executing plan E: everyone stays away!"

Bob wasn't shocked to find your car in the driveway when he arrived home. He also wasn't shocked when he saw the light from the hall bathroom on. He walked over to the bookshelf in the hallway, pulling one of the books out. He had cut a whole into the pages to hide the ring in. Smiling, he grabbed the black box and walked down the hallway.

"Y/N," Bob said, as he walked in. You picked your head up and looked at him.

"Bob," You sighed.

"Marry me?" "I'm pregnant" the two of you said at the same time.

"What?!" "What?!"

"Marry you?!" "You're pregnant?!"

Bob shook his head, "Okay, you first."

"I went to urgent care like you instructed, and I guess the every day throwing up is actually delayed morning sickness, and I'm pregnant," You said, "Your turn."

Bob looked down at the ring box in his hand, and held it up shyly, "I've been trying to find the right time-"

"I know," You said, and Bob looked shocked, again.

"You know!? What do you mean, you know?"

You laughed, and pushed yourself up from the bathroom floor. You were a bit shaky and Bob reached his hands out to steady you. You grabbed his hands and squeezed them.

"Bob, honey, I love you a lot, but you are horrible at hiding things," You said, "Baby, I found the ring box the day you came home with it cause you left it sitting on the counter."

Bob's jaw dropped, "I wondered how it got in my sock drawer. . . But, what do you say? Will you marry me?" He opened the black box, showing the square cut diamond and gold band.

"Bob Floyd, I would've married you the first time you tried to ask me."

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[ozarkthedog]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary: while working as a bartender at Prospero's Orgy, a masked woman follows you into a storage room.

warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. verna x fem!reader. f/f. smut. fingering. slight dom/sub vibes. no spoilers (that i know of). no beta.

word count: 1.3k

author’s note: tbh, I’ve only watched 2 eps so far but I had to write something with her. I don’t know anything about the series so forgive me if there are inaccuracies.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

Booming music shakes the walls of the old, brick building as you make your way to the storage room. You’ll be amazed if the orgy goers don’t drink their way through all the liquor before the night even properly begins. You heard someone mention something about midnight and rain. You pray your boss will let you go home before all hell breaks loose.   

You unlock and shove open the storage room door with a sigh. This was not really your kind of scene. You could handle yourself in a bar and catered events, you’d worked plenty of them before but an orgy? You don’t know why you signed yourself up for this. Sure, the money was good but the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned facility, the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

The room was dank and barely lit as you graze the various shelves for a case of Glenfiddich. You find the last case on the floor near the back of the room when the storage room door creaks and then shuts with a bang.

Fear prickles your skin.

It’s probably some horny couple looking for a secret place to get off. Still, you clear your throat before nervously calling out, “Hello?”

You scream when a masked skull turns the corner of one of the shelves. You walk backward until a coarse brick wall catches your clothing and halts your retreat. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” A gentle voice says from beneath the mask. The woman is draped in a hooded, sparkly red cape that barely covers her body. The black lingerie she’s wearing underneath leaves little to the imagination.

You clutch your chest as you’re taken aback by the stunning blonde when she unties her mask and reveals herself.

“I couldn’t help myself.” She admits, stepping closer before setting down her mask on one of the shelves. “I saw you from across the room and I…” she trails off looking at you as if she’s seeing the sky for the first time.  

“Oh my. Aren’t you precious?” She coos, stepping closer. Blonde hair frames her face like a halo although something in your gut told you she wasn’t an angel.

Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve never seen such a beautiful woman so up close before.

“What are you doing in such a place?” She ponders with curious eyes. They travel the length of your body and back again. Something wicked and dark encases those hazel orbs making you swallow down the lump in your throat.

Your cheeks burn as you stumble over your words. “Bartender- I’m a bartender.” You catch your bottom lip with your teeth and tug unconsciously on it. Your flight response kicks into high gear as the lady in red seals the gap between your bodies.

You whimper as she presses her barely clothed frame against yours. The brick wall behind you leaves no chance of escape as your heart bangs steadily against your ribs.

