#maybe bo will be a vampire???

[number1120]

@arkunder’s Sinclair Band!AU has me thinking of a full-own fanfic book that I’ll need to write. I’ll add details later but I have a plan of what to do with these southern boys.

Stay tuned.

[workingforitallthetime]

tumblr please find me the gifs of dylan cozens consoling a weeping bo byram at the gold medal ceremony!!!!

[m4ymask]

Vampire squid girl who steals ink?

[gnomey22]

Hi! If you're up for sharing, I was curious which members of the Incident had the most interesting character development and growth? From either season.

Erica's the obvious answer, and there are other good options, but I'd have to say Bo. She interested me from the start, she had fun dynamics with the other characters, and while she fell into many of the same archetypes as Rose, she didn't feel nearly as defined by them as Rose was. She wasn't relevant during the middle of S2, but her moments here and there showed a mini-arc of improvement in her social skills, making more genuine connections than she did in the Realm of the Fey, and letting some people in on her insecurities. This all culminates in her, with help from her friends, striking down the Pop-Up Puppet to help another new friend, and finally asserting her ghostly presence as something true to her, instead of something she hides away for the sake of a job she doesn't even commit to. And then she's cool as hell and I love her. Great development, I could probably talk about it for hours if I had to

[trash-and-trash-accessories]

I love Spike so much. He's the most character of all time. But it's more than that. He's more than bleached hair, a pretty face, and bloodlust. He makes sense. The character makes sense.

He's William. He's still, despite it all, William Pratt, the god-awful poet and pathetic wet cat of a man under the thumb of mommy his whole life. He just wants to be loved and held and to satiate his unending bloodlust. He's not the big bad. He's pathetic.

He's burnt out on all the plots and schemes. Plots and schemes are Angel's thing. Serving some grand evil purpose is Darla's thing. Cruelty is Drusilla's thing. William Pratt is a poet and a mama's boy who just wants a strong woman to love him and tell him what to do. He's tired. He's so tired of the plots and schemes.

Sure, he knows how to have a good time, he plays kitten poker and sells demon eggs to the highest bidder but that's a matter of making money or hanging out with friends. It's not what he WANTS. The only thing he wants is to be loved by someone who loves him back. The problem is, he's toxic and obsessive. He doesn't fall in love. He becomes consumed. His whole world revolves around the object of his obsession. So when he's with Drusilla, he's the big bad evil guy doing schemes. Trying to impress her with extreme violence and death. Because that's what Drusilla is into. Torture and death. She's Catholic. And a vampire.

He also tries to impress Angel by killing Slayers because Angel is into Slayers and Angel and Spike canonically slept together don't at me. This man is bisexual.

When he's with Buffy he's a loyal dog. A bad boy, a part of the demonic world, but a dog nonetheless. He's a soulless monster but his obsession with Buffy turns him into one of the good guys. It's not natural for him. He feels it happening and he fights against it, but he's madly in love with her and he will be and do whatever it takes to impress her and make her love him back. He's obsessive.

He knows it, and he doesn't like that side of himself. He doesn't like that he's a pathetic dog. Sometimes he pushes against that side of himself. He tries to be a good person, for real. Not just a pathetic stalker of a man.

But he can't fight it. He is what he is.

And unfortunately that is a soulless vampire.

Hence that one scene that I pretend didn't happen.

But despite being definitionally evil, he can't stop being consumed the person he's obsessed with. Buffy wants him to have a soul. She wants him to not be the monster he is. So he rips William Pratt from his grave and resurrects him for her. He goes through hell to put his soul back inside his body for her. It takes her a long time to accept him again after what he did.

But he's the good boy now. He's a good dog.

Only she doesn't see him that way. In the end, he has her trust. Her love. She cares about him and sees him as her equal. As someone she can trust. She can't trust her friends because they're messy and constantly fucking up and betraying her because they don't understand what it is to be The Slayer. To have a human body and a human soul, with demonic power inside, and the divine mandate to sacrifice yourself for others, to save the world. No matter what that does to you.

Spike has a human soul, a demon inside him, trauma, and a divine mission to save the world. To sacrifice himself for everyone.

Spike is the only one who understands Buffy, and maybe the only one who ever will.

He's the perfect culmination of all her other relationships.

He fucks. Unlike Angel, Spike can fuck. He can experience joy alongside her.

He respects her strength and isn't emasculated or intimidated by the fact that she's stronger than him. He loves that she defeated a god. Unlike fucking Riley.

He's lived lifetimes worth of traumatic experiences. But he isn't currently experiencing an ongoing mental health crisis like Faith was.

And he likes poetry!

They even have the same ex boyfriend!

In conclusion He and Buffy are both the most character of all time and the narrative's favorites and therefore they are both perfect for each other and have the potential to be extremely toxic together and I'm so happy for them, I hope she pegs him, I know he would love that.

[small-sinclair]

For you

Obsessed!Bo Sinclair x reader

Tw: mention of blood, gore, Bo being obsessed with reader, mention of him wanted to drink blood, he’s a bit unhealthy, beheading in graphic detail!!!! (Maybe you can read this as I’m being a vampire if you squint?)

Let me know if you want more Obsessed!Bo Sinclair!

When he found you bleeding on the floor and crying in the House of Wax, he felt his heart shatter. He felt as if his world was falling apart because he couldn’t keep you safe.

“You’re hurt,” he whispers silently to himself, pain in his voice. There’s still blood in his hair from the latest kill, but the wild and untamed eyes turned worried and hurt when he sees your leg scrapped. Though it wasn’t it big or major, you still cried from the pain.

He knelt next to you and caressed your cheek. He thumbed away the stray tears that fell, and it felt like acid burning through his skin and bones. “Who did this to you?” He asked gently, his voice mixed in venom and silk. “Who did it?”

You leaned into his touch. “It doesn’t matter—“

“Sweetheart,” he starts, lifting your chin with his hand. “Tell me. Who did this?” You could see blood and red starting to fill his blue eyes. “Point to me where he went.”

You didn’t need to tell him anything as he heard the girl running away screaming from Vincent. He looked at you then at Vincent, and he slowly raised your hand to kiss it. His lips were soft and cracked against your skin. “I’ll be back, my sunflower,” he whispers in your skin. “I promise. Her head will be yours.”

He doesn’t let you say anything else as he stands up and leaves. He’s a hunter, born and raised. The taste of blood and bone will be forever stained in his teeth and tongue.

“She’s mine,” he hissed at Vincent as he walked past him, stealing the dragon-headed knife handle. He knows the girl can’t leave. She’s trap in this maze his mother created.

He’s like a wolf approaching a rabbit as he enters a room. He sees the girl trying to escape, and he only smirks. He loves it when they run and escape. Bo drew closer to her, the knife tight in his hand until his knuckles turned white. Flashes of you crying and bleeding in front of him made his heart burst and boil. The cries from the girl muffled away in his ears and her pleads go unheard. With a mighty shove, he had her on the ground. She coward away from him but he stood over her. He could see her lips moving, but her words didn’t reach him.

The only thing he heard was your broken sobs of pain and the acid tears that touched his skin. You’re his sunflower, his deity, the one he’ll hunt for. He felt like he failed you when he saw you hurt. Your tears and blood stained on his paints. He’s not worthy of your blood. He can’t be. The more he thought about you crying, the more he wanted the girl gone. He didn’t her in town. He didn’t want you to see her ever again.

He raised the knife high and brought it down. He felt the skin and the blade cutting, but it wasn’t fatal. He stabbed again and again, over and over, until she laid barely breathing and tears streaming down her cheeks. He felt the warmth of the blood on his face and smiled like a devil. He twirled the knife with his fingers and brought it over the girl’s throat, cutting it deep. Even when dead, he didn’t stop. He cut deeper and deeper under her head was clean off. He grabbed a fist full of her hair and lifted it high. He tilted his head to the side and examined the girl and her face without a care in his eyes. Bo stood with her head in his hand and walked back where you were.

Vincent was next to you as he helped bandage your leg. He frowns when he saw you, but his smile returns. He felt like a servant bring an offering to a royal as he came closer with the girl’s head hanging from her hair in his hands. He promised to bring you her head, and he was going to keep good. He would carved your name in his skin with a rusty spoon if you ask him— no, command him. You’re his everything, and he’ll serve you until the bitter end. He’d lick your blood off the floor and worship the ground you bled on if it pleases you! The very thought of it made his heart flutter just a bit along with the idea of you letting him taste your blood. He wanted to feel closer to you… he wanted to know how you would tasted.

He stands a couple feet away from you when he falls to his knees. You look over and horror fills your eyes once you see the girl’s lifeless eyes looking at you. You want to scream, but you can’t. You couldn’t.

Bo place the head between you and him as he lowered his head to a bow. “For you,” he says in a low voice. “Her head as promised.”

You can’t speak as you look at the head then back at Bo. He’s done it. He’s gone to far in loving you that it’s become unhealthy. The puppy blue eyes that he flashes, the hearts dancing in his eyes, and the sweet rose petals and daisy voice no longer feels safe. He did this for you.

Just.

For.

You.

Sickness fills you but your eyes roll back and you fell in Vincent’s arms.

[i-arch-my-backula]

Immortal Lovers: Lestat De Lioncourt x Male Reader x Louis Point Du Lac

This is for the IWTV show btw. I haven't finished season one as of writing this but I just know that I needed to write something for these two gay vampires.

Content includes: No warnings I can think of

New Orleans, 1923. You just came here from up north no more than five months ago, trying to escape what happened to you there, hoping and praying that being this far from home will grant you the ability to start life again. You got yourself an apartment, not a great one, but a livable one. Your previous work with making clothes afforded you a job with a tailor, making enough to start saving and live off of. 

You’re by no means living it large and super rich, but you’re making it somewhat, which is better than what happened where you were before. So here you are, leaving your new job as a tailor at nine pm, the sun having set a little over an hour ago. 

‘Let’s hope the rain isn’t too bad tonight. I can’t handle any more leaks in my ceiling.’ You think to yourself, locking up the shop and walking down the street, putting your hat on and your hands in your pockets. You hear the bustling nightlife of New Orleans, all the speakeasies hidden in the city muffling the sounds, but all other nightlife areas still bustling with everyone partying. 

But all you want to do is get back to your apartment, get in bed, and sleep these past couple of days off. You pass by several people on your way home, so when you pass by a black man and a man with blonde hair, you don’t pay them much mind. 

‘They look like a handsome pair.’ You think to yourself, glancing at them as you pass them by, not paying them much else mind. You hear them speak to each other, something you can’t quite make out, but it’s none of your business anyway. It’s a good idea to keep a low profile here. You don’t want the wrong kind of attention on yourself. If the wrong person finds you here and spreads the word around that you’re a homosexual, you’ll have to pack up and leave again. 

You pass by that restaurant near your house before finally getting back to your apartment, not even bothering to turn on the lights. You take off your shoes and suit jacket. You strip yourself down to your boxers and just get into bed, too tired to anything but sleep.

Your alarm goes off the next day and you shut it off, rubbing your eyes and sitting up in bed. You get ready for the day and take your wallet out of your pants pockets from yesterday. You open your wallet and find your business card missing, strange. But maybe it slipped out last night, no big deal, you’ll pick up another one tomorrow when you work again. 

