#scholar!reader

[winterrrnight]

hi edith! i love your writing so much 🫶 especially the dynamic scholar!reader with rafe. can you make more please 🥺🩷 but with mean!rafe or fratboy!rafe

ahhh thank you for your request and your kind words anon 🫶I hope you like reading this :) I went with frat!rafe because to be honest mean!rafe isn’t much of my thing 😅 let me know your views on this if you feel like <3

late night sessions

PAIRING: frat!soft!rafe cameron x gn!scholar!reader

SUMMARY: rafe helps you back in bed after you accidentally fall asleep while studying.

WARNINGS: reader is a stem student (or basically anything except business because that is rafe’s major); established relationship; minimal usage of nicknames like babe; minimal swearing; rafe is soft for reader; fluff

EDITH SPEAKS: love love love scholar!reader with my whole heart 🥰 I’m so glad I’m getting to write them again. (manifesting major scholar!reader vibes for myself for my upcoming college year 😚) read my original scholar!reader blurb here <3

please reblog if you liked reading this! feedback is always appreciated 🪸

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It’s like you are completely cut off from the outside world; your books, notes, flashcards, and your laptop surround you on your desk as you find yourself knee deep in this semester’s syllabus, your mind already working on an overdrive for midterms – even when you still have a whole week before the dreaded exams approach.

But your boyfriend? He’s totally opposite. 

Exams don’t even begin mattering to him until one night before the actual exam day when he practically rawdogs some borrowed notes, not knowing what half of the content means but he’s cramming and gulping down information as if his life depends on it. And then guess what? He always gets a minimum of 50% of the total marks on each of his exams, making him the cockiest bastard to ever exist. 

 “See babe? This shit’s easy as fuck. Passed with all flying colors ’n shit,” He grins, practically shoving his grade sheet in your face. You always have to swallow down the urge to smack that irritatingly perfect face of his, blowing off that smirk right off his face. 

“Shut it, your business shit’s easy to pass alright?” You grumble under your breath. You very well know business isn’t easy, but the fact that Rafe is passing it with pretty decent scores by studying only one night before makes you think differently.

Your current focus on your notes is broken when you hear a knock at your dorm door. Begrudgingly, you yell out a ‘come in’, not moving your attention from your notes for even a split second. You hear the door open and close from the front of the room, and when you feel a figure approach you from the back and wrap their arms around you, you know who it is. 

“Hey babe,” Rafe mumbles in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at all your books and notes surrounding you. 

“Hey,” You mumble back, your focus not withering at all. 

“Missed you tons today,” He mumbles, gently caressing your neck with his fingertips before nuzzling against the soft skin, his lips beginning to press slow, languid kisses.

“Yeah same,” You mutter, dragging your laptop closer as you open the file you want to access, your entire body, mind and soul completely unphased by Rafe. 

Rafe sighs as he presses one last kiss to the side of your neck before lifting his head up. “Already studying for your midterms?” He says, reluctantly stepping back from you to flop down on your bed, his gaze never leaving you. He already knows the answer to his question: you wouldn’t be the person he’s so deeply infatuated with if you aren’t giving a head start to your head start for your exam preparations.

“Uh huh,” Comes out your quiet voice as he watches you, your brows furrowed as you scroll through something on your laptop. He trains his gaze over to the small digital clock sitting on the corner of your desk, flashing the numbers 11:17 in a bright white. 

“Babe it’s getting late, come sleep with me,” He says, beginning to scoot over to make space for you, but your next words make him stop. 

“It’s okay Rafe you sleep, I’ll be there in a few,” 

Few. It can mean anything in your dictionary. It can mean 40 seconds, or 28 minutes, or 3 hours, or the entire night.

Rafe lets out a quiet sigh as he thinks of coaxing you to get in bed with him again, but he knows it’s not going to work. 

“You better not ‘accidentally’ pull an all-nighter again you hear me?” He says, a tinge of sternness in his voice as he fluffs the pillows once before dropping his head on them. 

You don’t say anything, just make a quick move to turn off the main light of the room and turn on your desk lamp instead. The room plunges into darkness except for the soft glow of your desk light, illuminating your desk and you sitting in front of it.

Rafe turns over on his side to look at you, his hand under his head. He watches you study quietly, your facial features glowing under the desk light and the light from your laptop screen. He tried to keep his eyes open for as long as he can, but the occasional typing of the keyboard, pen scratching against the paper as you write, and your barely audible whispering begin to lull him into a sleep which he finds harder and harder to pull himself from. 

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Rafe shifts in his position, letting out a soft grunt under his breath as he turns over on his side after being on his back. He squints his eyes as he feels a certain light hit his heavy, closed eyelids. He forces them to open, his vision blurry for the first few seconds. As his vision sets and his mind begins to gain consciousness, he realizes your desk light is still on. 

You are crouched over in the chair, your head resting on the table in your arms. Your notes are scattered around and your laptop is open but now under sleep mode. Rafe darts his attention over to the clock, and the numbers 2:32 flash back at him. 

“Jesus,” He mutters under his breath, helping his sleep-ridden body up from the bed. He walks over to your hunched position and gently shakes your shoulder. 

“Babe, babe come sleep in the bed,” His raspy voice comes out. For a moment, you don’t move, but after a few gentle shakes you do, slowly lifting your head up from your arms. 

“What…” You mumble sleepily, your eyes barely open. You are just as sleepy as Rafe, if not more. 

Rafe shuts your laptop close and switches off the desk light, the only light now coming through the small window of your dorm. His hand finds your arm and he gently pulls you up from the chair. 

“Come sleep in bed,” He repeats, his voice still groggy as he helps you up from the desk chair. Your extremely tired body doesn’t put up a fight even once and you let him lead you over to the bed. 

Rafe helps you lie down and he lays next to you, his arms wrapping around your frame in an instant. You succumb to his embrace the very next second and snuggle closer to him, resting your head on his chest. 

Both of you fall asleep after your shared moment of momentary awakeness, your sleepy body tucked snugly against his for the rest of the night. 