“Shh. There’s no need to be nervous.” She states softly while cupping your chin in her palm. She drags a perfectly manicured thumb across your bottom lip and tenderly releases it from your teeth. “You’re something I rarely encounter.”

You’re frozen in place, like a deer in headlights, waiting for the inevitable when she leans in and time stops. She brushes her lips over yours, so tender and soft, you try to keep the whimper that bubbles up at bay but to your embarrassment, it escapes.

She pulls away with a grin. “You really are precious.” The apple of your cheek is warm under her thumb as she rubs the soft patch of skin. “So sweet. I’d love to hear you sing.”

Your brow quirks until you feel her hand sliding down your belly. She catches your wild eyes in a firm stare. “Tell me to leave and I will.” She states while lifting the hem of your skirt and snaking her hand beneath the material. “Or will you allow me to experience your seraphic nature?”

Your core clenches as she palms your mound when you don’t send her away. Her nails drag playfully over the thin cotton of your panties before she tugs them to the side and finds your molten heat. An illicit sob tears from your lips as she teases your dipping folds with deft fingers. 

She strums your core with expertise leaving you a wanton mess in her grasp. Her thumb circles your clit with tight movements, drawing your bliss out and into the open. Your mouth drops in an ethereal sound as she takes you apart with ease.

She smothers her body over yours, her lingerie covered breasts close to spilling as she secures you against the brick wall even harder. “Such pretty sounds from such a pretty girl.”

She laves at the softness of your neck, feeling the pulsating beat beneath the thin flesh as she drowns you in pleasure. Her tongue leaves a hot, wet trail over your neck and down your clavicle as you shake under her lewd touch. 

Two deft fingers curl their way into your soaked channel, spreading and molding your warmth to her liking. She rubs along your velvet walls, finding which spots make you shiver and which make you sing the loudest for her.  

“It’s fun tasting the other side, isn’t it?” She asks despite your impending rapture. Her hazel eyes glimmer with wickedness. “The grime. The debauchery.”

Wet, sticky thwaps fill the room as she spreads you open. She drinks down every moan and gasp that tumbles from your lips as she fucks with her fingers you into abandon. She tips your head to her chest as she pulls one of her breasts free from a lacy lingerie cup.

“But you’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?” She claims as she feeds you a firm breast. You groan into her flesh and suckle the nipple she offers. You twirl your tongue around the pert bud and relish the soft gasp that she lets loose.

“That’s a good girl.” She praises while stroking the base of your skull and scissoring her fingers against your slick walls. Your essence drips down your thighs, staining and marking your skin but you could care less as this strange woman makes you feel things you never have before. 

She hooks her fingers and grazes that spongy spot behind your clit and your body goes ridged. Every nerve in your body sings, wanting to cry out and praise her for choosing you. Your hands lock onto her shoulders, too afraid to let go, worried that if you move she’ll disappear and it’ll all have been a dream.

“It’s alright.” She coos, her eyes growing soft as your core quivers around her digits. “Let go, my precious girl. I’ve got you.”

The knot buried deep in your belly snaps. You come with a raspy wail against her chest, riding out your bliss on her fingers while she holds you in her arms. 

She sucks her two cream coated fingers into her mouth and cleans them with a moan. Your mind goes numb at the image and you do your best to not crumble to her high-heeled feet.

“I must return to the party now.” She says, fixing the skull mask back over her face. She stares at you from behind the mask for a silent moment before weaving an arm around your back and tugging you with her toward the door. 

“You’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t the place for someone like you. Leave while you can.” Her tone left no room for argument even though you knew you were still on the clock. 

You catch yourself on the door frame and spin on your heel, catching her otherworldly gaze. “Will I see you again?”

The lady in red smiles under her mask. “One day.”

