#slowly but surely I'm making my way through Transformers content

[the-nasti-files]

Even Like This

Werewolf bf x Fem!Reader - word count - 8,191 No use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader

I've decided to write more Grady and his sunshine. I am going to start a little masterlist just for Grady Here. You can also find my full masterlist Here.

Its hard when the shifting is forced by the moon. But you're right by his side every time. Tonight, your usually excitable wolf is excited about you instead.

Grady huffed as he dropped onto the couch beside you, the whole thing shifting under his weight. A low groan escaped him as he settled, his scruffy cheek brushing the top of your head with an affectionate scratch.

“I'm so not ready for tonight,” he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand like a sulky teenager who hadn’t slept.

You smiled softly. You knew why.

Transforming hurt—plain and simple. Even if he never said it outright, you could see it in his posture, in the way his hands would tremble just before the shift started, in the way he ached after. And afterward? He was a menace. A car-sized wolf with the energy of an untrained golden retriever and the judgment of a wet sock. The last time he’d shifted, he spent hours splashing through the creek like a child, barking at fish and trying to catch them with giant clumsy paws.

“No being mean this time,” he grumbled, dragging his voice like gravel. “S’not funny when you pretend to throw the ball.”

A laugh slipped from you before you could hold it back. He could complain all he wanted, but you knew he secretly loved the way you giggled at him. The way you looked at him like he was something to be adored—even when he was soaking wet, covered in mud, and howling at frogs.

“But it is funny when you get all huffy about it,” you teased, turning your head to nuzzle against his chest. One hand reached up to rake gently through his shaggy hair. “And you’re so big. Like a puppy trying to cannonball in a birdbath.”

Grady let out a dramatic sigh like you were torturing him, but his head tilted into your lap anyway, heavy and warm. He stretched out like a spoiled housecat, completely ignoring his own complaints.

“M’not a puppy,” he muttered.

You smiled and let your fingers slide deeper into his hair, giving a gentle tug near the roots. “You’re my sweet little puppy,” you whispered, all saccharine and smug.

His response was a wordless grunt—playful and gruff. He shifted slightly, angling his face toward your thigh, eyes fluttering shut while your nails scratched his scalp.

“M’not little,” he huffed again. “M’six foot six. And m’strong.”

The pout on his face was so comical, so impossibly cute, that you had to bite your lip. His bottom lip pushed out, scrunching adorably as his cheek mashed against your leg. You could practically hear the exaggerated cartoon sound of mmpfh in your head.

“And I’m not yours,” he added suddenly, with just enough petulance to make it clear he knew exactly how ridiculous he sounded.

You raised a brow, smirking down at him. “Oh? Not mine?” You let the words drip slowly from your tongue. “You sure about that?”

Grady cracked one eye open to glare at you, the expression ruined by the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was trying to keep up the act, but he was failing—badly.

“Shut up,” he mumbled, burying his face further into your thighs with a grumble that was more fond than irritated. “M’just in the mood for attention, is all.”

“I know, baby,” you murmured, softening immediately. Your fingers returned to his hair, slow and comforting, while your other hand rested in his grasp. He took it without asking, calloused fingers fiddling with yours like a nervous habit.

Grady exhaled a low, contented hum as you carded your fingers through his thick hair. You felt the tension melt from his shoulders, his weight growing heavier against your body like he could sink into you entirely.

His thumb brushed lazy circles against your palm, his touch gentle in a way that always surprised you. For someone built like a tank, he handled you like spun sugar.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, voice low and muffled against your lap. “M’so damn clingy lately.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, thumb brushing along the edge of his ear. “It probably doesn’t help that I’m ovulating,” you said, only half joking. “You always get extra cuddly when I’m like this.”

He chuckled, and the sound vibrated against your thighs. His nose dipped lower, brushing against your stomach as he inhaled deeply. The change was subtle but immediate—his body tensed slightly, something more primal flickering behind his eyes when he looked up at you again.