After getting ready for the day you’re about to settle in to read a book when there’s a knock at your door, you open it up to find your boss, Mr. Westwood, outside waiting for you. 

“Ah, I’m glad your home Y/N.” He says, pulling a cigarette out of his suit pocket and lighting it up. “I have a very wealthy client coming in late tonight to get fitted for a new suit. He’s the top paying client I have, so I’ll need some help. Can you make it around 10 pm or so?” He asks, taking a drag of his cigarette. You nod your head and smooth over your hair. 

“Yes sir I can. You can count on me.” You give him a small smile and he smiles back at you. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” He says, patting your shoulder. He takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Is this a client I have met before or do I have the pleasure of meeting another wonderful person here in New Orleans?” You ask, smiling softly at Mr. Westwood. He’s an older man, all of his hair gray and slightly thinning, but he’s still there, kicking it and making a living.

 “He’s someone you have yet to meet. Lestat Lioncourt, a Frenchman. But I’m glad to have you on board. I’ll see you at ten.” And with that, he leaves. 

You arrive at the tailor shop at 9:50, ten minutes early to meet your boss there. He’s getting his supplies ready when he notices you. 

“Ah there you are me boy.” He says, patting your shoulder in a fatherly way. “I hope you’re ready to help me with this. Mr. Lioncourt isn’t a difficult customer, but I like to make him feel at home anyway.” You help Mr. Westwood prepare for this customer, and soon enough, when the clock strikes 10 pm, in walks Mr. Lioncourt. 

To your surprise, he’s the blonde man you passed on the street yesterday. He gives you a smile and you smile back, but you don’t mention what happened earlier. 

“Ah, wonderful to see you Mr. Lioncourt.” Mr. Westwood says, shaking his hand. 

“Wonderful to see you too Mr. Westwood.” He says with a French accent lacing his words, shaking his hand back. “But you can call me Lestat.” He turns his attention towards you, something glimmering in his bright blue eyes. 

“You must be Mr. Westwood’s new assistant.” Lestat says, shaking your hand. You nod your head and smile back at him. 

“Yes I am Mr. Lioncourt. I’m Y/N L/N, I just started a couple weeks ago. I’m very happy to help him here.” Lestat smiles and looks you up and down before returning his attention to Mr. Westwood. 

“Now, as for my new suit, I was hoping for something with a lighter color pallet, and brown buttons.” He says as Mr. Westwood takes off Lestat’s suit jacket. 

Mr. Westwood hums and nods his head. You take Lestat’s suit jacket from him and carefully place it on a coat hanger. 

“Yes I think that would work nicely with the upcoming season. Something light in color but still warm enough to be functional.” Mr. Westwood says. Lestat raises up his arms and Mr. Westwood starts to take his measurements, calling them out to you as you write them down quickly. “Very well built I must say Lestat. If only all of us could have your body type.” 

‘He is quite handsome.’ You think to yourself. Lestat chuckles and lowers his arms. 

“Yes, well I am a lucky man to have the right diet for this body.” He says, his accent peaking out a bit more.

You work with Mr. Westwood for an hour and a half, showing Lestat different fabric swatches and button styles. Showing him the different popular styles of suits coming straight from fashion designers themselves, going deep into the process with him. 

“We have a lovely new swatch of a lining satin that would look wonderful on the inside of your suit. Give me just a moment to grab that.” Mr. Westwood says, leaving you and Lestat alone in the room together. 

‘He’s even more handsome now that I’ve got a better look at him.’ You think to yourself, busying yourself with writing down the preferences for Lestat. He chuckles and looks over at you. 

“I don’t believe you’re from around here.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest. You look over at him, a little surprised, but you understand he just wants to make some kind of conversation with you. 

“Oh yes I’m not from around here. I’m from up north in New England.” You explain, setting down the pen in your hand. Lestat hums and smooths his hands over his button up shirt. 

“Why move here? Very far from home aren’t you?” He asks, that accent of his still there, making your stomach feel some kind of way. 

“Oh yes it is. I didn’t have much going on for me up north and I had heard so many promising things about New Orleans that I had to come see it for myself. I guess I just got lucky.” You explain, keeping a smile on your face. 

‘Even his voice is handsome. I envy the woman he’s married to.’ You think to yourself again, looking down at his hands, noticing he’s not wearing a wedding ring. 

“Yes, well I understand wanting to leave home. I left France a while ago, but I quite enjoy it here. A great bustling nightlife, wonderful food, good people. I can see why you’d want to move here.” Lestat says, giving you a smile. 

‘You’re quite handsome yourself mon cher’ You hear his voice say in your head. Your back straightens and you look around the room. But Lestat has turned away from you, focusing his attention back on the fabric swatches for his new suit. You know you heard his voice say that, it’s not like your inner monologue or some kind of memory of his voice. Maybe it’s just the late night you’re having. There's no need to worry at all. 

Mr. Westwood soon returns and you get on with fitting Lestat for his new suit without a problem. At around 12:30 in the morning he leaves and so do you, letting Mr. Westwood close up shop for himself. You walk back home again, passing by that same restaurant, a couple of employees cleaning up after close. 

You get back to your apartment and notice a letter taped to the front of it. You take it off and open your door, stepping inside and turning on the light. It’s too late for the mailman to be here. Maybe your landlord needed something from you. Opening it up you find the familiar hand writing of your friend Mary Ann. You sigh a breath of relief and read the letter as you take off your coat.

‘Hello Y/N. I know that it’s terribly late but I wanted to stop by and schedule a time for us to speak. I was around your apartment when I noticed a man already there, knocking on your door. He looked somewhat like you, I assume he’s the brother you’ve mentioned before. 

Because of how you described your relationship with your family I’m not sure what he was doing there, but I bet it wasn’t very good. Now if you’ll meet me for dinner tomorrow at that restaurant near here, Autumn dreams I think it’s called, at around seven I’d greatly appreciate that. I do miss you dearly.

-Much love, Mary Ann’

After letting her words sink in you find your chest tightening, your heart beating faster than before. Your brother, coming here to look for you. After the words your parents exchanged with you after they caught what you were doing with your friend William, you know that it can’t be a good reason that he’s there. 

But you’re not going to let this anxiety consume you tonight, you’re going to go to bed, get some important things done tomorrow, and go have dinner with Marry Ann. So that’s what you do, you get ready for bed, and try to fall asleep. But that nagging feeling in the back of your mind won’t leave you alone about your brother and what he could have wanted with you. Or maybe it was someone else. After all, your family is all the way up in New England.

Your family isn’t rich enough to hire some kind of private investigator either. You shouldn’t worry about a thing, you shouldn’t worry at all. If something happens, you have a gun in your apartment. You’ll be safe. And with those consoling thoughts in your head, you drift off into sleep. 

The next day, around four in the afternoon you’re busy washing up the dishes you’ve piled up in your sink when you hear a knock at your door, then a voice calls out. 

“Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Y/N do I have a story to tell you!” Mary Ann shouts. You dry off your hands and let her in. She quickly walks inside, holding a small traveling case in her hand, no doubt full of things to get ready with for your dinner tonight. “So I was standing on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette, and waiting for the right time to cross the street when a man in a motor car comes up and parks in front of me.” She says, her creole accent poking through her words. 

“So he starts telling me about how this motor car is far better than any horse carriage that money can buy and he wants to take me for a ride.” She sets down her traveling case and slides off her long coat. “So I tell him to go kick rocks because I’m not interested in taking a ride with him. But he doesn’t want to take no for an answer. So as soon as I see a clearing I toss my cigarette at him and say ‘catcalling gets you nowhere!’ and I leave. He shouted something at me but I didn’t care to listen.” She walks over to you and gives you a French kiss on each cheek, you doing the same to her. 

“You’re over here early.” You say, giving her a smile. “And you did something with your hair.” She nods her head and gives you a spin, showing off her new, shorter hairdo. 

“Oh yes. I went to the salon the other day and the woman who worked with me gave me a permanent wave hairdo. Now all I have to do is wear a silk cap at night and go back to the salon every month or so for upkeep. But I tell you I look like one of those beautiful performers on stage.” She says, setting her coat down on your kitchen table. 

“You’re already beautiful as it is Mary Ann.” You compliment, taking in her hairstyle again. It really was something wonderful. You’ve seen it become more and more popular over time, but now it’s really starting to take off. 

“Did you find out anything about the man I saw at your apartment yesterday?” She asks, pulling a cigarette out of her cardigan pocket. You shake your head and walk back over to your sink. 

“Nothing. I’m sure it was some kind of door to door salesman. Trying to sell me some kind of motor car or insurance.” You say, drying off some of your dishes. 

“Well if anyone gives you any trouble I’m here to help you. Now, I’m getting ready here, I hope you don’t mind.” She says, opening up her traveling case. You shake your head and set down the plate you just dried.

“Not at all. Always happy to entertain a friend.” So as Mary Ann got ready, you did too. Both of you struggling to use your bathroom mirror. You trying to shave and her trying to apply her makeup. It’s a little hard keeping up with all these new trends for women, but Mary Ann is always happy to explain. 

“What happened to corsets?” You ask, buttoning up your shirt. 

“Girdles are more popular now. They’re like corsets but they don’t use steel. They’re new and exciting. Besides, dresses today are so loose you couldn’t see the work of a corset if you tried.” She says, tightening up her girdle and adjusting the slip dress underneath that. 

You put on your cufflinks and smile at her.

“I don’t know how I’d keep up with the world without you Mary Ann.” You say putting on your suspenders. She grabs her dress and slides it on. It’s a beautiful loose dress, ending just above her ankles. You also notice how the waist of the dress is very low, but that’s just the style nowadays. 

You two spend another 20 minutes getting ready before you put on your coats and leave for the restaurant. You two get a table outside, the night not being too cold and chat once you’re there, the sun having already set by the time you’ve gotten your food. You’re in the middle of sipping your drink when you hear a French accent cut through all the noise. 

“Monsieur L/N?” You look over to the sound and see Lestat standing next to your table with another man at his side. You smile and stand up, holding out your hand for him to shake. 

“Oh, Mr. Lioncourt. How wonderful to see you again. I’m just having dinner here with a friend.” You say, looking over at Mary Ann who’s now standing up too, holding out her hand for him to shake. 

“Oh I’m out with a friend too.” Lestat says, shaking your hand, his cold skin making the hair on your arm stand up. The man next to him holds out his hand for you to shake. 

“Louis Pointe Du Lac.” He introduces himself. You take his hand and notice how cold his skin is, just like Lestat’s. 

“Y/N L/N. I met Mr. Lioncourt recently at my job. Your suit will be ready soon.” You say looking back over at Lestat. He chuckles and nods his head. 

“You can call me Lestat Y/N, and thank you.” He says, Louis looks between you and Mary Ann in a casual manner. You’re able to get a closer look at the two of them now. 

‘They really are a handsome pair. If only.’ You think to yourself. Lestat and Louis give each other a look for a moment. 

“Are you French, Mr. Lioncourt?” Mary Ann asks, moving a hand to fix one of her earrings. He chuckles again and nods his head. 

“Yes I am. J'espère que tu ne sors pas avec lui. Parce que nous le voulons pour nous.” He says, clearly showing off his knowledge in front of you two. 