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

[rosanna-writer]

Out of the Woods (2/3)

An AU that diverges from canon after Rhysand leaves a head spiked in the garden. Aware of the unsnapped mating bond and unwilling to get between another High Lord and his mate, Tamlin hands Feyre over to Rhysand. Panicked, shocked, and desperate, Rhys scrambles to gain Feyre’s trust, find her a hiding place, and cover his tracks before returning Under the Mountain. And then learns the hard way that Feyre Archeron can never leave well enough alone.

Another update for @officialfeysandweek <3

Some text is lifted directly from both A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Mist and Fury, and just a note that I've chosen not to use warnings for this fic.

Ch. 1 | Read the second chapter Here on AO3 or under the cut.

Sweat dripped from my brow. A muggy, heavy, oppressive heat blanketed the woods, the sort of weather I fantasized about on the coldest winter nights, then silently cursed when the seasons changed. Warm weather meant long days covered in bug bites and desperately hunting to save enough coin to tide us through the next winter.

This wasn't the temperate warmth of the Spring Court. This was summer.

But I could hardly complain. I passed enough bushes with plump red berries to put a damper on my gnawing hunger, and I had plenty of daylight to burn while I searched for a place to sleep.

I'd need to eat something more substantial eventually. But I'd starved enough to know I had until morning to get my bearings before the hunger pangs became too severe.

The trees looked no different from the ones below the Wall. Older, perhaps, more gnarled and covered in moss, but familiar. I spotted a few ordinary birds and squirrels in the branches, but…far fewer of them than I'd expect.

As if something routinely picked them off.

Around mid-afternoon, I came across a deer carcass, reduced to nothing more than bone. Hardly unusual—bugs and rot came for everything eventually. But when I crept closer, I noticed scorch marks on the ribs and antlers.

I didn't stop to examine it—more urgently than finding food, I needed fresh water. And though my pack was full of tools courtesy of Rhysand, he'd neglected to leave me with a map of this place. I'd have to locate a stream on my own.

Once, I passed a crumbling stone tower, the sort with long, narrow slits for archers to shoot through. The last remnant of something, though the ivy-covered stones were so worn down that I couldn't say what. A few hours later, I passed it again, though I was absolutely certain I'd never doubled back.

And I could've sworn I spotted a face peering down at me from the top.

I bolted through the trees and didn't stop running until I nearly collapsed in a heap. My ragged breathing echoed in the too-quiet forest, and I nearly vomited onto a patch of toadstools. But I was still utterly, blessedly alone.

A few hours later, I found the stream. Later than I would have liked, but the water ran clear and cold—at first, I assumed, due to the snow capping the mountain peeking high above the trees to the west. But strangely, it ran towards the mountain and not away.

I didn't question it. A few fish swam in the water, and if I wanted to catch a few to cook for dinner, I needed to hurry up and find a sharp stick to use as a makeshift spear. The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon. And then I'd need to start a fire and find a flat place to camp, ideally with a boulder to block the wind…

I hadn't missed this. The Spring Court had been a welcome reprieve from sunburn and my undershirt sticking to my back and too many tasks to complete before darkness fell. I hated feeling cooped up inside, but I preferred the safety of the manor's walled, manicured gardens to the harsh woods.

Rhysand had said to keep hidden, and a fire might as well be a signal flare. But I needed to eat, so I risked it.

A strange, suspicious mist descended the moment the kindling caught the spark. I shivered. All day, the sky had been a clear, cloudless blue, no signs of rain or fog.

My stomach growled, and I busied myself with coaxing the campfire to life, ignoring the tang of magic causing the hair at the back of my neck to rise. I'd learned from other hunters that no good ever came from acknowledging any spirits in the woods.

When lights began to dance in the distance, playful and inviting, a promise of treasure if I followed them deeper into the trees, I ducked my head and dutifully ate my fish. Something called my name, and I pretended it hadn't.

By the time I'd cleared away the bones and ash and made myself comfortable in my bedroll, whatever was out there had stopped trying to bother me. Perhaps it was reckless, but I kept the tent in my pack and slept in the open that night to see the stars.

It had been so long since I'd had a chance to admire them.