“Damn,” he rasped. “You’re right. I can smell it on you.”

Your breath caught as he shifted, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you even closer. He inhaled again, slower this time, and the look in his eyes went from soft to something darker, heavier.

“S’like a damn magnet,” he growled, voice husky now. “Can’t… help being close. Need to feel you.”

Heat bloomed low in your belly as his hands slid over your curves, broad palms claiming every inch of you like you belonged to him. His lips brushed your jaw, the warmth of his breath making you shiver.

“Need to touch you,” he murmured, voice barely more than a growl now. “Need to… have you.”

His fingers traced the edge of your hipbone, rough callouses dragging sparks across your skin.

You swallowed hard, pulse fluttering beneath your skin. “You have to be ready to shift, Grady,” you whispered, even though your body was already arching into his touch. “We can’t be fooling around right now.”

He groaned, a deep, frustrated sound, and dropped his head back into your lap like he was suffering a mortal wound. You ran your fingers through his hair again to soothe him, ignoring the thrum of heat still pulsing between your legs.

“I know,” he mumbled. “I know… It’s just—you smell so damn good. And I can’t…” He groaned again. “It’s hard to focus on anything but you.”

His hands slid up your sides, claiming your waist again, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. Possessive. Hungry. So very wolf of him.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady. “One of us has to be responsible,” voice soft but firm as you try to control your breathing. “And right now, it needs to be me.”

You kissed the top of his head, trying not to melt under the weight of his affection. “C’mon. Why don’t we go outside? Get some air before the moon rises.”

He lifted his head slowly, fixing you with a look that was pure sulk. A low rumble escaped him—half groan, half growl.

“Fine,” he said eventually, clearly put out. He untangled himself from you with great reluctance and standing, stretching his arms above his head in a long, full-body sigh. “But I don’t have to be happy about it.”

You snorted and grabbed the nearest blanket and your phone, nudging open the back door. “What are you, five?”

“Six-foot-six!” he called after you with a grumble. “And very emotionally mature.”

You just rolled your eyes, stepping out into the soft twilight, knowing he’d follow you like a very loyal, very grumpy dog.

“’M not five,” Grady grumbles, trailing after you through the back door like an overgrown toddler being dragged to bed. His hands are shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, shoulders hunched in exaggerated sulkiness as he kicks a pebble with unnecessary force.

You don’t even try to hide your giggle. The sound bubbles up too easily as he stomps behind you like a very large, very pouty, very muscular little boy trying desperately not to look like one.

Outside, the evening air is soft and thick with the scent of spring—fresh grass, blooming lilacs, and the distant promise of rain. Fireflies have already started blinking lazily near the treeline, and the sky is painted in streaks of gold and lavender.

You unfurl the blanket onto the grass, smoothing it out with practiced motions. “The little pouty lip says otherwise,” you tease over your shoulder.

Grady flops down beside you like a felled oak tree, limbs sprawling everywhere. His face contorts into an even more dramatic pout as he crosses his arms tightly over his chest, glaring at the sky like it personally offended him.

“Shut up,” he huffs, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him. He knows he looks ridiculous. He just doesn’t care enough to stop.

Despite his theatrics, his eyes track your every move while you adjust the edges of the blanket, the weight of his gaze dragging warm across your skin. There’s something different in the way he’s watching you—less petulance, more hunger. A quiet want simmering behind all that bluster.

Once you're settled, he sighs—loud and dramatic—as he flops fully onto his back, arms stretched wide, legs splayed like he’s trying to cover as much territory as possible. It’s utterly unnecessary and completely endearing.

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, his voice heavy with faux betrayal.

“I am, you goose.”

“’M not a goose,” he grumbles, sticking his bottom lip out like a sulking kid. He still hasn’t moved. He’s absolutely committed to the sprawl. “And you’re mean.”