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am, @saccharinesammie, @maybankslover, @totalswag, @madelynie, @chenslucy /

@ietss, @elle-mp3, @viawritesstuff, @wallsdreams, @mistress-amidala /

@sadfury, @sage-burrow, @jamesbuckybarneswify, @xxxlaura, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @callsignwidow /

@starkowswife, @drewstarkeyswifehoe, @jjchaer, @f4ll-for-you, @wearemadeofstardust0 /

@drewsmusee, @rafegirly, @addriaenne, @leighbronk, @rafesdrew /

@bejeweledreverie, @raf3sgff, @aerangi, @drewstarkey1bae, @moneymaybank, @spideysimpossiblegirl /

@spideysimpossiblegirl, @noahkahansorangejuice, @rafesgiirl, @theoraekenslover, @fals3-g0d /

@personalfavsthatarerandom, @b1mb0slvt @babypoguelife, @ilyrafe, @oxpogues4lifexo /

@fionaswifeyy /

[allimili]

can you draw shadow milk showing support for y/n for exam days pls ☹️🤍 we just need some fluff fr

extra

[harmonysanreads]

Anaxa : Stalking? I was just... educating myself on your lore.

[sheep-from-rad]

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

[voidcat]

Kissing Anaxa’s hand whenever he pushed himself to his limits and the mark on the back of his hand begins to sting, burn through his skin & Anaxagoras kissing your eyes and gently brushing off the stray hairs falling onto your face on the nights you’ve overworked yourself to the point your eyes begin to burn and sting

[screamingcrows]

"I thought I told you to let me finish speaking," Anaxagoras sounded wholly unbothered, no doubt he looked it as well.

Your breaths were coming in ragged gasps, fingers hurting from how fiercely you clung to the bark behind him. It took all in you to resist the urge to sink your teeth into his shoulder.

'I was merely taking measures to ensure the silence you requested'

Those words never made it past your lips, a moan taking their place instead as he languidly moved his hips, nudging the head of his cock against a spot that made stars not yet charted appear before your eyes.

The click of his tongue wasn't lost on you, not even in the near delirious state he had you in. How long you'd held firm, straddling his hips and pushing away the feral urge to move, time was impossible to tell in the quiet solitude of the grove.

Quiet save for the occasional wet squelch when his stream of reflections ceased (for the sake of impact, he had no intention of appearing an unprepared fool at the next symposium), leaving him time to sigh contently and perhaps reward you with a shallow thrust.

Relief and hope that he would show mercy was lost the moment he tugged your head back, the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Perhaps," two slender fingers traced your bottom lip, gently pushing into your mouth, "this will prevent any disturbances. Having to start over once is aggravating enough."

[fatuismooches]

(hello hi ♦ anon here i've been lurking)

Okay completely piggybacking off of that hsr boss idea you had where Reader takes damage for Dottore because they can't stand seeing him hurt...

I'm not even sure if this would be remotely fair, but I've been thinking up a concept for a bit and i need to dump it somewhere lol.

So, imagine a mechanic for Reader where they jump in to take Dottore's damage for a few turns (defense + speed buffs) because they feel like their frail state isn't exactly helping him win the fight. Dottore thinks otherwise, of course, but Reader is determined to "make themselves useful." It would be triggered if Dottore is attacked/debuffed repeatedly., and then would keep happening unless you decide to attack Reader outright.

HOWEVER. Dottore has a mechanic where he enters a state of fury (damage + speed buffs) if Reader is attacked too many consecutive times, obviously because how dare you harm them when he's literally right there. This self-buff would probably happen every time after the first activation until you switch targets.

Enter the scenario of Reader being hit repeatedly, Dottore becoming an absolute powerhouse (because of course it stacks), and uh oh their boss fight had to be nerfed like Aventurine's.

Honestly, looking over it while I write this out has me questioning my own brain but this has been in the thought oven for about an hour lol (do not let me design hsr bosses)

(x) AUGHH ANON THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I HAD IN MIND... I CAN'T EVEN ADD MUCH BECAUSE IT'S SO ACCURATE...

Even though Reader would have fairly low HP compared to Dottore and the backup reinforcements, they still can't help but want to do their part instead of just watching from the sides, enabling the mechanic. Therefore it's pretty hard to land any hits on the Harbinger and pretty easy to defeat Reader instead. This will automatically make you in for a tough time, as once they go below a certain percentage of HP, the buffs would kick in which would make it not very fun. It would only get worse if Reader is completely defeated - but the buffs would go away once another enemy heals Reader, and then restart the process *gets nerfed asap*.

There would also be special achievements: "A Wise Choice" - Defeat Dottore without defeating [Name]. "Intertwined Fate" - Defeat Dottore and [Name] at the same time. "A Foolish Choice" - Defeat Dottore after defeating [Name].

Also, I imagine a similar mechanic with Reader as the sole boss with the other enemies being Fatui Agents, however, they can't attack and will instead heal the other enemies while simultaneously advancing their actions, and said agents are eternally loyal to Reader, and will take the hits for them.

[pinksugarscrub]

Atlantis

Milo Thatch! Reader x Kida! Hobie

@yumeaoka-chan , this is my favorite scene rewritten with Hobart in mind.

Word count: 650

Warning(s): Hobie's concept of boundaries

~

“Okay-” you exhale, “I can do this.”

Placing one hand over your chest while the other supports your weight on a pillar so ancient you want to cry. The intricacies of the architecture reduced to faded imagery. Honestly it’s possible these could describe the topography of Atlantis just as well as it could describe its history. But the city—wait, you’re getting extremely off track.

There’s an Atlantean to confront.

“Look I have some questions for you and I’m not leaving until they’re answered.” You stumbled over your words as you rock on your heels.

Was it honestly possible to sweat this much in an underwater city? Normally your anxiety was bad but not this bad

Then again this wasn’t a normal Tuesday where you presented your findings in front of a committee. Where rejection was just a delayed yes. No this was-

“I have some questions for you and you are not leaving this city until they are answered.”