I let the sight of it soothe me as the full weight of my exhaustion and grief and the terror of the day finally hit me. The Spring Court had become my home, a place where I'd found true happiness. With Tamlin, I'd had peace and stability, more than just a comfortable bed, a full belly, and time to paint.

I might even have fallen in love with him.

But he'd handed me over to Rhysand without a fight. Cast me out, as if—

You can call me Rhys, you know. No one uses my full name besides my prisoners and my enemies. No invisible talons, this time—his words floated into my head as if they'd been carried on a night-kissed breeze.

It was as gentle as an intrusion into my mind could be, but I still sat bolt upright in shock. My hand flew to my chest. "What the hell?" I hissed aloud.

I'll teach you to shield to avoid this in the future.

You'd better, I grumbled, laying back down. But how did it go? Are you alright?

She believed the lie, though it disappointed her to hear she'd lost out on an opportunity to torture you to death. I had to…cheer her up. For quite a while.

My blood ran cold. I wished I had something better to say or a way of thanking him for bothering to save me and enduring that bitch's touch. But all I had was, I'm sorry.

Could I trouble you for a favor? If you don't mind me looking out your eyes, I'd like to see the stars.

I nodded, then remembered he wasn't actually here with me and said, Alright.

I braced myself for slashing talons, but again, they never came. Instead, I felt Rhys's mind curl up against mine, as if he'd slid into the bedroll with me. I'd never been close to someone like this, our very souls sharing breath.

We couldn't hide from each other like this. It was deeply, painfully intimate to feel him brushing up against the very core of who I was. But…I wasn't afraid.

Thank you, he said, and pressed this close, along with the words, I could sense his gratitude I'd let him in, his homesickness, his exhaustion from keeping up a charade for so long, his shame that he'd allowed Amarantha to bring him so low and hadn't fought back.

And guilt—so much guilt—for all the lives he hadn't been able to save.

I'm glad I could help.

We stayed like that for a long while, silent and intertwined as we stared up at the moon together.

I know you have questions, Rhys said eventually. Just ask.

What does it mean to be mates? I know we have a….a bond. But I don't understand why that makes Tamlin so afraid of you. Or why'd he just let you walk into the manor and take me.

In the Night Court, it has been illegal for millennia for a male to kill anyone who makes advances towards his mate. Other courts, like Spring, aren't quite so modern. You are your own person, with every right to reject the bond after it snaps into place. But in the eyes of many faeries, you belong to me, and our kind have gone to war for less.

I hadn't realized a mating bond could be rejected. Perhaps Rhys was merely biding his time, ensuring he knew where to find me so that when it finally snapped, he could be rid of me as quickly as possible.

A High Lord wouldn't want a human girl. Especially not one so…prickly as me.

A harsh, bitter laugh echoed in my mind. The world believes I rule over and delight in a Court of Nightmares, and beyond our borders, my people are hated. I wouldn't expect my fated equal to be particularly cheerful.

It did seem absurd when he put it like that. I'd known Rhys for hardly a day, but he moved like an apex predator, terrifying even with mere scraps of power at his disposal. I couldn't imagine him with someone soft.

I wouldn't have expected my fated equal to exist at all. And not merely because I was human.

The next words were so quiet, I almost thought I'd imagined them. Neither did I.

We went silent again. I squirmed in my bedroll, utterly undignified as I tried adjusting it to let in a bit of the cool night air without taking my eyes off the stars. But still, it was easier than talking.

I should let you rest, Rhys said eventually, the words laced with reluctance.

I didn't want him to go. Not because I'd miss him, but because I didn't want to be alone in this strange forest, sharing the dark with creatures intent on drowning me or eating me or or both. Since coming to Prythian, I'd never felt farther from home.

Stay a little longer?

Alright. Until you fall asleep.

I rolled over, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. Sweet dreams, Rhys.

Sleep took me before I heard his reply. Exhaustion, perhaps—it had been quite the day—or he'd used his powers to ensure I drifted off quickly. But regardless of which, my sleep was dreamless and restful, enough that when the sun rose, I dragged myself out of the bedroll without too much trouble.