“S'il vous plaît soyez prudent. Vous savez que beaucoup de gens ici parlent français.” Louis says in French back at Lestat. You and Mary Ann look at each other, both enjoying the sight. 

“Notre ami ici ne parle pas français, je vous l'assure.” Lestat says back, patting Louis on the shoulder. 

“Would you two like to come over to our home later in the week. We always enjoy entertaining guests.” Louis says, paying careful attention to you. 

‘I need to tell her.’ You think to yourself. ‘Maybe I can get lucky’. Lestat smiles a little wider. 

“We’d love to. How about tomorrow evening, that works for you, right Y/N?” Mary Ann asks, looking over at you. You look back at her and nod your head. 

“Yes, tomorrow night is great.” 

“Then tomorrow night it is.” Lestat says, something sparkling in his eyes. 

‘You will enjoy yourself. I assure you.’ You hear Lestat’s voice say in your head. You smile despite your confusion, just another case of your mind playing tricks on you. 

[fandoms--fluff]

Hi?? Soo I have an idea

How about an one where reader gets kidnapped and is like in the brink of death but, Hope comes to the rescue just in time and gives R her blood in the last second (but maybe everyone thinks that reader is already dead because we need the angst). Meanwhile R gets to meet Klaus, Hayley and Elijah and have a good time with them but then, R heard Hope's voice calling out to her to come back and that she loves her but before leaving R gets Klaus and Hayley approval.

When R wakes up she's all happy and shit to get her in-laws approval ((Hope probably will think how dork she is.

-K

Jokes On You, Death

Flufftober, October 20th

Female vampire reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: mentions of drinking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, no, no, come on!" Hope kneels by your body laying on the ground. She killed the group of vampires that kidnapped you just a moment ago. She had tried giving you blood just before your eyes closed, but you didn't wake.

"Please, wake up! Y/n, come on, don't leave me! Okay?!" Hope exclaims, trying to do CPR on you. She has tears streaming down her face.

You open your eyes, looking around your surroundings. Your eyebrows furrow as you stand up. "What the..." You whisper to yourself.

You start walking around the empty mystic falls, it looks gloomy and dark. "Is this a damn prison world or something?" You ask yourself. You walk into the mystic grill.

"Okay, not a prison world," You tell yourself again. There are three people sitting at the counter, one woman and two men. They turn towards you, their eyebrows all raised, seeing a teenage girl standing in front of them.

"Um, Hi?" you do a tiny hand wave before going into the backroom. You remember hearing about the storage room back there having an entrance to the underground tunnels, and this is a good time to explore, you think.

You walk back out a minute later. "Okay, no tunnel in weird different universe" you talk to yourself again, going behind the counter.

As you pour a drink of whisky, they're still all staring at you. You look up at them, an eyebrow raised. "What?" you look at them for a second before recognition lights up in your eyes.

"Oh, you're Hope's parents and uncle. She has a picture of you guys with her as a baby on her nightstand" You put it together before downing your drink.

"You know Hope?" Hayley asks, eyes lit up. "Yep," You answer, pouring more into your glass.

"How do you know her" Klaus' protectiveness is surfacing. "Don't have to get all Papa bear on me, I know her from school. Well her school, I don't actually go to classes, I just annoy Ric while waiting for her to get back and ya know that stuff" You say. They all stare at you blankly. "She's my girlfriend. We're dating." You deadpan.

"You're dating?" Elijah's the one to break the silence. "Yep, and don't overthink it, people don't hang you anymore for being gay. If they did, I'd be way dead by now" You finished your drink.

"You guys are- were happy?" Hayley swallows a lump in her throat. "Yeah, of course we are. What do you mean by 'were'?" Your eyebrows furrow, pointing your finger in question.

"Well, sweetie, uh, you're on the other side" Hayley softly tells you.

"Those jackasses killed me? Damn it" you groan before pausing. "Hope's still there, fuck" you say and walk out of the grill. You make your way to the moldy, old, blood-covered dungeon. The three of them follow you, worried. They surprisingly have to work pretty hard to keep up with how fast you're going to get there.

Some way you can now apparently see Hope kneeling next to your body, crying. "Shit" You whisper. You realize all the vampires are dead, so that's a good thing.

"She's going to be okay, don't worry" Hope steps up to you, hand gently placed on your shoulder. "I think she really loves you," Hayley tells you. You look up at her, shock taking over your face.

Before you can reply, you start having a tingle run through your body. "What's going on?" Klaus asks, seeing your body shaking and your confused face. "I don't know, feel's as if my body is being pulled through something, oh my god" Your head snaps to the scene of Hope and see your fingers from your body moving exactly how you're moving them right now.

"Make sure she's happy," Klaus tells you, a small smile playing on his face. You nod, and the next second your body is pulled back into the living plane into your other actual body.

You gasp for air, sitting up. Hope wraps her arms around your body and pulls you to her chest. "Oh my god, I thought you were dead" Hope's voice wavers. You gently pull away and pull her back into your arms instead.

She softly shakes and nuzzles her face into the nape of your neck. "Technically I kinda was, but now I'm back. And I love you so so much" You play with her hair. "I love you too" Hope whispers.

"Why don't we get out of here and when we get back to your room, boy do I have a story for you" You stand up with her and link your arms. "Sounds good" Hope smiles and wipes her tears away.

"You're way too smiley. Should I be worried?" Hope raises an eyebrow. "Nah, I think you're good" You guys walk out the door, the sun starting to set.

[early20sfailingplenty]

A while ago, you wrote Lester with a vampire s/o, and I was wondering if I can request something where he (and bros) find out she’s a siren? Maybe like, when she’s in her human form, she’s like, a regular girl, but when she’s in her siren form (which happens when she becomes wet), she has the typical abilities of a siren?

Lester would think it's the coolest thing ever! He's the kind of guy who finds out you can draw and unthinkingly asks if you can draw him! He means it with genuine encouragement, and it's only after you wince and seem to withdraw a little from him that he realises that perhaps he's being a little bit pressuring towards you and your skills.

Similarly, when he finds out that you transform into a siren when your skin becomes wet, Lester immediately wants to see!

"C'mon, darlin', c'n y'show me?" He's grinning, having only ever heard of sirens on TV and from those books which Bo used to read to him when the three brothers huddled up into one person's bed to comfort one another when their parents were fighting.

If you indulge him and transform, he wants to see you show off your skills - what can you do? It's very genuine, very supportive, with Lester whooping and hollering even if all you did was flick your tail as you come up for air - whether you need it or not, the mythology surrounding sirens can be contrary at times. If you don't, Lester ain't too bothered - he'll see it sooner or later. Sooner, he hopes, he's excited!He didn't know you could do this and he wants to see!!! He knows how to be patient and in the end, time tells all.

If it's possible, Lester falls even more in love with you, and in the back of his mind he's working out ways to use this to his advantage - sirens lure sailors, he lures canvases to Ambrose... yeah, this could be fun...

Bo scoffs when you tell him, he doesn't believe you, no matter how well you set up telling him, or even if he finds out because you transform.

You could be in the water in front of him, swishing your tail emphatically, and he would still bend down, squinting in concentration, trying to see how you're doing it. The call of the siren is irresistible, however, and the sweet haunting tones you emit from deep inside your throat would finally be what would convince him - he'd be powerless to resist even if he wanted to.

"You're real pretty, darlin', ain't never seen nothin' like it 'fore."

You should hope not, you silently bristle, but Bo's reverent gaze and calculative smirk as he mentally adjusts his killing routine to include you... it sends your tail curling - you might be the siren, but Bo is the honey trap, and you're both stuck.

Vincent, ironically, is the one least surprised. He always thought, in the privacy of his mind, that you were like a siren - how else had he been so immediately drawn to you, falling in love with you before he had even known your name? He had often sculpted sirens while thinking of you, you had an ethereal air about you. He had thought it an unexplainable facet of your personality - clearly, it wasn't.

He would sometimes ask you to sing to him; when his thoughts are too loud or he's angry or he just needs something to shut his mind down for a little bit. Your voice instantly sweeps him out to sea, like sailors in times gone by, and all Vincent can do is stand there and take it all in. You can lull him to sleep - he trusts you to protect him, though your true form is known the world over for causing the death of thousands.

How beautiful, then, that a man who has killed tens of people feels safe in the presence of one who has likely done the same. Truly, a match made in hell.

[fashionteahouse]

Thanks for writing my Leah request I loved it sm <3

Could I perchance get another fem shifter r x Leah who shifted before her and had imprinted but Leah was with Sam (this was before their breakup) so she only wanted r as a friend. Maybe r has to go away for a bit for some reason and comes back to Sam being with Emily and Leah being a shifter. She’s infuriated at the news that Sam had taken Leah for granted (cause r had wanted more with Leah but was ultimately left to settle for friendship) and left her so easily obviously, and picks a fight. First it’s arguing then it’s shoving and then they shift and fight it out. Maybe it ends with them getting their anger out and settling down, maybe after Leah intervenes?

hey no problem i’m super duper glad you liked it ! hope you enjoy :)

i wouldn’t ask you - leah x reader

Eyes slowly blinked at each other.

A phenomenon that either of you was able to understand, happened.

Leah heard you out. She heard what imprinting was. She accepted.

Friends.

You nod as you sucked in a small breath, “Okay. We can be friends. No problem.”

You had no choice but be supportive. You wanted her happy. It killed you inside however, to watch as Sam held her hand, leaning down to kiss her, and holding her.

That was all that you wanted to do. You wanted to know what made him better than you. You wanted to be the one to make her feel fluttery and sappy.

You wanted to be the cause of her happiness.

After hearing and receiving a phone call that contained a panicked and sobbing voice, Leah told you that Sam went missing.

“I’ll look for him for you, Leah. No matter how long it takes.”

“Thank you. You’re a really good friend.” she says with hope.

Your stomach did backflips.

You made it a mission to find him. You search beyond La Push. You felt that if he went missing, he wouldn’t be near the area.

You saw new landscapes, you discovered new routes, your wolf felt free as you used this search mission to explore.

In a way, deep down, you hoped that you couldn’t find Sam. But, you wanted Leah to be happy.

A few stray vampires that you killed, delayed your return to home. You didn’t care, you felt it was good to gain the combat experience.

Coming back, you saw La Push in a whole new light.

You froze as you were on your way to Old Quil’s home. After showering and dressing, you wanted to gush to him and the elders about your journey. You also wanted to tell them that you had no luck in finding Sam, but you found that you did indeed find him.

Sam looked different as he got out of a car. A woman, a different woman was dropping him off.

He leaned over and placed his lips on her lips. She smiled at him as he tells her, “I will be home for dinner.”

Your fists bawl up tight. Your teeth clenched. You stomp towards him.

“Moved on?” you ask.

His face was confused but then the familiar face dawned on him, “Oh. Hey Y/N.”

Your glare made him a bit uncomfortable.

“So, how have you been? Heard you went away for a while.”

“Yeah. To look for you. I now know where you disappeared off to.” you spat.

He nervously chuckles with hands of defense up, “No. That’s not why I went missing. I shifted.”

“Oh, yeah?” you ask and take steps closer. Your intense glare was thrown at him.