You sputter as you feel his breath against your ear. His body heat is just as difficult to register as he loops his arm around yours and presses it against your back.

“Hold- wait a minute.” You squeak, almost all in one word.

“Shh, come with me.”

That’s how you’ve found yourself being led by the man who healed the scar on your collar. He has to tug you along as the city grows smaller and smaller until it’s only a speck in the distance.

The plant life is so large and vibrant. Nothing hinders the roots from growing deep within the earth and if they do vines choke the stone until there isn’t anything left.

Crystal clear, and that isn’t an exaggeration. The waterfalls cascade down so far down into the body of water surrounding Atlantis the depth reminds you of a trench.

You hope a leviathan isn’t lurking beneath. A shiver rolls down your spine and then, you’re plummeting as you’re being tugged down a fallen beam by the hem of your jeans.

“You are a scholar are you not?”

The grin on his face has the complaint you had ready dying on your tongue. Tugging your jeans back up by your belt loops along with rolling your top down you let out a sigh. Pushing your glasses too back up the bridge of your nose.

In comparison to the man in front of you, you feel severely underdressed.

There are blue markings under his eye that you didn’t have the chance to notice in your first encounter. A singular gold earring on one ear while several were adorned on the other.

Royalty, he looked like royalty. Not in the polished and refined way the royal family was back home in England. No offense to the queen. It was much more subtle. Stemming from the confidence in his stance. The controlled excitement in his eyes.

“Judging from your diminished physique you are suited for nothing else,” he laughs. Knocking on your forehead as if it were a door.

You are beginning to mind how often he tugs and pulls at you. You aren’t a doll for crying out loud and he must be at least six feet. Were you weak or were Atlantean men just naturally stronger?

“What is your country of origin?”

You protest as he steals your glasses. Setting them on his nose with a triumphant smile. The lenses make his brown eyes larger of course.

You’re struggling to catch up as he spouts out question after question and you’re not doing much better in that department. You feel like a powder keg about to explode.

Carefully sliding your glasses off of his face you chuckle nervously. “Right, well, let’s do this. I have some questions for you too so you ask one then I’ll ask one.”

His smile softens and he lets out a huff. Preferably not at your expense. “Very well, what is your question?”

[mapofsouthdakota]

Maps rambles (and writes) - Caleb in a the Apothecary diaries/Forbidden City AU

I should not have started watching Season 2 of The Apothecary Diaries this afternoon because my brain exploded—again.

Details: 550 words of AU doodle. We’re talking non-MC!Reader, inspired by Maomao (bless her introverted brilliance)—but instead of Jinshi, we’ve got General Caleb. Yes. That’s right. Just summon CNY Caleb and you’ve got it. Poll below! Please kill my creativity.

Story direction + vibes: kind of like court intrigue meets emotional damage, with hidden identities, war-touched childhoods, and slow-burn tension you could cut with a hairpin.

Reader (you) — The forgotten consort with a polyglot brain

Your backstory is a little fuzzy. Foreign parents. Stranded in the empire. Dead now.

You speak Italian(?), English, and Chinese (now), but belong nowhere in particular.

The court took you in when you were small. Not out of pity—more like, hmm, exotic, let’s stash her somewhere quiet and pretty.

So now you’re one of the low-ranked consorts. Pretty. Obedient. Boring.

Or at least, that’s what they think. What you actually are:

Dangerously observant.

Fluent in more than just words—you read power shifts, secret glances, and the silence between lines.

Quiet, yes. But because you’re busy listening. Watching. Remembering. Funny in your own way.

You’re the knife hidden in silk. The girl no one expected to matter. Until, of course, you do.

——————————————————————————

The war-touched childhood (aka back when everything went to hell)

You and Caleb? Same village. A weird crossroads kind of place—traders, whispers, border tension.

You: the strange foreign child. Him: the half-wild local boy with a smug grin and a habit of climbing rooftops barefoot.

You taught him Italian cuss words. He taught you how to steal dumplings without getting caught. The pinky swear vibe. Soulmates, kind of.

“You were always watching,” he once said, squinting at you. “Like you could see something the rest of us were missing.”

And then:

War. Screaming. Fire.

He hid you. You remember his face lit by the glow of burning roofs. His bloodied hand. “Stay here. Don’t make a sound.”

He ran, luring soldiers away. You never saw him again.

Or so you thought.

Spoiler: He never stopped watching (peak Caleb behavior lol)

He never told anyone what he did. But he didn’t forget.

Over the years, he rose through military ranks. All steel and strategy and “don’t get attached.”

Except:

He kept tabs on you.

Pulled strings.

Made sure you were safe, educated, warm.

Never interfered directly. But always… there.

——————————————————————————-

The reunion aka Caleb goes “oh no, she’s hot”

Years pass. You grow up in the court. Memory turns blurry.

You’re calm now. Graceful. Dangerous in a whole new way.

Caleb walks into the palace on official business. Something something investigation.

He expects some sweet, scared thing in a silk robe.

Instead he finds you.

And you have no idea who he is.

But he remembers everything.

——————————————————————————

Caleb keeping his finger hovering over a flame:

He keeps his secret for a while. Watches you. Tests you.

You throw him off by not being impressed by his rank. Or obedient. Or afraid.

You look him in the eye and speak like someone who knows more than she says.

He tries to be professional. Fails spectacularly. Aka Caleb merges with horni boi Jinshi lol. Perfect match imo

The more he watches you solve things the court can’t, the more he realizes:

You don’t need him anymore. And it (probably) guts him.

——————————————————————————

Plot (aka hard Apothecary diaries inspiration)

A diplomat dies. Poisoned.

Strange letter is found—some foreign tongue. No one can read it.

Except, surprise: you. Lol

Suddenly, the court turns its gaze to the little consort in the corner.

And Caleb is summoned to investigate, officially.(Unofficially? He was already halfway there. Heh)

He expects a mystery.

He finds you—now fluent in Chinese, poised and totally unwilling to play dumb.