Another breakfast of foraged berries, and then I broke camp and continued to wander. If it rained, I'd need to build a shelter; I didn't relish the thought of finding a cave to huddle in. The Mother only knew what kind of creature I'd have to share it with if I did.

Around midday, I'd found an ash tree and perched in it as I used a sharp rock to fashion a few branches into stakes. The jeweled hunting knife that Lucien had gifted me was probably still in my bedroom in the manor, and I was cursing my stupidity for leaving it upstairs during lunch when a talon brushed against my mind.

I bit back a surprised shriek and nearly fell out of the tree.

Plotting my demise, Feyre darling? The words glittered with wicked delight—as if the thought of me attempting to kill him was exciting.

Scare me like that again, and I just might.

Something in him…dimmed. Like a star winking out. I didn't mean to frighten you.

You said you'd teach me to shield myself, I said pointedly.

I know. Amarantha doesn't trust me enough to allow me into her meeting with an emissary representing her king in Hybern, so while we have some time together, start by shoving me out.

I didn't know how. Yesterday, he'd speared my mind so completely, his talons digging into me from every possible angle. He'd surrounded me from the inside out.

At least make an attempt. No mate of mine should go down without a fight, he hissed.

I imagined planting my palm on his face and wiping away a smirk as I pushed him far away from me. And to my surprise…it worked. With those claws at a distance, I took a shaking breath.

Not yet—I can still get back in. A retreat isn't over until you've blocked the enemy out entirely.

Rhys wasn't my enemy; he'd said that last sentence like a rule that had been drilled into him over and over. He hadn't sounded like a High Lord, but like….a military commander. A trained warrior.

Lucien had said he wasn't old enough to have fought in the War, but…was Rhys?

I'll answer that question if you put some gods-damned walls up, he said.

Right. He could still hear me. I imagined a wall of adamant snapping down, black as night and a foot thick. His claws scraped against it but did not find their way through.

I pictured a crack in the wall, just thick enough for my voice to pass through. Good enough?

An excellent start. The words were ribboned with pride as they passed through the opening I'd created for him.

I couldn't remember the last time anyone had been proud of me.

My shields had either kept that thought from Rhys, or he'd chosen to ignore it and said, To answer your question, yes. I began training in a war-camp at the age of eight and later commanded a legion in the War. I was quite young—for a faerie, at least—when the fighting broke out. My father was still High Lord then.

If I thought too hard about how old that must have made him, I'd end up with a headache. And I couldn't imagine how he must have felt, an ancient immortal mated to a teenager who'd grow old and die in the blink of an eye.

Not that I would have asked because an even more horrible thought occurred to me. You were one of the faeries who fought alongside the humans, right? Not…the others?

The Night Court was part of the mortal-faerie alliance. Was that not part of your history classes in school?

Perhaps it would have been if I'd ever attended.

I could practically feel him go still in that preternatural way faeries did. I said nothing, just waited for something horrible and judgmental, some cruel comment about ignorant humans.

But it never came.

Apologies. I shouldn't have assumed.

He'd said he was sorry twice in as many days, far more consideration than I'd ever expected from a High Lord. I had no choice but to trust him, but…he still seemed intent on earning it anyway.

Before I could respond, Rhys swore to himself and said, I have to go. She's summoning me. Keep practicing—raise and lower your shields until it's second nature.

He pulled out of my mind without saying goodbye. And in this strange, still forest, I didn't even have the wind for company.

***

The days blurred together after that. I spent most of them on my feet, mostly concerned with finding enough food. Fish from the stream and a few foraged plants would sustain me in the meantime, but I needed something more permanent than a tent if I wanted to fell a deer and preserve the meat.

I stopped flinching each time talons knocked against my shields. Rhys slipped into my mind at every opportunity, even if it was just a few minutes alone. In those brief snatches of time, when there was only time for a single question, he only ever asked if I was alright.

It was the most anyone had ever fussed over me in years.