“I shifted…I imprinted.”

An angry huff breathes out of you.

“On her?!” you ask nastily, drenching with disgust.

“Hey. Watch it.”

“Oh, yeah. The fuck are you going to do about it? Her fucking cousin of all people. You’re scum.”

Chest to chest, both wolves were itching to be released.

If you both were cartoon characters, steam would be coming out of the set of ears.

“I love Leah. It hurt me to be with Emily.”

“Fuck you and fuck her.” you say with a hard shove that makes him stumble back.

With a snarl, his black wolf rips out of his clothes, he lunged towards you, you don’t panic. You instead fluidly dodge as you shifted into your own wolf.

Snarls were at each other and you attack his throat, making his back meet the tree trunk.

You both tumble and rumble in the grass, grass flies up in the air as the two beasts battle it out.

Roars of anger is heard.

“Y/N, stop!” You hear in your head. You freeze a little and Sam’s large paw scratches you right on the face. You see a beautiful wolf throw him off of you. Sam lands with a thud and lays on his side with a whine as he looked at the wolf. She growled deeply at him to make him not come towards you.

The voice was familiar. You watch as the wolf carefully crept towards you, sniffing at you.

“Y/N, it’s me.”

“Leah?” you answer back.

“Yes.”

“Shift back. We can talk.”

Leah watched as your memories flood of the good times traveled through your mind. You were suddenly in your human form. Her beautiful face was your view.

It felt like a magical moment as you experienced imprinting once again. This time, you felt that Leah felt it too.

Eyes blinked once again.

You pulled up the shorts that she gave you in her home.

“Why were you fighting Sam?”

You groan at his name, “Because….”

She closed her dresser and turns to you, “Because what?”

“He was kissing another woman. He just moved on…Just like that. What about the relationship that you two had?”

She looks down with a slight nod of understanding.

“It’s alright, Y/N.”

You rise up, “It’s not alright. He went missing and I was looking for him. I didn’t know all I had to do was go to Emily’s house.”

“He really did go missing, it was because he shifted. He imprinted….After he came home….He did try to fight it…But…” she then sits down on her bed.

“But it’s not enough. He just left you, Leah. He left you while he’s in another woman’s face.” you say.

“I wouldn’t ask you to fight him, Y/N. He’s not worth it.”

“I’ll fight him over and over if I have to. Was he there when you shifted?”

She shakes her head.

You kneel and look as her as you cup her cheeks, “If I was here, instead of looking for him, I would’ve took care of you.”

She gives you a look, a look that lets you know that she believes you, “I know, Y/N. I know. You’re here now.”

You both embrace.

Without saying anything, you both let each other know how much you missed each other. You didn’t expect the kiss on the cheek that you receive from her. You place your forehead on hers.

[ghost-bxrd]

I earlier suggested a Supernatural Batfam AU where Tim is a Tiyanak...

Just realised how much angst possibility is there with that if Jason's death and Red Hood return happens in that AU.

The thing is, Tiyanaks are vampiric ghost babies of Phillipine legends. The souls of unbaptized - in modern setting, neglected - children. In the horror legends, Tiyanaks lure people to them by posing as a helpless infant, and then drain the life from anyone who stops to help.

Now, Tim isn't like that, he does feed on affection (and was starving before the Waynes took him in), but he doesn't kill or even seriously harm anyone intentionally.

When Jason comes back, he's initially furious about Bruce and Dick replacing him with a new kid.

Then he realises the new kid is a tiyanak.

Jason, who knows only the horror legend version - or Talia might have primed him with that - is terrified.

His family have been placed in thrall by a tiyanak! The creature took advantage of their grief! He has to save them!

Putting a whole new spin on the Titans Tower attack...

It’s scary to think about a Red Hood who’s both pissed at his Replacement, and also sure that said Replacement is keeping his (ex)family under thrall.

I can totally see Jason cling to the idea that maybe they didn’t deliberately replace him. That they had no choice with a supernatural creature around the exploit them.

In his mind, everything could be solved if he just got rid of the kid, because his family would even thank him, right?

(He’s not prepared for a little kid with a bo staff, joy transforming into terror, backing away from him with hunched shoulders and bruises on his face…. wtf is he doing, wtf is he doing…)

[whumperstorm]

Supressing Fire - Part 3.5

Content: vampire whumper, defiant whumpee, mild violence, begging, crying

Two scenes from Keegan's captivity that aren't quite long enough their own chapters. Featuring Keegan trying to rebel however she can, and Kane earning his "Not As Much of a Jerk as You Could Have Been" Award.

Part 1/Previous/Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One evening, as Kane feeds, Keegan's eyes wander over his shoulder. She just barely suppresses a gasp when she sees it. Her little art project, taped to her punching bag and crumpled from numerous bouts of abuse by Keegan's fists. It was an excellent improvement to her self care routine, in her opinion. After Kane's generous donation of fresh bruises after she “sighed disrespectfully" last week. But one that should not have been left out after use.

Keegan rips her gaze away from it and stares a hole into the floor instead. Maybe he won't see it?

Of course he sees it.

"What is that?" he demands, stalking toward it and ripping the paper off--a crude portrait of what looks to be him. Scribbled in crayons.

"Um-" She says dumbly. "You weren't supposed to see that."

"It's not supposed to fucking be in my house!" Kane tears the paper in two, crumpling it and tossing it to the floor. "I thought this punching bag was supposed to make you better behaved, not a sneaky, disobedient little brat. Maybe I should take it away after all, if it's doing you no good!"

The best way Keegan knows to get out of this mess is to apologize. To show respect and beg Kane for forgiveness so he doesn't get angrier. That is not what she does.

"Oh come on, It's just a drawing!" She huffs. "I've been good haven't I? This wouldn't have bothered you at all if you hadn't seen it!"

Kane storms over and backhands her across the face.

"I will not tolerate disrespect!" he screams. "This is not what being good looks like! You will learn your place!"

The strike hurts. Keegan's head snaps to the side and she lets out a shout of pain, but she doesn’t back down. "My God, grow a fucking spine!!" She spits, standing up to tower over him. "I've been your perfect little pet for months! Since I can't knock your lights out, I used what I got. At least this Kane was nicer to look at!"

Kane shoves her, sending her toppling to the ground, then lands a hard kick in her side.

"You've improved. I'd hardly call you perfect," he spits. "This is exactly the problem with you. Nothing works. You know what? Say goodbye to the punching bag. Clearly, this isn't working." He goes to take it down.

For some reason, that sends a jolt of panic through Keegan's chest. More so than the abuse. She fights to get air back into her lungs and reaches out towards Kane.

"W-wait!"

It's not really about the bag. She has other amenities. But they're all generic. The bag is the only thing that's hers. A piece of her personality to light up her dreadful little prison.

She can't bear the thought of losing what little she has.

Keegan pulls herself up to kneel respectfully. "Don't take it, I-I'm sorry." It may not be enough now. Not after her outburst.

It's fake. So obviously fake, how she only deigns to respect Kane when she has something to lose. It only fans the fire inside him further. He needs to break her foolish pride.

He glares down at her. "Beg."

Keegan glares a hole into the floor. She hates him. She hates him with every cell in her body. But punching bag or not, she can't back out now. Any more rebellion and she'll be black and blue for days.

She hangs her head, face burning in shame. "Please... sir. I'm sorry. Please give me another chance... No more disrespect, whether you're present or not."

"Hmph. I'll believe it when I see it. Watch it, human. I'm the one in control here."

And with that, Kane leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Keegan lets out a breath when he leaves. Never has she felt more helpless and tiny. She can’t even exist in peace without the threat of Kane’s interference. Everything is a fight in this place. A fight she's bound to lose each and every time.

But, well... she glances up. At least she still has the punching bag.

She groans, flopping miserably back down into bed.

------

Things continue as normal from there. Kane still needs to violently discipline his human on a regular basis, but the frequency has gone down a bit. He wonders if it's really the punching bag, or just a coincidence. The fact that it seems to be making her behave better is the only reason he doesn't go through with taking it away.

Many months pass and they fall into a routine. Some days are bad, with a defiant human he needs to correct, and some days are good, with the human coming out and playing chess or watching movies with him, countering his debilitating loneliness. 

One such good day, while they're watching a movie, the protagonist goes to celebrate his birthday. Kane usually skips this part, hating the sour reminder, but he doesn't want to raise questions from the human. He lets it play without comment.

In all honesty, Keegan hasn't thought about her birthday at all. She's had too much on her mind and no one around to remind her that it's coming up. But the movie scene has her realizing what month they're in. Her birthday is in three days. She’s hit with a wave of depressed bitterness. 

It was nowhere near her birthday when she was kidnapped, so it's yet another reminder of how long she's been here. Not only that, but she's turning twenty-one. That's a pretty big milestone and she gets to what, sit in an empty room and sing happy birthday to herself? She won't even get a hug from her sister. She knows her hunting guild enjoys throwing surprise parties. She wonders if they'd have planned one for her. 

Her thoughts spiral, and to her horror, she starts to cry. She hardly ever cries. She hates crying in front of others, and here she is sobbing in front of Kane of all people. She tries to hold it back, silent tears falling down her cheeks. She can't even excuse herself. She has to ask to do anything around here and he'll obviously notice her tears if she asks to leave. She sits there rigidly, until eventually a tiny, involuntary sob escapes.

Kane is so wrapped up in his own birthday-adjacent pity party that he doesn't notice the human crying until he hears her sob. He turns to her, caught off-guard. "What's wrong?" he asks. He hasn't been disciplining her, so he's not sure why she's upset.

Keegan is mortified. She hastily scrubs at her face to wipe away the tears, like that'll somehow make it less obvious. God he's actually asking what's wrong? Like he'd care about a human's birthday of all things. He'd probably get mad that she's even making a fuss about it. She can already hear his cruel comment. ‘You’re not a person. You’re food. You don’t have a birthday.’ 

"It’s- it’s fine." She dismisses. "Can I go back to my room?"

Kane turns off the movie. Something isn't right here. The human's never acted like this before.

"Tell me what's wrong and then you can go," he compromises. Maybe he's feeling soft because of the feelings thinking about his birthday dredged up, or maybe it's the disappointment at a nice night spent not on his lonesome being cut short. "You won't be in trouble."

Keegan puts her head in her hands for a moment, sighing. Even her own sadness doesn't belong to her. But, at least he said she won't be in trouble, and Kane has yet to lie to her. "It's not important. I just... realized my birthday is in three days." Her voice grows quieter as she speaks, mumbling by the end and looking away as fresh tears bubble up. "Can I go now?" She wants nothing more than to get away from this humiliating situation.

For the first time, Kane feels some sort of connection with his human, some sort of guilt for his actions. Here she is, unable to celebrate her birthday- because of him.

"You may go," he concedes, trying to process the unfamiliar emotions.

Keegan wastes no time, scurrying back to her room. She spends a while in the bathroom, calming down and washing her face. She doesn't even feel like using the punching bag, instead lying in bed wallowing in self pity the rest of the night. The conversation isn't brought back up in the following days, so Keegan hopes that's the end of it. The evening of her birthday however, she wakes up in an awful mood.