——————————————————————————-

Vibes

So like… I’m thinking dialogue like thiiiis, occasional POV switches, and the whole Forbidden Palace aesthetic absolutely drenched in sexual tension:

Caleb: “You. The consort with a tongue full of secrets.”

You: “I speak only when addressed, my lord.”

Caleb: leans in slightly, tone low “Good thing I can’t seem to stop addressing you, then.”

You: “You may want to consider restraint, my lord. I hear it’s a virtue.”

Caleb: quiet laugh, eyes dragging over your face like he’s cataloging it “So is discretion. Yet here you are, tucked behind a silk screen with enough languages in your head to unravel half the empire.”

There’s eye contact. There’s tension. There’s something ancient stirring in your chest you do not want to deal with right now.

Curtained hallways. Lingering glances. The kind of conversations where they’re technically discussing poison but actually flirting to death. THE YEARNING

You know—that vibe us Caleb stans LOVE.

——————————————————————————

Me, for the second time today, thinking about undressing General Caleb in prose:

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Yep. That’s the post. Can’t even blame the trees today—I ran along the beach. So unless the seagulls are whispering ideas now, this one’s on me. I don’t know Italian or Chinese, so fleshing this out will be a beautiful nightmare. Total Shogun vibes with the whole polyglot situation. And yes, since I dropped that MaoMao gif last post, just know—I worship her. Okey then, thank you for reading my doodle 🫶🏻

[pondslime]

sacramentum

FANDOM : midnight mass (2021) PAIRING : father paul hill x afab!fem!reader RATING : explicit 🔞 WORDCOUNT : 17.3k

Reader POV. Seeking peace and a sense of self, you pack up your life and move to a small fishing village in the Pacific Northwest.

You're not prepared for what you find there.

Read on AO3 here.

🔔 Only including an excerpt of the first thousand or so words under the cut, as Tumblr formatting hates longwinded porn!

Canon-divergent. Takes place in an alternative version of Episodes 1-4.

Blasphemy and filth fueled by religious guilt and repression. Hierophilia. Reader is agnostic and has no prior ties to the Catholic Church. Mutual pining (but make it weird). Having horny thoughts about a priest (and Christianity in general). Lots of yearning and pondering. Second person.

⚠️ Canonical animal death is mentioned. Blood-laced communion wine is given to the reader without her knowledge. Implied/referenced drug addiction (if you tilt your head slightly to the left). Age gap (20/30-something malaise and mental unwellness featured throughout). Dubious consent and coercion. Reader has no idea what she's gotten herself in for. Honestly, neither does he. ⚠️

When the smut rolls around: Body worship and oral (reader receiving). Soggy sub-leaning behavior from Peepaw Monsignor Father Paul. Because we deserve it. Weird sensory overload vampire sex. Lots of religious themes and motifs.

What can I say? 'Cause this is his body, this is his love. Such selfish prayers and I can't enough. Or whatever.

And I will pour upon you clean water, and you shall be cleansed from all your filthiness, and I will cleanse you from all your idols.

And I will give you a new heart, and put a new spirit within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and will give you a heart of flesh.

Ezekiel 36:25-26

The thing in the grass sees you far before you see it.

Later, you’ll find yourself wondering just how long it was watching you. It doesn’t really matter. Long enough.

Right now, you’re trying to count. It shouldn’t be that hard. Part of you knows that, but the other part doesn’t seem to be paying attention. Your brain does that sometimes—slips a bit, gives up halfway through.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6—

You’ve gotten to seven again when you finally catch a glimpse of it. It’s barely much of anything, just a flicker of movement in your periphery. By that point, it’s already making its way towards you. The grass rustles furiously as it moves, tunneling its way into your full attention. You watch curiously as a head erupts out of the stalks.

It’s a cat.

The realization comes with a sting. Spitting a curse out, you drop the knife. The price of your distraction bubbles to the surface of your finger, bright red and angry. A few drops of it speckle the orange slices you’ve been cutting.

Out the window, the cat is still watching you.

A thought flashes wryly in your mind. If you’re trying to make a habit out of injuring yourself, you might want to schedule it around the ferries. You imagine it coming from the cat, doused in unimpressed feline judgment.

Rinsing your hand off under the tap, you inspect the damage. It’s nothing to be worried about—just a shallow cut—but those were the ones that bled the most. Even now, you could see a fresh bead of red blooming on your skin.

Popping one of the tarnished oranges in your mouth, you head to the bathroom to fish in the medicine cabinet. The bandages you have aren’t big enough for the gash, but you lay one on top of it anyway, smoothing the edges out.

You’ll be more careful next time.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6—

It makes sense that your favorite is what throws off the count. Seven was a good number. The best number, really. Lucky.

You’d chosen to move on the seventh month of the year, seven years into a job that was only as good as it was good enough. You’d been fine. Managing. Navigating adulthood seemed to amount to nothing more than days spent playing connect-the-dots between headaches, shaking ibuprofen into your palm.

Throughout it all, seven had been there, tucked into addresses, stamped onto licensed plates—seemingly assigned to you in particular.

In this sea of banality, there was a small thrill to the idea of something that existed solely for you.

Overhead, the sky is an icy blue, darted through by clouds that look like wrung out dishtowels. Making your way down the front steps, your bag thumps dully against your thigh.

You’re thinking in numbers again. Counting steps, doors.

Salt hangs in air, blasted back against the faded paint of the buildings. Husks of them sit like dried-out cicada shells, brittle and abandoned. With no one to fill them, they seem to blur into the backdrop of the island—stationary outcroppings of the land, just as still as the boulders along the beach.

Here and there, whispers of chimney smoke curl into the air. They were stubborn declarations of life—made by equally stubborn people. Each came from families that felt as old as the ground under your feet, generations on generations whittled down over time. Their faded American flags jut out from front porches, battered folding chairs sitting in overgrown yards. They were here to stay, for better or for worse.

You shiver. There’s an unmistakable chill present in the air, making you regret leaving your gloves at the house. The wind stings your face as you turn the corner. It’s cold out here and it’s only to grow colder still. You wonder if you’ll ever get used to it. You hope you will. After all, this was home now.