The pout deepens. You can’t decide if he’s more ridiculous or more adorable.

But then his body twitches, barely perceptible but real, and the lightness fades a little.

Your teasing halts as your brow furrows. “You hurting already?”

His smug little act falters, and the air around him shifts—like something heavier just settled on his shoulders. His eyes flick toward you, the mischief gone.

“Yeah,” he admits softly, teeth clenched as he tries to stretch, only to wince. “It… it’s starting.”

He tries to brush it off, tries to flash you that cocky, crooked smile that usually melts your resolve. But it falters too quickly, his body trembling slightly beneath it. There’s tension in the line of his jaw, in the way his fingers curl into the blanket like he’s bracing himself.

“M’fine,” he insists, even as another tremor rolls through him. You see the way his breath stutters, how his shoulders hunch like he’s trying to protect himself from the inevitable.

You shift closer without hesitation, smoothing a hand through his hair and brushing the sweat-damp fringe back from his forehead. “I’m right here,” you whisper, your voice low, steady. Anchoring.

Grady swallows hard, closing his eyes beneath your touch. For a few seconds, you can see the tension ease—just slightly. He leans into you instinctively, as though your presence might hold the pain at bay.

“God, damnit,” he groans, voice rough with strain. “It always hurts. Fucking full moons…”

And then it hits harder—his back arches, body jerking as muscles seize, bones grinding audibly beneath his skin. His fists curl tighter into the blanket, knuckles white, and his teeth bare in a silent snarl.

You hate this part.

The forced shift always drags. Unlike the fluid, almost elegant change he can summon on his own, the full moon rips it from him inch by inch. There’s nothing gentle about it—just raw, brutal transformation.

Grady’s breaths come in quick, sharp bursts now. “Mmmph—fuck—”

You reach for his hand and squeeze, grounding him. He’s shaking, sweat beading at his temples, jaw locked tight as another wave crashes through him. His spine contorts, ribs creaking, the shift clawing through him mercilessly.

His body is growing before your eyes, bones stretching, skin pulling, fur starting to ripple along his arms and neck. He looks at you—eyes wild, pain-slicked and glassy. “M’sorry,” he gasps, voice barely human. “Hurts… so damn much…”

“Don’t apologize,” you say softly, but firmly. Your hand cups his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye. “You don’t have to say sorry. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

His jaw clenches as another sharp spasm rolls through him, and he lets out a guttural sound that makes your heart ache. Still, even through it, he nods—tiny, frantic, like he’s hanging on to your voice like a lifeline.

“Y’here,” he pants, words slurred. “I’m… I’m fine…”

But he’s not.

You can see it in every flicker of movement—the way his muscles writhe under his skin, the helpless arch of his spine, the low, pained sounds ripping free despite his efforts to bite them back.

A deep, guttural cry tears from his throat as another surge overtakes him.

You don’t flinch. Don’t move. You stay exactly where you are, fingers threading into his thickening fur, palm braced against his changing chest. You murmur to him between the sharp sounds of cracking bone and strangled groans—soft nonsense words, soothing nothings, promises that he’s not alone.

And even as the final wave starts to crest—his limbs lengthening, spine stretching into something no longer quite human—his eyes remain locked on yours.

The same eyes. Even through the pain. Even through the change.

And you stay.

You always stay.

The transformation is frenzied now—his body twisting, writhing, contorting in ways that make your chest ache just to watch. Bones shift with wet, sickening cracks; skin ripples and splits beneath the strain, shredding the last threads of his clothes. You can’t look away, even as you flinch with each spasm, each guttural sound that tears from his throat.

Grady’s voice is nearly gone, swallowed by gasps and groans. But through it all, his hand shoots out blindly, shaking, reaching. Searching for you.

“Don’t… don’t leave…” he chokes out, voice barely human, barely audible. His fingers clamp around yours in a crushing grip, trembling violently.