Kane, for the life of him, decides to do research. It's embarrassing, going to the library and asking for books on human celebrations, but he does it anyway. Most of what he finds is anthropological research on human religious practices, but he does eventually find something on birthdays. Human birthday celebrations seem to be similar to vampire ones in many ways, except for the cake. The cake is apparently a very big part of it, a large, sweet human food. Other than that, the customs of parties and presents are similar. 

On the night of Keegan's birthday, Kane comes in and feeds from her as normal. Just because it's her birthday doesn't mean he doesn't need to eat. But after that... "I have something for you. Come on out." He turns to exit the human quarters, gesturing for her to follow him out.

Keegan endures the bite. Same bullshit as always. When Kane invites her out, she follows, curiously. She'd rather stay holed up in her room today, but Kane doesn't usually get her things she hasn’t asked for.

Waiting on the mug table is a large, elaborate birthday cake, the kind that must have cost hundreds of dollars. Next to it is a medium-sized gift wrapped in shiny paper.

"Happy birthday," Kane says awkwardly.

Keegan stares in utter shock. "You- what?" She looks at Kane, then back at the table. Is he serious? It can't be a prank. She can tell from here that the cake is real. But this is a man who has stolen her life away, and her blood, and abused her countless times over the past months. And who's now celebrating her birthday?

"...Why?" She asks quietly.

Kane glances briefly at her, then realizes he's far too embarrassed of his own sincerity to make eye contact, and stares forward at the table instead. "It's your birthday. It deserves to be celebrated."

"oh..." Keegan is tearing up again, but controls it better this time. It feels like a piece of her humanity has returned. She might be nothing but food here, and constantly referred to as "human" instead of by name, but she's still deserving of a birthday? That's a better gift than anything that could be in that box. She still doesn't understand why he cares, he’s the one who put her in this situation after all, but it’s something.

“Thank you…” She steps hesitantly towards it, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when he doesn't stop her she kneels down next to the table. "Can I open it?" She asks, reaching for the gift.

"You're welcome. Go ahead," Kane encourages. This is weird. Vampires aren't supposed to celebrate their humans' birthdays. She's food. But... he can't deny her this. He just can't.

When Keegan opens the gift, she finds some very fancy hard cider inside.

"I wasn't sure... um. This was one thing I knew you liked that you didn't already have," Kane explains. "Just for your birthday. No refills."

She's not sure why, maybe the way he awkwardly explains himself, or how ridiculous the whole situation is, but it has Keegan bursting out into laughter.

She doesn't want Kane to think she's mocking him so she quickly sputters out, "This is great, thanks." She takes a breath to get control over herself then adds, "You gonna be able to survive my nasty alcohol blood?"

"I'll manage," Kane says, unoffended. In his eyes, she's only insulting herself.

The rest of the night is a peaceful one, spent doing whatever activities the human wants. Though Kane grimaces at the taste of her blood on occasion as she makes her way through the cider in the coming weeks, he makes no comment on it. It was her birthday gift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @whumpsday @not-a-space-alien @anomalys-taxonomy @what-if-i-just-did @dragonqueenslayer6 @jumpywhumpywriter @writereleaserepeat

[inklore]

forbidden cravings

premise: stay in your room; that's all you had to do. a simple demand that you planned on following until something goes bump in the night and you're trapped between two monsters.

pairing: vampire!din djarin x reader x vampire!bo-katan kryze

word count: 5k

contents: blood and biting obviously, oral, threats, murder mention, reader is a little clueless, power imbalance, bo is kinda evil but we love her for it, brief mention of piv.

note: this took me way too long to write and by the end of it i was very tired so hopefully someone out there enjoys this lmao. i could possibly see myself writing more within this little world, maybe.

haunted hoedown day five.

You had never noticed how creaky the house was until tonight. Until you were stuck in a dark, dampened room. Your only light coming from the candle at your bedside, the moon, and the flashes of lightening through the windows. The deep red drapes that match the ones that hang around the four poster bed in the middle of the room, that look ancient and eerie, set your already on edge nerves into a frenzy of fight of flight.

You had dusted this room many times. Have been past the threshold and seen it painted in the daylight. 

But never at night. 

You were prohibited from being here past nightfall. 

The master of the house—your boss—had made it clear upon your first interview a year ago that you’d only be needed in the daytime. That staying after nightfall was not something he needed you around for, and it would be of best interest to the house if you departed once the sun set. 

It’s a rule you questioned little. A rule you were fine and happy to obey. 

It wasn’t your job to question it. It wasn’t your place. 

You were the housekeeper, nothing else. Nothing less. Nothing more. 

And you’d never think of going against the lord of the manor, Din Djarin. 

The infamous inventor. 

The mysterious scholar.

The man with whom you’ve slowly bloomed a friendship with while you’ve worked here. The two of you have spent hours in his library with your fingertips, running along old books, relics he’s come across in his travels, and blue prints for inventions he one day wishes to create. 

The pair of you bonding over the love of old words and worlds you wish you could have been a part of. 

Working for him and being in his home—the dark gray spiraling staircases, the arched doorways, the black and red wallpaper that look hundreds of years old and yet look like they’d just been done yesterday—was a joy. 

A better job than working at the mill or getting by on your looks alone to put food on the table. 

You lucked out. Was honored to get the position and even more honored to befriend the destinguishinly handsome Lord Djarin. 

His staff soon became like a second family to you. A home away from home—a much more beautiful and sprawling home than your own, but a home in all senses of the word. 

Not even the curfew could dampen your love or the job. 

The only thorn in your side, the only downfall—negativity—to working for the Lord was his companion, his wife, Lady Kryze. 

While most days, the two of you would rarely cross paths. Her off on travel, or in the west wing of the house that you seldom find yourself in. 

But when appearance’s were known, brief or not, she always had a look of haughtiness about her. Her red hair laying perfectly on her shoulders, and her dresses always form fitting and beautifully cascading to the floor. The neck line plunged lower than what’s usually considered proper—that always made your cheeks heat when you found yourself rudely staring, a smirk on her lips that quickly got washed away with a scornful arch of her brows. 

She had never been rude to you. Had never demanded of you or treated you unkindly the way one would think when you looked at her intimidatingly beautiful face. The power you know she held with just a look, a twitch of a smile, or the flick of her fingers. 

She was the opposite of Lord Djarin. 

The two seeming an odd match for two people destined to be together. 

Your schoolgirl crush on the Lord of the Manor definitely having little to do with your opinion on the fact. 

It had been Lady Kryze who had suggested you stay. Almost demanding it, with the weather outside being too dangerous to travel. The winds whistling through the old bones of the house. The rain coming down like heavy hail. The thunder that you could feel deep in your bones each time it rumbled. 

Lord Djarin had protested on the matter. Said you could wait out the storm but insisted you leave after. 

“Don’t be rude, honey.” Lady Kryze had said. The sentiment, honey, came off more as an insult than as something sweet and tender. The look on the Lord’s face one of strain and frustration. A warning flashed in his eyes before he gave you a tight lipped smile and nodded in agreement. 

And now here you are. Dressed in a nightgown that Lady Kryze had supplied you with. The white fabric feeling almost like satin against your chilled skin, the lack of heat coming from the radiator on the other side of the room making you frown as your breasts made it more than clear how your body was reacting to the draft in the room—to the cold storm outside. 

The loud thump that startles you from outside of your door tears your gaze from the window and elevates your unease when you put your ear to the dark wood and hear nothing but the old house talking in the way one does in storms or settling.

Lord Djarin had ordered you to stay in your room. To lock the door from the inside and try to get some rest. Assuring you that all was alright, the drafts liked to open the doors at night. 

Listening to the plea in his voice that he tried to hide with his endearing smile was enough to convince you not to try it. To listen to his words. To do what had been asked of you without question once again. 

But the thump comes again. This time, sounding closer. Perhaps a glass broke somewhere in the hall. 

Your teeth chew at your bottom lip in worry. 

What if the Lord or Lady needed help? What if they had fallen? The lack of electricity in the house was more than a factor, a reason, for something that could cause a fall. Candlelight only shows so much in these dark halls. 

And while there had been no cry for help. No croak, groan, or indication that someone needs help; you can’t help the way your heart escalates or why you ignore the nerves, making your hand shake as you unlock the door, twist the cold handle, and open it a sliver. 

Your eyes search the vast darkness of the hall within the tiny space you’ve given yourself. The lit candles in the holders on the wall do little to aid in you seeing anything other than small glows of orange light past the railing that lines the hall. 

The words of the Lord push into the back of your mind as you open the door more and poke your head out into the dark space. The strings of lightening outside paint the empty hall in blue light. Streaking against the dark wallpaper hauntingly. 

“Lord Djarin?” Your voice is faint compared to the booming thunder outside. A gulp of air fills your lungs when you get enough bravery to step fully out of your room and speak a little louder, “Lady Kryze?” 

The silence only pushes you forward. 

Has your bare feet cold and weary against the long rug on the hardwood floor. The floorboards creak with each step that you take.

The portraits of unknown people by unknown painters look more intimidating and scary the longer you venture through the hall. The candles shadow their faces in scowls that aren’t normally there in the daylight. 

Your fingers dig into the side of your nightgown, bunching up the fabric as your heart hammers against your ribs. 

Maybe you should go back to your room. Maybe it was nothing. The rooms with open doors were dark and abandoned. The staircases are bare, and the entryway below, when you look over the rail, is completely encased in darkness.

Maybe it had come from the west wing of the house. Maybe it was a branch outside. Your mind isn’t sure. Isn’t thinking about anything other than getting back to your room, engulfing yourself in the bedspread, and trying to ignore every creepy sound that the storm outside aids in the houses off putting nature.

Being here at night was, in fact, something your nerves could not handle, it seemed. 

You sigh. Come to a stop at the last door along the hallway. Your bottom lip sore from your worrying. Whatever the thump was, it’s not something as drastic as your mind had probably come up with, and unless you feel like venturing down the stairs and through the rest of the house, it wasn’t your concern—and the prospect made you shiver knowing some parts of the house didn’t have candles lining the walls. 

But when you turn to head back to your room, your body crashes into another, and the scream you let out rings along with a crack of thunder, filtering the hallway into a horrific sound of chaos and fear. 

“You were told to stay in your room.” 

“Oh my—" your hand flies to your chest. The beat of your heart feels as if it might beat it’s way out of the cavern of your ribs. Your lungs finally fill with the air that had been whooshed out of you when you had collided with the other person once you realized who it was. “Lady Kryze.” 

“I was told you listen to directions well,” her smile is pressed and sure. Humorous in the way her eyes move along your appearance. The relief you felt from it being her soon dying when you remember how see through your nightgown is. Your arms cross over your bare chest. “How misguided.” 

“I-I was just,” you swallow. Try to get your breathing back to normal. Try to stop the pounding in your ears matching up with the rain outside—with the booms of thunder. “I heard a noise.” You manage to get out. The amused raise of her brow makes your body heat up in something akin to embarrassment or a child running to their mother at night because they are scared. 

Lady Kryze hums, “many things go bump in the night around here. It’s an old house.”

“Of course,” you nod. “Yes.” You laugh nervously, breathy, and unsure. Trying to ease the tension that’s growing between the two of you. Worried you might be jobless come morning. “I apologize. I was just worried that you or Lord Djarin may have been hurt.”