For-ever, for-now? You weren’t quite sure yet.

Months into your assumed ownership of the house, unpacked boxes still sit in your living room. Your walls are still bare. The wind chimes you bought are languishing in a plastic bag under the sink. It’s hardly much of a home, but you’ll get to it, you will. That line of thinking works for a bit, but promises of tomorrow have the habit of extending into the next week, and then the week after that. Now, it all just felt like a vague hint of eventually, bookended with maybe.

You weren’t sure why you’d thought that moving here would imbue you with some great sense of motivation. The whole place seemed antithetical to that sort of thing. Things just moved slower out here. It was difficult to feel rushed. Whatever urgency Crockett might have had was just as weatherbeaten and tired as the houses that lined the road. You look at them as you walk, balling your hands into fists and shoving them into your coat pockets.

There are small victories, though, you remind yourself. Minor progress. Finally having run out of clean clothes, you’ve had to give up living out of your suitcase. Your hand was forced, of course, but it was something.

You change direction, stepping off the path.

Down at the edge of the shore, someone is walking slowly along the water.

Your eyes alight on a large piece of driftwood, bleached bone white on the sand. You’d claimed it as your own a few weeks in—easy to do on a beach as lonesome as this one. Sitting down, you pull out your book, giving the cover a cursory glance before opening it. It’s the same one you’ve been starting-stopping-starting again the entire time you’ve been here.

You’re a few paragraphs in, fingertips starting to numb in the cold, when the distraction hits. The words feel tired, on this, your thousandth time attempting to read them. Your eyes slip down the page, scrambling the letters into a cluttered mass of black scribbles.

Twisting your head away from the incomprehensible blur, you find yourself staring at a beached boat. It sits lopsided on a tangle of long yellow reeds, windows coated with a thick sheen of sand. A bent fishing cage sits on its bow, sea grass collecting under it. Despite the debris, it’s difficult to gauge just how long it might have been marooned for. After all, everything eventually ended up looking like that out here.

You can just about make out a number painted on the side of the hull, faded and dull.

7.

“Pardon me, young lady.” Startled out of your thoughts, you look up. An elderly man stands in front of you, clutching his hat in his hands. He’s the one you saw down by the water when you arrived.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” The breeze upsets his hair, whipping white strands of it around his head. “I hope you’ll give grace to a very old man if he’s incorrect.”

You came here for isolation and you’re finding anything but. People seek you out, they want to know you—or rather, know of you. Where you’re from, how long you’re planning on staying. Why you chose this place, out of all the places.

“No, you’re right.” You give him a polite smile, closing your book. “I just moved here.”

“May I?” He gestures at the space on the log next to you.

“Absolutely.”

You watch with anticipatory concern as he slowly shuffles forward. He lists to the right, carefully bracing his hand on the wood. With a groan, he finally lowers himself down beside you.

“Would you do me the privilege of telling me your name?” he asks. “Young lady of whom I’ve never met?”

You tell him and he gives a decided tut, as if he’s committing it to memory.

“What’s yours?” you ask.

He seems to consider the question deeply, his brow creasing in concentration. Letting out a breath, he drums his fingers absently on his knee.

“John,” he finally says. “There’s a whole lot of—” he gestures vaguely out in front of him, his mouth pulling into an unimpressed frown. “—hoopla after the John. Before the John, too. But you know, I, uh, I can’t be bothered with all that today. Today, well…” his words trail off. “Today I’d very much like to be John. Just John.”

“You’ve got it, Just John.”

“A young lady with a sense of humor,” he chuckles. You follow his gaze as it drifts back to the ocean. Gulls dip and dart in the air above the waves, barely more than specks of white in the distance. “Now that’s something quite special.”

The silence that settles around both of you is a tranquil one, full of the rush of waves and the chirps of bird song. He’s very still beside you, staring out at the water. The moment hangs, extends. He blinks slowly, mumbling something under his breath. You almost feel as if he’s forgotten you’re there.

You wait. Eventually, you lower your eyes, flipping your book open. You manage to get to the end of the chapter before he speaks again.

“I must confess, I did have ulterior motives for coming out here today,” he says conversationally, as if no time has passed. “If I’m to be perfectly frank, young lady, I’m quite the suspicious character.”

“Is that true?” You look over at him, raising your brows.

“Oh, yes,” he replies brightly. Lowering his voice, his tone takes on a playfully conspiratorial edge. “I’m on the run today, actually.”

“From the law?” You smile.

“Sometimes it does feel like that,” he sighs. “No. My pursuers are, um, very kind people. Quite well-meaning.”

“So why’d you run?” You stuff the book back into your bag.

“They try to stop me from taking my walks.” He shakes his head. “But I won’t. Not on days like this. Not while I’m…here. I’ve been having less of these, truth be told.”

You watch his face.

“That’s a secret, by the way,” he says softly. “I shouldn’t have those, but I do.”

“I feel like everyone does.”

John hums out a noncommittal noise, shifting beside you on the log. Fishing in the pocket of his coat, he pulls out a small metal tin. You glance over at it as he cracks the lid open. It’s filled with an assortment of chalky-looking candy. Selecting a peppermint from the top, he raises it slowly to his lips.

“Don’t get old,” he says, extending the tin towards you. His hand trembles a bit with the effort. “Live as long as you can, but don’t get old.”

“I’ll try my best.” You nod, plucking out a piece of bright yellow candy.

“Very good.” He smiles gently over at you. “Enjoy.”

You pop the candy into your mouth as he snaps the tin shut. It’s lemon, sugary and just a touch stale. The taste is a nostalgic one. It slots in perfectly with everything else about him, ubiquitously grandfatherly.

“Thanks, John.”

“See, John sounds right, doesn’t it?” He exhales deeply, turning back to the ocean. “You’re very welcome.”

You return home. You count and then recount. You think about secrets and count them too. You’re not sure if you have seven anymore.

For all intents and purposes, you had disappeared. You were fairly professional at it. People cared initially, but the longer the gulf grew, the less they did. It was a blameless thing.