Most nights, we spoke mind-to-mind for longer. We didn't talk about the fact that Amarantha usually slumbered beside him when his talons brushed my shields, but I could sense it. Though I'd eventually made a lean-to for shelter, I crawled out of it to let him see the stars through my eyes.

It helped, I think.

Enough that I figured he tolerated my questions as a thank you. I peppered him with them at every opportunity, interrogating him about magic and the Night Court and what the other High Lords were like. When he finally deemed my shields strong enough, he showed me memories of a hidden city nestled deep in his territory.

Velaris, the City of Starlight. A place of peace and prosperity and so much art that I wanted to weep. I missed painting.

Before long, a summer thunderstorm rolled in, the dark clouds blocking any decent view of the stars, and—damn my luck—it was a new moon. I huddled under the roof I'd fashioned of branches and brambles, curled up in my bedroll and desperate to stay dry.

There would be no tracking the constellations. And I assumed that meant I wouldn't hear from Rhys, either. But to my shock, invisible talons caressed my mind anyway. Always the tone of surprise with you, he said as he slipped through the opening I'd made for him.

I can't show you the sky tonight. I figured you'd rather rest than stay up just to talk to me.

Have you considered that speaking to you is one of the few things I like better than watching at the stars?

I hadn't. At best, I was a complication that made his already miserable life Under the Mountain more difficult. And I spent my days wandering around the woods in search of food, which hardly made for scintillating conversation.

We have a magical thread tying our souls together. You don't need to bother trying to flatter me.

I'm not. You think in textures and colors, and I could listen to you talk about it for eternity.

He meant it. And for an immortal…eternity wasn't an abstract concept. His mind nestled closer to mine, the closest thing he could manage to blocking the howling wind with his body.

So on my darkest night in the forest so far, I showed him the paintings I dreamed about—the images I'd collected and hoarded in my memory, keeping them safe until I had canvas in front of me again.

But I couldn't continue on like this forever. The days were still long, but they'd get shorter soon. And the weather would turn.

On occasion, Rhys managed to send me supplies that appeared in the lean-to—a canvas tarp, a lantern, another flint, all conjured from thin air. Even if he got his hands on winter gear, I doubted it would be enough to get me through the winter without losing a few fingers and toes to frostbite. I'd be alright, perhaps, if I managed to make myself a bow and the cold spared the fingers I used to draw back the string.

There was still time—the leaves on the trees hadn't yet begun to turn. But we needed a new plan.

I'd been mulling over possibilities when I'd stumbled upon my answer, as if the forest knew just what I needed. In search of more plants to forage, I'd wandered deeper into the trees than ever before.

I emerged in an unfamiliar clearing. A perfectly circular clearing, one that must have been made deliberately.

Because a small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and half-crumbling chimney sat in the center. Ordinary—almost mortal. There was even a well, its bucket perched on the stone lip, and a wood pile beneath one of the round windows of the cottage. No sound or light within—not even smoke puffed from the chimney.

I should have turned back. The few birds had gone quiet, the insects no longer buzzing. As sure sign of a predator lurking nearby.

This place was a trap. But I was growing desperate, and I longed for a bath and a bed and a proper roof over my head. So I took a few cautious steps down the path.

I could hear faint singing, the voice bright and clear. The lyrics that I could make out were horrible ones, something about sisters drowning one another. I paused.

The voice, honeyed and beautiful as it was, didn't seem to be luring me in. I took a cautious step back. Nothing tugged me forward. I tried again and made it all the way to the trees without any difficulty.

If I had to guess, whatever lived in the cottage could be reasoned with. It—she, perhaps?—wasn't a mindless beast. Still quite possibly intent on eating me, but…maybe not, if I could prove my worth or make a bargain.

Gathering my courage, I started down the path again. I raised my fist to knock, but the door swung open soundlessly. Practically inviting me in.

From the threshold, I could see shelves piled high with junk. The cottage was practically stuffed with everything from books to pottery to dolls to jewelry to taxidermied birds.