“You’re a doctor? Here I thought you were a maid.” Her smile is mocking, unkind. But that’s when you finally take her fully in. With the flashes of lightening through the window at the end of the hall, giving light to the shadows that dance along her face in the candlelight.

She looks…different. 

There's a deep red tint to her lips that’s not usually there. You can’t recall the last time you saw her wear lipstick, let alone that shade. Her hair is darker and more unruly at the bottom than usual. Than the sleek look of perfection it’s always at. Her clothes—her dress—stained a deep red and ripped at the top, standing her paler than normal skin out. 

Your eyes look down to her nails; they’re longer. Stained the same shade as her lips and her dress. 

Somethings not right.

And when your gaze meets hers again, you can see how much darker her eyes look than what you’re used to seeing below that scowl. Bigger. Almost as if her pupils had doubled in size.

Your lack of subtlety seems to give you away when you quickly try to sidestep her and head for your room. 

“Now that I know you’re both fine, I’ll just go back to my room now.” You say softly, give her a forced smile as you try to keep your composure and act as normal as you would if you weren’t scared out of your skin. 

Lady Kryze laughs under her breath. Let’s you step past her and walk one, two, or five steps before there’s a grip at the back of your elbow and your back is being slammed into the wall. The gasp of your lungs deflates from the pressure puffing out against her face with how close she is. 

“Lady Kr-”

“Bo.” She corrects, her eyes wandering down your face, pausing at your lips and the junction where your jaw meets your neck. Swallowing hard before her gaze cascades to your chest, “I always hated the pleasantries Din demanded we go by to fit in with you…humans.” 

“You humans?” You give her a quizicall look, too much going on in your nervous system to comprehend her words. To make sense of them when the fear of the emotion in her eyes reads hunger. 

And when she laughs again, her smile more genuine than any you’ve seen spread across her perfectly proportioned lips before; you see it. See them.

The pointed teeth that have replaced her normal ones. 

The way they gleam off of the orange glow of the candles. The way they make you swallow. Make your chest hurt from the bruising your heart is doing to your ribs from beating so fast. 

What is she?

“I thought you were smart? With the way Din talks about you, I imagined you would have figured it out by now. Especially with how close the two of you have been getting.” The accusation makes your heart stop. A cold fear pricking at your insides that makes your skin feel clammy. 

The raising of her brow makes the feeling worse as you shake your head. Open your mouth to protest on the matter, to not encourage the accusation that there might be something going on with Lord Djarin and you, her husband. 

“Don’t worry,” she smirks. Leans in closer so her lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear as she murmurs, “I like to share.” Your body trembles when her hand leaves your shoulder and her fingers run along the side of your breast. Her pointer skating along your erect nipple, making you gasp softly. “We both do.” 

“Lady Kryze–I,” there’s words meant to come out. Words meant to put an end to whatever this standoff, or showdown, is. You’re lost, you’re captivated, and you’re frightened. But her cheeks and lips brush against yours as she moves herself back so she can look at you; her dark eyes make every syllable on your tongue lay thick and weighted down like sludge. 

There’s a silence that has enough tension to make your body buzz and your brain catch up to put the puzzle pieces together with the information that has always been laid out for you. Things you took as old family traditions you didn’t care to understand. 

The presistant curfew, the eerie darkness that hung over the manor once the sun started to set. The mysterious cases of maids and butlers going missing without a trace. The town just beyond your own’s population dwindling down. Neighbors and friends gone. 

Lady Kryze’s dark eyes, her teeth. 

“You’re the cause of all the disappearances.” It’s not a question because you already know the answer. The slow spread of her lips only solidified the gathered information in your head to fit neatly in a box of truths. “And,” you swallow, hate how your heart aches at the very thought. “Lord Djarin..he–”

“Is much more discrete than I.” She seems to find a silent annoyance in the statement. In the way your body lets out a shaky breath as if you’re relieved. It makes her eye twitch before she’s leaning in again, her lips closer to yours now. Her breath smells of metal. “He doesn’t like to indulge in the bounty we’ve been given. Says it’s not right to eat thy neighbor.” Her tongue runs across her bottom lip, one of her sharp teeth catching on the skin. “I say, why waste such delicious gifts? And delicious they are, especially the ones who beg. The ones who let me play with my food before I eat it.” 

Her laugh makes your body shiver. A reaction she seems to like too much, as her lips skim across yours. The metallic scent of her tongue inhaled by your shaky breaths and swallowed down, leaving your throat dry and your tongue itching to reach out for the source. 

The source of it’s weight, the source of the ache in your jaw with the need to drink. A thirst for what you’re sure is water and not the nourishment that’s so clearly painted Lady Kryze’s lips red and her tongue. Your body willing to use any source of fluid to aid you. 

Not because the metallic linger of her breath sits on your tastebuds like an open invitation. Not because her fingers are still at the side of your breast, your peaked nipple aching to be brushed over by her again. 

“Will you let me play with you?” Her nose brushes yours as her head turns, and her lips just catch the corner of your mouth, a gasp leaving your lips as they move across your cheek and her teeth clip on your jawline. “I know how hard it is for my husband to be near you every day and not sink his teeth into this beautiful neck. You look as good as you’ll taste.” 

A moan racks your ribcage when her hand grips the side of your neck, bending it so the other side is on full display and her lips press to the sensitive flesh. Her tongue coming out to run the tip lightly against you, like she doesn’t dare indulge too much. Like it’s an appetizer to what she really wants. 

A trail of bruising kisses and hungry noises coming from the woman making your chest heave, your fingers daring to come up to her elbow to grip the fabric of her dress as an anchor—or to pull her closer—you're not too sure what your body wants, your senses not matching up with the fear still plaguing your brain. 

“Will you run for me, little rabbit?” You can feel the amusement at her own words with the smirk that’s pressed just below your ear. Your body canting at the derogatory pet name.

Until her next words come out of her mouth in a booming shriek that makes your ears ring and your body recoil from her in defense to protect itself from wrath. 

“Run!”

And you do. 

Not turning back to look to see if she’s chasing you. All the heat once again drained from your body, any pleasure you had been feeling doused out, and brought tears burning at the corners of your eyes. 

The candles on the wall continue to be your guiding light. Even when you step on something that makes you hiss. That tears the skin on the bottom of your foot enough to stutter your sprint. A limp catches in your leg as you try to make haste.

You were foolish for staying here. Foolish for leaving your room. Foolish for not seeing what this house really was or what it’s occupants really were.

Foolish. 

If there had been a spell, you had fallen for it. Like a silly little girl.

The closer you get to your chamber door, the harder your heart beats against your ribs. The harder you try to ignore the sting in your heel. The harder it is for you to breathe. 

The distance only seems to get further and further away from safety the longer you try for it. The longer your eyes strain in the candlelight to not step on something else that could make you completely imobile. Completely at Lady Kryze’s mercy. 

Who you don’t hear behind you. 

Who—upon your better judgment, one would say—you look for as you turn your head towards the path behind you. Your blood running cold when you see that all the candles have completely gone out and you can’t see a thing. 

The flashes of lightening from the windows down below cascading the barest amount of light onto the floor. 

It’s the least of your worries when your body collides with a wall. 

Or what feels like a wall—a strained ache coming to your chest upon the collusion, your body thrown backwards as you groan from the impact your tailbone makes against the hard floor. 

And when your eyes open, you realize it’s not a wall you’ve collided with; it’s Lord Djarin. 

“I told you to stay in your room.” His voice is full of authority and aggravation as he pulls you from the floor. It’s a tone he’s never used on you, a grip on your arm that’s much more cruel than the light touches of fleeting moments spent together. 

“She–Lady Kryze–She.”

“Is insatiable, yes.” There’s a growl that’s completely for his wife’s sake and not your own. But the sound still makes your stomach clench. Your body dragged along the hallway by the hands of the man you’re now realizing is more dangerous than any normal man. 

A monster.

Like his wife.

And yet, you feel safe in his tight grasp. Feel safe with the memories you share with him. Of him. The man you knew before the monster. 

The fear of him never coming. 

The fear only comes back once you’ve reached your room, and he’s pushing you through the door only for your back to collide with something icy that grips your wrist and snakes it’s fingers along the column of your neck to hold you against it.

“Bo.” Lord Djarin’s voice is stern. Angry. 

“Darling.” You can feel the smile that’s wrapped around the word even without seeing Lady Kryze’s face. 

The cold of her body seeping through your night dress and against your skin—a cold that’s not from the fear of what she is rather than what she’s doing. What has stained her lips and tongue and what you wanted so badly to taste just minutes ago. The same deep red clearly stained in the front fabric of your gown that you hadn’t noticed until now.

Until you’re standing in front of Lord Djarin, your night dress more see through and clinging to your body, where it’s damp from blood and straining against your breasts. 

Lady Kryze’s grip tightens on your throat, and it makes a breathless noise fall from your lips. A noise that has Lord Djarin’s eyes honing in on your mouth, moving along to his wife's hand on your throat, before plunging down to your chest. A hard swallow and a deep scowl shot at the woman holding you in her vise. 

“Let her go.”

“We were just having a little fun. Weren’t we?” Her teeth knick your earlobe, and it makes your body contort against her hold. “See,” she smirks. 

“Bo. No.” His tone has finality. Has something that wordlessly lets you know he’s tired of this topic; he’s clearly told her no on before. 

Something inside your stomach lightens up and burns at the thought of Lord Djarin denying his wife the pleasure of making you a meal time and time again. Was it out of respect? Care? Want?

Did she want to sink her teeth into you so badly because of jealousy at the closeness you and her husband had found the longer you worked here? No, she said they like to share. Said she likes to share. 

Was it want then?

The want to do more than end your life by draining you.

“Come on, Din.” The hand at your wrist does a show of crawling with her sharp nails over your midsection and to your hip to start pulling up your night dress. Your thighs quickly come into view as she bunches the fabric further and further up. A shyness takes over you as you wiggle in her grasp as you watch Lord Djarin’s eyes follow the movement with a hungry look. “We all know you want her.” 

Her lips press against your jaw as she murmurs to you, “he never allows himself to indulge in the things he wants. He’s so disciplined. Such a good man. He’d never let it slip that after you leave his library, he bends me over his desk and fucks me the way he wishes he could fuck you.”

An involentary noise that get’s choked out of your throat makes her laugh softly, “tell him he can have you. Tell him you like it.” Your eyes lock with his; his eyes just as dark and monstrous as his wife's now that you’re really looking at them. His lips that deep red—the same red you smelled and craved to taste on her lips. 

Your thighs inwardly press together, causing the pressure between them to ease the slightest, but grow worse when your backside pushes back against Lady Kryze and she lets out a noise that sounds just as lovely as she looks. 

“Look, Din.” A heat comes to your cheeks as the rest of the fabric of your gown is pulled above your hips, showcasing your nakedness to both of them. “There’s no denying she wants you,” her fingers move down to grip your inner thigh. The clear and evident proof of your arousal—that you’re not sure was caused earlier or right now—coats your skin and her fingers. 

“No, she is not-”

“What? Food?” Lady Kryze laughs, “we both know you’d never let me drain her. Nor could you bear to have anything but her essence touch your tongue. But she can be a toy. You can fuck her. We both can.” 