You always had a foot out the door of your own life. Self-sabotage and self-preservation were things you fumbled for in the dark. You always grabbed the wrong one, but you never noticed until it was too late.

Another blameless thing. They felt the same at first.

You imagined the lives you had vanished out of as gulls, bobbing at the surface of the water. They barely flew, those birds—just opened up their wings and let themselves be caught by the wind. It was the only sensible thing to do in response to something so inescapable.

You unlatch the window and crack it open. You breathe, you think, you count.

It was possible that the people you’d known weren’t the gulls at all. Maybe that was just you, a resident of nowhere in particular. Living in moments you’d just happened to end up in, ambivalent to a future that might exist past your next meal. It was an unfortunate thought.

Or maybe you aren’t any of those things. The thought came in a flat, unimpressed voice—the one you’d imagined for the cat outside your window. It’s gone now, but you can still picture those eyes. Amber, wide and unblinking.

It was correct, of course. You weren’t the parasitic maw in the shape of a bird, nor the wind that carried it. You couldn’t be. It was a hollow triumph to know that you were just a person and had always been one.

If you were anything, you wish you were the ocean. Impartial and vast and beautiful. Since you weren’t, you settle for filling your lungs with the salt of her exhale.

Read the rest on AO3 here!

[threepandas]

Bad End: Out In The Cold

"What's this? A cold little mouse in my castle?"

Thick hair that wasn't mine spilled over my shoulder. As a familiar hand, warm and calloused, wrapped itself around my throat. I hadn't realized how cold the room had gotten, until her hand was there, skin warm against my skin. It had taken a while to get used to this.

I was grateful, in a way. For the the day she had done more then just scoff at my scarf. Telling me I would freeze. The way she had gotten worried. Pulled off her gloves, grumbling all the while, too fuss over me like some great mother bear. Hands warm but gentle, as the tucked themselves around my throat. Too better warm my blood, she had said.

It had been like a dam breaking.

And honestly? She WAS right. It was warm.

Now, whenever she so much as SUSPECTED I was cold? Her hand would sneak out to press against my pulse. Though, half the time, I suspected it was an excuse. She'd not had many chances for closeness in her life, I suspect. Calysta was the... ah, it was hard to translate, but... the CLOSEST translation? Was something like "Child of The Mountain Gods".

Or was it "Child of the Mountains AND the Gods"?

I was supposed to be writing a treatise on the subject. Gods knows no one ELSE would. Cowards. Bigots too. "Nothing but savages" my silk clad ASS. And they dare call themselves academics!? Ha! HA, I say! Both my professors and I would SPIT! (If it weren't WILDLY rude. I never COULD master that skill. I did try.)

Unfortunately, my professors, were too old to make the journey this far North. It hadn't stopped them from TRYING, when we had finally gotten permission. But... well. They barely made it too Wuntersgreen before the strain and cold became too much. They cried.

As the youngest? I was loaded down with their notes, questions, hopes and dreams, and sent on ahead. No one was impressed by me. The scrawny academic with her soft, soft hands. Never a day's fight in her. Didn't know how to do "anything". But? That had given their word to host me. So they did.

It's been AMAZING.

And I like to think I'm getting better!

Adapting. Learning how to do things and help around the castle. I even helped start a fire for the fireplace the other day! Before THAT? I learned how to set hunting traps... rather badly. I have yet to catch anything. But still! Progress, is it not?

Where was I? Ah, yes.

Calysta. Her rank is something between a Warlord and a King, as far as I can tell? It holds the respected sovereignty of a ruling monarch yet? Can be seized. Should she grow "weak". Is not NECESSARILY passed too one's children. They, presumably, have an ADVANTAGE... but? It goes too "the Chosen child of..." that word I'm still having some difficulty getting a good translation off.

And if I remember correctly, Calysta's brother's did NOT appreciate that. As they had been favored by her father. Showered with praise most of their lives. One of them ASSUMED to be the next leader.

They challenged her.

Did not back down.

Now? Now she has neither Father nor brothers. Not that it seems she had much of either to begin with. Frankly? I am GLAD she won. She is good for the North. Strong, steady, highly tactical. A wry wit. And a FEIRCE love for her people and culture. NO ONE will take it from her. Destroy these beautiful peoples.

I'm tugged back lightly, away from my desk to sit up properly against the back of my chair. The hand on my neck shifting softly, ever so slightly up, to cup the underside of my jaw. Tilting my head up so I can not see my work but must instead meet the eyes of my dear friend.

"Enough, little mouse." There is a fondness to the edge of her mouth, she is not one for great grins and wild expressions. It has taken me months to learn how to read her so well. "Your papers will still be there AFTER you warm up. Should be easier to right, don't you think, when you can actually feel your fingers again?"

I huff a laugh.

Honestly... where would I be with out her? Frozen to death, probably. I get entirely to fixated on my work. Food, drink, keeping the fire running. I notice none of it. Probably shrivel up and die. The fact she even takes the time to check on me? Dispite being as important as she is? Let NO ONE say Calysta does not CARE. She is a good person.

My legs feel numb and prickly, stiff, in that distinctly asleep and too cold sort of way, as I try to stand. Calysta has to wrap her arm around my waste and let me lean against her. She feels almost too hot against me. Another sure sign I have, indeed, allowed myself to get too cold. Oh dear.

With an exasperated snort, once it becomes clear my legs will probably not be recovering fast enough for her liking, Calysta decides she will speed things along. My legs are swept out from under me effortlessly. I don't even squeek anymore, this has happened so often. But I USED too.

It is how I became "mouse".

Now I just allow Calysta her way. She'll put me down when she wants to put me down. And honestly? It's kinda fun to be carried like a child. I feel tall. Weightless and somewhat decadent, it makes my heart beat a faster. And on somedays? All I want to do is go boneless. Allow myself to be HELD. Not that I'll ever tell. So Shhhhh, a secret to our graves, okay? It would make things awkward for her.