An immortal hoarder probably had winter survival supplies somewhere among the mess…

My gaze landed on the spinning wheel next. The humming, I realized, came from the steady turning as the cottage's occupant worked the thread. Her dark hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, but her hands were just a few shades too pale to be human.

She'd probably kill me if I stepped inside without permission. I took a breath, steadying myself, then rapped my knuckles on the weaver's door.

[weird-an]

tw Karen Wheeler trying to flirt with Billy

El wants to go to a pool for fun and no way in hell Jim is going to trust Mike Wheeler not to let her drown. She maybe have been in water tanks for telepathic shit, but he doesn't know if she can swim good enough. If it's okay, she can come here with Mike next time. Under supervision, of course.

It's a sunny day. The community pool is crowded, a bunch of kids are screaming and Jim eats his second ice cream to calm himself - it's terrible. Urban horror at its best.

El's eyes are big, she's happy and she's trying to convince Jim to swim a few laps, but Jim hates water. It's just too wet.

So he's walking over to the lifeguard to have a better overview, when he stops dead on his tracks. Karen Wheeler is standing next to the lifeguard, a manicured hand on his arm like she's trying to feel him up. She's smiling, all pink lipstick and blue eyeshadow. Like she dressed up to go to this ratty community pool full of annoying children.

Billy Hargrove stares at her, a frozen grin on his face. Jim can see his jaw working. He looks like a deer caught in the headlight. Karen would probably notice, if she wasn't to busy staring at his abs. He's so fucking young. He's the same age as her daughter.

Jim's temples throb. This isn't right. He clears his throat.

Karen turns around, but her fingers are still digging into Billy's skin.

"Oh, hi!" She's all saccharine and sweet. Jim feels sick. She doesn't notice how wrong this is.

"I need to borrow Billy for a moment," Jim says.

Karen tilts her head. "In a minute, okay?"

"Now," Jim says. He wishes he'd wear his badge and uniform right now and not his swim shorts with a bunch of hibiscus flowers on them. "You can talk to the kid another time."

That seems to sink in a little. Karen lets go of Billy. "I'll be out of your hair."

Billy stares at Jim. He's rubbing his arms where she touched him.

"What do you want?" he asks, blue eyes squinted a little.

"For her to stop touching you," Jim answers. It's the truth, why bother making something up?

"Oh," Billy says. He's still eyeing Jim warily, like he waits for Jim to grab him, too.

"Does she come here often?" Jim asks.

A tiny nod. Almost shy, like he doesn't know if he should really tell.

"Good thing my daughter wants to come here more often." Jim searches the pool for El. She's waving at him. Like she just waited for him to look over.

"Usually Saturdays," Billy mumbles.

"Maybe you could give El swimming lessons in return."

They watch El swim a little. She doesn't have any technique, but at least she's not drowning.

"She isn't doing too bad," Billy says. "You could easily-"

"I hate pools," Jim interrupts him. "Just as much as people like Wheeler."

He didn't ever except for Mike Wheeler to come only the second place for Wheeler he hates most.

"Alright, Chief." Billy clears his throat. "Thanks."

"No problem," Jim grumbles. They stand there in awkward silence for a second. A kid running along the poolside saves them.

Billy blows his whistle. "No running!"

Jim decides to join El at the pool. He'll keep an eye on Karen a while longer.

[zooophagous]

I don't think golf as a whole is a lost cause. For real the green spaces could really be kind of nice with just a little tweaking.

Like instead of a bunch of uniform invasive turf grasses that need a gozillion gallons of water to keep alive, why not just embrace the challenge of golfing in a desert or on a thatch of native grasses? I never got the appeal of a golf course in the desert or the mountains if it's the same as golfing literally anywhere else anyway.

"Oooh its too hard to golf on my game is going to suck" your game probably sucks anyway.

Take the new terrain as a personal challenge. Work with it don't alter it. Do some all terrain cross country golf.

Golf courses already serve as little respites for deer and birds even when they're all fakey and manicured to shit but with a leetle push they could be habitat again and you could still have a sidewalk and golf carts and little cocktails and such.