You can see the internal battle he’s fighting with himself—against his wife, against what’s right, against his want. 

And there’s a part of you that understands. That knows this is wrong. That has barely come to terms with what they are—monsters, myths, and scary stories you tell little children at night to get them to go to bed. 

But then the proof of your arousal, of your own want is being toyed with between your thighs as Lady Kryze runs a finger through your wetness. Your hips canting against her hand as she pulls it away just as quick as it was there and holds her finger out to her husband. 

“Taste her.”

His head is about to shake; you can sense it. See it before it happens by the way his fists bunch at his sides. Maybe that's why you finally find your voice, “please.”

And it’s as if those are the words he’s been waiting for you to say since the day you’ve met. Since you’ve started working for him. The speed at which he’s against your front and his lips are wrapped around the finger that has gathered the wetness from your pussy makes you feel woozy. 

Makes you sway on your feet and loosen in Lady Kryze’s hold. Her nails dig into your flesh as she holds you tighter, keeping you upright for her husband. 

Whose finger is under your chin, mouth daringly close to yours as he murmurs, “are you certain?”

Do you want this?

Do you want all it entails if you let this continue?

His dark eyes speak; let you know that he’ll stop this. That while you might be weak in comparison to who they truly are, you have a say, and he’ll do whatever you wish. 

A wise woman would heed the warning that’s in the brow he raises. Thats in the descent of his finger down your chin and to your jugular. Your heartbeat thudding against the pad of his finger. His tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes cast to your neck and then up to his wife. 

Who's giving him a smile you can’t see but can feel in the way her body shifts, pulling your thighs apart easily. Lord Djarin needs no more confirmation for either of you as he falls to his knees, a rough hand cupping the back of your thigh to lift and bring it up and over his shoulder. 

Your back arching, and a gasp rakes through your body when you feel the bite of teeth against your inner thigh. Feel the sting of punctured skin, the pull of something inside that’s making your eyes flutter, and the pressure in your lower belly thumping at the same speed as your heart. 

When your eyes shift down, when he’s stopped, when you feel like you could either pass out or come from just this, you see blood—your blood—staining his lips and tongue. See his eyes go even darker, black, and void of any human attributes. Making him look entirely like a monster that’s hungry, starved. 

And you’ve completely offered yourself up for the taking. 

There’s a deep moan coming from Lord Djarin as his fingers and tongue clean his mouth. It’s obscene as much as it is beautiful to watch. Your arousal only grows worse at the sight. 

“How does she taste?” 

“Exqusite.” He murmurs against your skin, his tongue running over the marks he’s just left in your thigh, working it’s way up to the apex of your thigh. Your legs shake the closer he gets to your pussy. 

A cry burns your lungs when you feel him dive into you without any warning. His tongue licking through your wetness, his nose pressing against your clit. The tip of it creates a slow grind that only intensifies when you cant your hips up. When you thrust against the air, his tongue slips inside of you, pushing it further inside. Your fingers dig into the sides of your dress as you try not to completely collapse against either of them. 

The pleasure coursing through your body makes that easier said than done. 

Lady Kryze is humming against your cheek, her hand coming down to slow the movement of your hips. “Take your time, little rabbit.” She trails kisses and soft bites over and under your jaw to your earlobe, where she lets the tip of her tongue run against it. “Because once you’ve come, you’re mine to play with.” 

[im-his-druidess]

Heyyyy Pers 🧡🖤🧡🖤

For your paranormal slashers, what about ghost hunter reader investigating the old Sinclair House ruins after the events of House of Wax and Ghost Bo & Vincent are there and naughty things happen?

This is another good take on them being paranormal creatures!

I always viewed Bo as some sort of Vampire or even a Incubus...especially considering his murderfuck dungeon 👀 and I always viewed Vincent as a Vampire or even a Gargoyle (something I discussed with @mandowifey eons ago)

So it's cool to think of them as ghosts or phantoms!

I can see this AU happening even if Reader was just a normal person. Like if she got a small house near somewhere in the town of Ambrose. Maybe a small little cottage or something that was dirt cheap and the only thing available so she jumped at the chance. Ignoring the "rumors" of the abandoned town being haunted as just superstition left over from the real life crimes that happened.

Once she moved in she's almost instantly aware of someone, or something, watching her. Doesn't matter if she's outside, in her home, or the time of day. Something is always watching. Then her things will start disappearing, mainly her undergarments, and her items will be misplaced like her hairbrush or perfume.

That couple with other odd things happening like fingerprints on her bathroom mirror, candles being lit even though she swears she extinguished them, the sensation of something touching her hair or back or even her ass, and the feeling of something sitting on her bed while she sleeps makes her second-guess everything she's ever known. Also it doesn't help that a white and black dog adamantly refuses to leave her home.

Of course that's only the beginning...

[sijssjsbssjsnsnnskbskwns]

Vampire!Reader

Extra…

Stranger things 5 episodes

•The crawl…)

•The Vanishing of…….Wheeler)

•The Turnbow trap…)

•Sorcerer…)

•Shock Jock…)

•Escape from Camazotz…)

•The bridge…)

•The Rightside Up…)

•Stranger things 5 x reader possibilities?….(only four idea’s for you so far)

•Stranger Things 5 X Camazot!Reader

•Stranger Things 5 X Demogorgan!Shapeshifter!Reader

•Stranger Things 5 X Rio Vidal!Reader (Rio Vidal from Agatha All Along, aka lady death)

•Stranger Things 5 X Female!Art The Clown!Reader (Just like art the clown from the Terrifier movies just female version)

(A/n: there will be another post with more ideas maybe or I’ll keep updating this one…Anyways your welcome…)

Another audio/music I think goes well with the vibe of Hell of a Sumner (2025)

[suzyandthefox]

Ladybug

I wrote this uninspired and it somehow became my longest vore fic ever

This was out of my comfort zone, I was inspired by @imafayliure 's post

Content warnings: Gore (not too much) ,animal death, Vore (duh), general angst and misunderstanding (they end on a good note), an insult in Spanish.

Soft,safe, quarter size(?) m/m vore, unwilling prey and not very sober pred.

Taglist: @pineappleparfaitie @opikarts (interact if you want to be added, Ask if you want to be removed)

Word count: 3,500

Lumen hated going outside, especially since he and his brother moved to this cabin, which was built next to a large pond.

It was humid, it was wet, it was full of pesky creatures that weren't edible -like mosquitoes-, and the constant noises of wildlife was driving him crazy.

Yes,there was fish to hunt, and other crustaceans, but he needed something that had blood in it.

Being a vampire borrower is a complicated state of life.

One night, he was dizzy with hunger, he had to find something to eat, something alive and pulsing and filled with blood…

His gray eyes fell on something small,round, and red. It hid in the tall grass that surrounded the pond, the bright red color would be a warning for predators to not come near.

Not for Lumen, it compelled him to get closer.

============

Bunyan curled around himself in fear as he tried to control his sobs, he shouldn't have come here at all,he shouldn't have!

Already being at the miniscule height of one inch tall was horrifying, even his wings and their bright red color didn't stop every creature out there from trying to eat him.

And there it was, another one of them, it was big and skinny and… human shaped? But also not a human?

Bunyan was filled with both curiosity and fear, he stood up in a defensive stance, flashing his red wings once again.

“Stay back! Or… or I will give you a bad time!!”

Instead, the being only got closer, its silhouette now illuminated under the moonlight.

It was slender,tall,draped in dark rags and wrapped it's face in old white cloths, and it reminded him of a… Raven.

It had caused him even more fear, this strange creature was a predator wearing the skin of a friend, it looked humanoid but it was far from that.

“Now now, little one, easy there, no need to be spicy.” Then it spoke, Bunyan shivered, its voice was rough and deep… 

And human? There was something nice about it, it sounded sincere even.

“F…Fine! But I remind you that I'm NOT edible!” Still in his defensive stance, Bunyan warned.

“Indeed you aren't, you're too spicy!” The being joked half heartedly, it sounded tired as well.

“Who are you? What are you?” Bunyan tilted his head as he lowered his guard, his wings stopped fluttering and returned to their place on his back.

“Lumen, you can call me Lumen…”

“And… Honestly I don't know, I used to be a borrower, but now I'm unsure.”

“But what about you? You're awfully way too small to be a borrower, what are you?”

Lumen walked closer to the tiny ladybug boy, almost wholly engulfing him in his shadow.

Even as they're both small beings in this big world, the sheer size difference between him and the boy was still shocking.

He could easily pick up the boy with both of his hands, just like how a human would pick up a cat, after all,the kid was the size of a newborn baby.

“I'm a borrower… at least I think I am, I never saw much outside my colony.”

“First time alone?” Lumen knelt on one knee to lessen the height difference between them.

“Yes actually, I'm supposed to look for a place to stay, so I can live on my own this winter.” The boy still maintained his distance between him and the larger, much more intimidating borrower.

“Live on your own_there’s no way you're an adult.” The vampire borrower murmured, a look of great concern drawn on his eyes, even as his face wasn't visible underneath the cloth.

Maybe it was just his fatherly instincts, but he was unable to perceive the ladybug kid as anything other than, well, a kid.

“I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Bunyan!” The boy gingerly extended his hand to handshake, now that he was partially sure that the man was a fellow borrower.

Bunyan, even his name is adorable.

Lumen was starting to believe he stumbled upon a character from a children's book and not a real person , let alone a full grown adult.

The beast crept up on him and kept whispering in his ears, he was getting hungrier by the moment and he was barely keeping himself in check.

He was starving,he was yearning for the taste of fresh,hot blood going down his throat, but the only living Infront of him was…

No,NO, he shook his head and tried to get rid of the idea, this is a friend,a friend.

“Are you okay?” Bunyan asked with confusion.

“I'm alright kid, just… Hungry.”

Bunyan instinctively took a step back, he still didn't like how the bigger borrower looked like a carnivorous animal.

Yes he hunts and eats aphids for a living, but it wasn't the same, the bigger borrower had sharp fangs, it was as if he eats people alive.

Before Bunyan could talk, a loud noise of something slimy and big hit the ground.

A dreaded noise echoed in the air around them.

Croak

A toad, it was a toad.

Instinctively, Lumen grabbed the tiny boy and picked him up, and bolted out of the scene to the tall grass again before the sudden attack of the tongue has touched them.

It was bigger and stouter than most toads both of them had seen.

For Lumen, he could fight that thing with his bare hands and win, the amphibian wouldn't be interested in him due to his big size after all.

But it was poor Bunyan who would be devoured as soon as that toad looks at him.

He whimpered at the thought of being eaten, shaking heavily, oh how glad he was that there was a bigger borrower right here that can protect him.

He found himself tugging at Lumen's shirt, his breaths bated and shallow, his small body wouldn't stop shaking.

Lumen noticed the thin sheen of a foul smelling liquid on the boy’s arms and legs, wetting his clothes.

His sense of smell wasn't working the way it should work due to him being unable to breathe, so it wasn't the smell that disturbed him.

Still he found it… weird, he preferred not to comment on the matter.

“It's a defense mechanism,I swear! O-our bodies secrete a liquid from our joints so that when a predator smells us, they will leave us alone.” The boy blushed and squirmed as he tried to explain.