She strolls down the hall with me, too her office. No one so much as blinking an eye. We've become so common in our shenanigans, I imagine, it's become mundane. And... ah~ Calysta was RIGHT. I WAS cold. The fireplace in her office is full with logs burning away merrily. The windows we passed in the hall showed snow. It seems the storm's finally hit..

Instead of putting me down, Calysta heads for the couch. Turning and with a huff, flopping down, making both of us bounce a bit. Leaning back with me less in her arms now, so much as in her lap. The room is quiet. Hushed almost. The crackle of fire, the distant howl of wind, far away chatter of life, elsewhere in the castle.

Calysta has leaned back against the back of her office's couch. Head rested against the fur blanket draped against the back of it. The fur mixes with her riotous man of hair to create almost a halo, lit in golds by the fire's light. Her eyes are closed as she takes her moment. The fire light makes her face softer.

But never soft.

No force in all the world could make Calysta anything but the Queen she is. Dangerous and powerful. First into battle and last to leave. She is breath taking in the way all deadly things are, I think. Like blades and poison held up to the light. Predators and fires that burn.

"You're staring, little mouse." She says, voice nearly a whisper in the softness of the room. It is a rumble like mountains and the sweet call of dangerous things. She's always had such a commanding voice. I envy it. "Is my face so entrancing?"

She's smirking. Teasing me. I laugh and rest my head against her shoulder. Let myself drift as the chill in my bones fades away. The arm loosely around my waist to keep me from falling off, has taken to lightly stroking my back. Almost absent-mindedly. Occasionally, fingers playing with the ends of my hair.

A servant has come-by. Removed our shoes for us. Brought Calysta missives and responses. General updates. She shifts us. Tucking me against her as she lays down, tucking me between her body and the couch. Fuzzy blanket over me, arm wrapped around me. I... I feel boneless.

Safe.

Everything warm and quiet and far away.

Trusting, I doze off. Cuddling close and utterly content.

Calysta presses a kiss to the crown of my sleeping head. Let's her hand roam, just a bit, simply to feel the perfect way her little mouse fits right up against her. She was MADE for her. Born to be here. Still... she has to be... be GENTLE. Soft.

It's hard. She hasn't had much practice in that.

But good things are worth the struggle for them. True love is WORTH the time, the effort, to learn how the South romance. Figuring out how to woo her lil mouse as she deserves. Making sure she never leaves.

Speaking off...

She diges out the ridiculous fancy paper envelope at the bottom of the stack. Hidden, as per her instructions, so her little Mouse wouldn't see it. Another one, it seems, from that damn "House" of hers. Southern Clans were pretty damn presumptuous, weren't they? Had some fucking gall.

What did THIS one say?

Let's she... "come back at once" blah blah blah "how dare you ignore all our letters" blah blah "you WILL honor the engagement we've found for you, or ELSE" oh? Threats now, huh? Ah~? "Keep ignoring our letters and you'll be cast from House-" well, well~!

That's convenient.

One flick of the wrist, and the letter is in the fireplace. Burning away. Just like all before it. Oops. How difficult it is, to get news from the South. Her little mouse really SHOULD just forget about them. THIS is her home now. THEY are her people.

Her girl doesn't need anyone else.

"Don't worry, little love. I won't leave you out in the cold. You're gonna stay with me. Forever. I Promise."

[sanctuary1988]

Les Petals D'Amour

| Gwi | Masterpost

Pairing: Gwi (the scholar who walks the night) x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

General Warnings: fluff, angst, blood, biting, general vampire stuff, secrets, obsession, twisted retail of beauty and the beast, death, character death, typical period misogyny, DARK ROMANCE, spiciness, love?, (specific warnings will be given in each chapter)

Total Word Count: in process

A/N: Welcome to my first fic on this new blog, darling! I finished watching TSWWTN like a month ago and I have officially fallen in love. I took one of the scenes to start this story that could serve as a prequel of the drama from Gwi's perspective. Like a backstory for him that we were denied on the show.

I really hope you will like it, loves. Please share your thoughts with me and feel free to ask me anything! From extra scenes for this story to what's the last thing I ate, I'd love to interact with you all!

*A/N: This story will be updated when I have the time to write, darlings. I'll do my best to keep it alive and ongoing but I have a lot on my plate right now. I'm doing this mostly for myself as I need some space to vent and create without pressure. This blog is a safe space for anyone and that obviously includes me. So please be patient when it comes to updates! I'm giving my all trying to balance my life with all the responsibilities I, myself, put over my already busy life. But be for sure that this story will be finished... someday.

**A/N: Darling, please mind the warnings on this post and on each chapter. I'm still pondering on whether I should include smut here or not as I personally think there should be a solid reason why there must be a spicy scene in a story but aside from that, this story will have some pretty dark contents and behaviours. Disturbing scenes may appear throughout the story and I am not responsible for your media consumption. Please, be careful, love.

~ Main Work

Chapter 1 | Handsome Stranger |2.3k words|

Chapter 2 | Owned Flower |2.4k words|

Chapter 3 | Caged Petal |2k words|

Chapter 4 | Silver Innocence |2.5k words|

Chapter 5 | Subtle Conscience |2.5k words|

Chapter 6 | A Flower For A Flower |4.2k words|

Chapter 7 | Reborn Petals Of Emotion |4k words|

Chapter 8 | Veil Of Temptation |4.5k words|

Chapter 9 | Fate's Cruel Hand |5.1 words|

Chapter 10 | The Heart Of The Poet |3.4 words|

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𖹭 Interlude pt.1 |1.4k words|

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Chapter 11 | The Moon That Embraces The Sun |4.6k words|

Chapter 12 | Melodic Promises |5.5k words|

Chapter 13 | The Silence Of Solitude |3.2k words|

Chapter 14 | Stolen Rose Of A Promise |4k words|

Chapter 15 | Flames Of Passion |4.5k words|

────────────────────────────────────────────

𖹭 Interlude pt. 2 |2.2k words|

────────────────────────────────────────────

Chapter 16 | Secret Of Darkness |3.4k words|

Chapter 17 | The Age Of Romance |3k words|

Chapter 18 | Echoes Of Eternity |4.2k words|

Chapter 19 | The Enemy's Lover |5.4k words|

Chapter 20 | The Price Of Love pt. 1 |3k words|

────────────────────────────────────────────

Interlude pt. 3 |1.8k words|

────────────────────────────────────────────

Chapter 21 | A Thousand Miles Apart |3.3k words|

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

???

~ Side Content...

Moodboard

The Playlist 🫶

Started: January/28/2024 Finished: ???

[cathedral-of-sinners]

alhaitham’s cock

[synthetickitsune]

Hello! I don't know if your requests are still open, but if they aren't just ignore this. May I request some romantic, fluffy & emotional content for Gwi (Scholar Who Walks The Night) with a human s/o who loves him deeply and is always gentle, caring and kind towards him? Like she genuinely respects him, and treats him with so much love? Cause look, I have theories about Gwi and affection. Namely that he was always treated like a beast and basically betrayed by his loves. But I think he is both touch starved and affection starved. Legit I feel like he'd melt for someone who gives him their heart sincerely, and sees him as a wise ancient being worthy of respect, rather than a monster to be destroyed.

PLEASE i could go on and on about my takes on gwi and affection and everything, he literally deserves so much more than he got </3 tbh i definitely will write more about this prompt because i want to give him at least some sort of happiness

Gwi (Scholar Who Walks the Night) | Affection fluff | 1k | (kind of implied) f!reader

Their voices join the water and blood dripping in the expanse of the cave, so do their faces, all of them just the background. If you were told they’re only another rock growth in the underground palace, you’d accept it without a second thought. So insignificant they were. Maybe not for the palace, for the grand scheme of things, but it’s always been easy to detach yourself from the world.

You’re not really looking at them, perhaps through them would be a better word. But when he speaks, your eyes surely find his profile and you pay attention. Most of what he says is mocking the humans standing before his throne. He’s sneering at them, taunting them. They can’t do anything about it. They can’t do anything to him. Everyone in the room knows it. So they come after the obvious easy prey.

“Gwi, isn’t it about time you got rid of the toy?” you know without looking at them that the official speaking is pointing at you. You’ve heard them mutter about him playing with his food before. And if you heard, he heard too.

“What toy?” the vampire asks, and you know that to them his voice is nothing but amused. But you don’t need his enhanced hearing to take precaution. When the backs of his fingers brush against your cheek, it must look to them like you’re motionless. You lean your body towards him just enough that he takes notice of your weight shifting on his lap. Just leaning into his touch isn’t enough. He’s a creature that deserves more respect than that. “Which one should I get rid of?”

If he only could look at both you and the subject before him, you know he would. Jealousy was never your strong suit. Even less so in the face of Gwi. Sometimes you’d get the feeling he doesn’t appreciate that. Other times you think he seems relieved. Either way, he was not for you, or any human, anyone, to own. You keep your eyes on him. The officials are predictable enough, all of them plotting, trying to figure out how to get their daughters involved, how to get closer to power. 

They sputter and back down as they always do. Trying their most to stay in Gwi’s good graces while crossing every boundary clearly set. It’s pathetic. And the vampire is as predictable as them, so you don’t flinch at all when the gentle caress turns into a death grip on your jaw while his fangs bury into the flesh of your neck.

They run away. Of course they do after the vampire’s mocking. They take it as a threat to their family, so you don’t blame them for closing their eyes and turning their back. It is a threat. Not a fully empty one either. But the officials and their petty palace drama and power struggle are irrelevant and definitely not the thing your mind wants to focus on as it grows fuzzy. Your body is getting weaker but you don’t panic. You hear your heart in your ears and it’s beating steadily.

“Your blood tastes so sweet,” his voice graces your ears, his bloodied lips gently pressing against your cheek not a second later, leaving a mark, “I never tasted anything like it. Is it because you’re not scared of me?”

It’s not the first time Gwi wonders aloud about your blood. Perhaps that truly is the reason, maybe panic ruins the blood, just like when hunters try to catch their prey unaware. It wasn’t always like this, and you entertain the thought of your will and desire overrunning even your instincts and biology. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, so you can’t respond and he doesn’t force you to. Instead he guides your head to rest against his shoulder, allows your body to lean on his.

You feel a sense of guilt for being so weak. You wish he could feed from you all the time, drink your blood until he’s sated. He’s tried that in the past. He kept feeding from you day after day - as a desert, he’d claim - kept feeding from you right until you were on the verge of death. The doctors barely saved you. You never asked how did it happen that you were nursed back to health. Then again, did you need to? It was about that time that you started noticing that the officials despised you.

“Should I get rid of you?” he muses, and yet his arm is wrapped around you so tenderly it’d make you sleepy with comfort if it wasn’t for your desire to listen to him, “Should I set you free?”

You don’t think he’s playing with you, but then again Gwi is unpredictable at the best of times. Either way, it’s all the same to you. Your answer would always be the same.

“I’d worship you still,” you whisper, gathering your strength only to be shushed by the vampire holding you. There’s a smirk on his lips. Proud. But it softens. He knows. He knows. And maybe that’s why you get to be held by him.

“Worship is not a word many would use,” he sounds amused, and you enjoy how freely he converses with you. Not too long ago he’d be much more guarded. He’d snarl at you, make you feel like he’ll attack any moment. It’s a little surprising he allowed you to stay alive. You meet his eyes with a questioning look that he answers with a curious smile before he shakes his head. So you stay quiet.

He picks you up and carries you to the space he made for you, where your bed is hidden away from sight. You know once you wake up there will be a meal waiting for you to get your energy back. He lays you down and covers you with a blanket. He strokes your hair, reassuring you that you’re allowed to rest now. 

And so you slowly, obediently, fall asleep.

[the-readers-archive]

“Your room is a reflection of your mind”

Chaos, heartbreak, and literature haunt my restless mind…

[buzzybee3]

I was just given the most beautiful of ideas

Now let’s just hope I can follow through….