Well , that makes it better, but the sensation wasn't the best

regardless.

He could still hear the croaks nearby, as if the toad was still determining where they are, and as he got more stressed, he wrapped his black coat around both himself and Bunyan, as if to hide the boy within him.

“You could do exactly that” his inner beast whispered to him, again he shook his head in refusal.

“Think about it, the boy is very small, and you, you're bigger, you're easily capable of hiding him… In you.”

“If anything has to eat the boy, it should be you.”

“Just for a while, just a few, harmless minutes, to satiate us both.”

But isn't he too… big? Lumen peeked once at the boy in his arms and his heart shattered into millions of pieces.

Big, frightful, wide eyes looked at him, practically begging him to protect the boy. He was so small, that the task was easier and harder at the same time.

Physically he can go with it, out of his comfort zone but he can go with it.

Emotionally however? He will never fully recover from it and neither will the boy.

He wanted to think about this again but the loud noise of the toad landing In front of them, and the beast coiling around his throat like a vile snake, he let go of all his humanity at that moment.

“I apologize so much for this, but it's for your own good,” was the last thing he said before he had let himself break loose.

Bunyan, at first, was very confused at Lumen's words.

But it was when the larger borrower opened his maw and a series of sharp, large fangs glinted underneath the moonlight that the boy’s heart dropped.

This isn't happening, this isn't happening, he surely hoped with every molecule of his body that what he thought was happening wasn't happening.

But it was when his head was stuck into the jaws, his antennas brushing with the back of the throat, that he knew that the nightmare was real.

For Lumen, perhaps it was the beast’s control, perhaps it was his hunger, or perhaps it was even an ability he knew nothing about,but he found the task of swallowing the smaller borrower whole frighteningly easy.

It was second nature even, his throat accommodated the size, then he found himself taking a hefty gulp, his body eagerly accepting of the large meal.

Still it was different, it was strange, it was something he hadn't done before, combined with the stressful atmosphere and the time they had, it was a quick but very messy process.

He was grateful that he wasn't breathing at that moment and that he didn't need to, he would’ve absolutely choked if he did.

It was strange how he was still able to gobble up the kid despite his current state not accepting anything besides blood, but then again, the boy did have blood in him, and something about that truly satiated the beast, it was still appealing to the vampire side of him.

A second swallow, and despite the squirms, the sobs, and the absolutely foul,bitter taste that filled his mouth he continued, pushing the tiny legs into his mouth with his hand.

Finally he got to a point where he no longer needed to shove the ladybug down, and he could let gravity do the rest of the work.

Bunyan's sobs and begs echoed through him and reached his ears, muffled by his undead flesh, but at that moment he couldn't hear them, the frenzy far too strong.

Rippling muscles and hungry organs hugged the boy and pulled him deeper into the belly of the beast, soon Bunyan, who already gave up all hope, would be welcomed by the stomach.

Lumen felt a distinct weight fill him and push against his clothes, he put his hand on the small lump that formed, and he pushed it into himself, as if trying to hide the boy deeper inside his guts.

And it was also a hug, a strange, awkward hug.

Something about this whole ordeal made the beast rumble in excitement, this was good, this was right, to have live, squirming prey inside his belly.

Even if he physically couldn't digest it, it was far better and far more satisfying than eating regular food, it was no different from having the greatest thanksgiving feast and eating until you can't eat anymore.

But unfortunately he couldn't enjoy this for too long, the human part in him was tearing itself apart from guilt, and there's another predator right there that looked completely pissed at the fact it's snack was stolen.

The weight in his stomach disoriented him, and while his frenzied state was an excellent hunter, he was still worried about harming the boy.

He stood up and stared into the toad's eyes, who squinted at him and narrowed its eyes as well.

“You wanted that snack, Aye?”

“Well he's mine now… Pinche Pendejo” He said as he put a possessive hand over his stomach.

As if the toad understood the insult, it launched its tongue at Lumen, determined to make the large borrower its snack.

But instead of hopping away,the vampire borrower took it as a chance, as soon as the slimy tongue pulled him close, he swiftly stuck his claws deep into the thick skin of the toad’s sides, and toppled it on its back, wrestling with it.

He pinned the creature to the ground, exposing it's soft underbelly, it was almost impossible to keep a good grip on the slimy creature, but all it took was one quick swipe from his claws to gore the toad and tear it's stomach open, finally killing it.

As soon as the deed was done, he felt the beast release him from his current state, satisfied with the violence it caused.

And the only thing left was the terrible, terrible guilt and regret, as he was able to hear the faint,weak sobs the poor boy made.

They were inaudible now, and Lumen was unsure if he was asleep or waiting for his death.

He was going to let him out of course, but he took a moment to… Understand what is exactly happening.

He was a cold,undead being, with no warmth of his own and no pulse.

But inside his stomach was a living person, with a fluttering pulse and warmth that radiated from him and seeped into Lumen's own bones and body.

He rubbed at his full stomach, feeling the dread that will come from having to explain his intentions to the poor thing.

He couldn't keep him for longer, even if he wanted to, and this whole thing has made him ask himself, was the act of swallowing Bunyan whole the right choice?

He thought, and realized that no, it wasn't.

It would have been easier if he just asked Bunyan to hide in the grass or behind a rock, and even if Bunyan got swallowed by the toad he could’ve gutted it just like he did now.

He realized that he was protecting Bunyan from himself, rather than the toad, the choice he made at that moment wasn't his own choice.

And so he decided to not let the torture go on any longer and let the ladybug boy out to the world again.

It was a tedious process, having to work his body in reverse,the muscles of his stomach kneading around his poor prisoner, and working him upwards, the small lump in his abdomen gradually shrunk as the weight inside it was lifted to his esophagus instead.

Then into his hands the boy was released, wet and covered in saliva and other fluids he had no idea what they were.

He didn't have a great understanding of anatomy, not even his own.

The look that the boy had on him was nothing short of seething hatred, and it was understandable, it was truly understandable.

“Are you alrig_”

“Why?” Bunyan's voice was quiet, tired, but it still burned.

The vampire stayed quiet, every single explanation and excuse he thought of… They were all selfish, none of them were actually in Bunyan's favor.

The wet ladybug boy looked next to him to see a mauled toad, its guts spilling on the ground.

“So it was true, you're really a monster pretending to be a borrower.” He quietly commented.

It was that moment where it finally sank in Lumen’s mind that Bunyan was an adult, a child wouldn't hate him that much, it would be afraid, but not vengeful.

He, again, tried to think of anything to say.

“I was trying to help,” was all he was able to get out.

“You're no better than that toad… But at least a toad is upfront about what it wants! Not attempting to be my friend, only to decide to eat me later!”

Bunyan had nothing but his words, he couldn't do anything, his weakness against the vampire that swallowed him whole with ease was a horrible thing, even right now, when the vampire has let him out, he wouldn't put him on the ground.

He tried to stay strong, but the nightmare that was being eaten alive broke his wavering courage, he didn't want to cry again.

“Bunyan… I'm sorry, I swear, I wasn't going to hurt you, you were going to be safe,” his name came out like a crude mockery of a friendship from the vampire’s mouth.

“Sure! Keeping me safe by eating me alive!”

“Please just… Stop, put me down.” The attempts at consolation were almost just as bad as the experience of being eaten.

And he was put down on the dewy grass, shivering slightly as the breeze hit him.

“I was going to tell the colony about you, they would've known how to deal with something like… you,” 

“But I don't want anyone I care about to go through what I went through, so consider yourself lucky.”

Lumen noticed the lack of usage of his name, it meant that whatever frail bond they created was severed forever.

Bunyan flapped his wings, and they didn't work, they were incapacitated by the saliva.

He sat down on the ground, barely holding back tears, and that's when something like a large blanket wrapped him, drying him up.

He looked upwards to find that the vampire, who had just eaten him alive, had wrapped him in his coat, but he was nowhere to be seen.

And so was the mauled toad.

=========

It's been a few minutes, Bunyan fell asleep and woke up several times.

A realization hit him, he missed being in that borrower’s stomach.

It was soft, so very soft, and it was gently hugging him through the whole fight. It wasn't the warmest, but that's good, he preferred the lukewarmness.

No! This isn't rational! He shouldn't be missing it! He was eaten alive!

But maybe the larger borrower was sincere about his intentions, and it's not like he was digested, he was just sleepy.

Hypothetically, if he knew it was safe, he would've asked to stay for the rest of the night, he was very tired,and scared.

He jolted as he felt a large hand on his shoulder.

“Better now?” It was the larger borrower’s voice.

“I thought you were gone?” He asked.

Lumen shook his head

“I thought you wanted some time by yourself, especially after… everything.”

“Thank you...I have come to terms with it.” It was very considerate on the other borrower’s part,he had to admit it, even if he very much still didn't come to terms with it.

“You never explained how it was safe for me to be there.”

“Right…”

There was a moment of silence, before Lumen began slowly and patiently explaining:

“Like I told you earlier, I was a borrower before.” He flinched as he remembered.

“But then I died.”

Died? 

“Some monster killed me, but it didn't just leave me to die, it fed me its foul blood and told me that I belong to it.”

“That… was two centuries ago.”

Centuries?! Bunyan was shocked, the longest anyone of his colony lived was three years, and he didn't even have his first birthday yet!

The concept was far too much to grasp for the boy, the fact that this borrower lived in the same time as his ancient ancestors was headache inducing.

“Anyway, since I am technically dead, that means I can “live” without breathing or eating, but I have to occasionally drink blood instead.”

“Like a mosquito?”

“Kinda, what I'm trying to get at is, my organs are vestigial, useless, you could take my brain away and I would still go on with my undeath.”

“By extension, my stomach is useless for its purpose, it can't digest anything, so I instead store the important things in it if I can.”

He put a hand on Bunyan's head and gently patted him.

“Today I learned that I can store the important people too.”

Bunyan's pale cheeks flushed a bright red, but he just tried to ignore it.

“I'm sorry for all the rude things I said earlier… You aren't a monster, you're just… different.”

“Don't be,I shouldn't have done it in the first place, you were rightfully angry at me, I know I would be pissed too if some big lug snatched me off the ground and gobbled me up without a good warning.”

They shared a dry laugh, and Bunyan tried to flap his wings again, they were drier now, thanks to the large coat he was huddling himself in.

“Look at you, swaddled in my coat like a baby, I almost want to eat you up again.” 

Bunyan didn't find it as funny, he furrowed his eyebrows.

He took a look at the undead borrower, without his coat, his skeletal frame was apparent,his shirt was hanging on his body rather than being on it, and for a moment he wondered how in the world did this skinny frame wholly contain him with ease.

“It was very scary, you know.”

“But it was also… nice, and now that I think about it, you did try to tell me it was alright.”

“So… Thank you again, for everything,” The boy smiled “I'm glad to meet you, Lumen.”

“I'm glad to meet you as well, I will be sure to visit during winter.”

With that, Bunyan handed the large , now wet coat to it's owner, and got up to stretch all four of his arms.

“Stay safe, Boy!” Lumen waved goodbye to Bunyan.

“You too!” The boy waved back.

Both went their separate ways, even as Lumen felt a desperate need to follow the kid until he was safe.

He had so much to tell his brother that night.