“I’m here,” you whisper, holding his hand tight, anchoring him as best you can. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His grip tightens almost painfully, and then you feel it—that final pulse of heat and magic as the last of his human frame dissolves. Muscles surge. Limbs expand. The shape of him grows impossibly large as the wolf takes over.

It’s done in seconds—but it feels like forever.

And then he’s there.

Massive. Towering. All pitch-black fur and broad shoulders, hulking muscle wrapped in velvet shadows. A wolf, but so much more than that. Primal. Fierce. Raw.

His chest heaves with labored breaths as he looms over you, his fur slick with sweat and half-shifted heat. Eyes gleam in the dusk light—green, unmistakably Grady. Still him, somewhere in there.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. The only sound is the rustle of grass beneath his heavy paws and the sharp rhythm of his breathing.

Then you rise slowly, reaching up with both hands, careful and deliberate. Your fingers brush along his broad snout, smoothing down the wild fur. “There you are, my love,” you murmur, voice barely more than a breath. “The hard part’s over.”

Grady lets out a low whuff, the sound deep and soft. He leans into your touch immediately, eyes slipping closed as you pet him. His whole massive frame relaxes into the contact, brushing up against you with the same needy affection he’d shown earlier—but everything about him now feels bigger, heavier, more intense.

He presses his head against your hip with a sigh that’s almost content, nearly human in its weight.

And then you feel it.

The shift in energy. Subtle at first. The way his nose twitches. The stiffening of his shoulders. The slow inhale he takes at your side, drawing in your scent deep into his lungs.

His brain clicks over. You feel the moment it happens.

The wolf is fully in control now.

Grady lifts his head and stares at you—no longer soft or playful. His eyes are sharp, present, but darker, more calculating. His body presses against you again, only this time with purpose.

His snout nuzzles at your stomach, then your hip, then higher, across your chest. Slow, deliberate drags of his nose over your body as he breathes you in.

He’s scent-marking you.

“Grady…” you say softly, your voice cautious but not frightened. “You okay?”

There’s no answer. Just a low, vibrating grunt and the sensation of his nose nudging firmly under the hem of your dress. It flutters upward from the force of it, cool air brushing your thighs as he shuffles closer, his face buried against you.

Your breath catches—half-laugh, half-shiver. “Baby, what is up with you?” you giggle, the sound breathless as his whiskers tickle your skin and hot breath bathes your inner thighs.

Grady doesn’t respond. He grumbles low in his chest, face disappearing beneath your dress as he pushes further. You stagger slightly, trying to brace yourself, but he’s insistent—nose and mouth brushing against your skin, warm and wet and deliberate.

He’s not being playful.

He’s claiming you.

A startled squeak escapes you as he suddenly surges forward, and you lose your balance, toppling backward onto your ass with a thud. Your dress rides up, bunched around your waist, and his enormous body follows you down, pressing close—covering you like a storm cloud.

“Grady!”

But he’s already there—head buried between your thighs, breath scorching, nose rooting deeper. You squirm as his snout presses intimately against the softest part of you, heat blooming wild and sharp under your skin.

He grunts again, almost frustrated, and the low growl that follows sends a tremor through you.

Your underwear is no barrier.

He licks up the fabric—once, slowly—then again, more firmly. The sound that rumbles in his chest is sharp, impatient, primal.

You let out a soft, startled sound—and that’s all it takes.

A sudden rip, the fabric tearing like wet paper in his teeth. You gasp, air rushing out of your lungs as the cool night kisses bare skin, and then his tongue is on you. Directly.

Rough. Hot. Insistent.

You cry out, hips jerking, and he growls—a deep, satisfied sound—as if that’s what he wanted. His tongue laps at you eagerly, hungry and unrelenting, burying his face in you like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

And maybe it is.

There’s nothing human in the way he moves now—no teasing, no hesitation. Just possession. Devotion. Instinct layered over devotion like wildfire.

He’s not letting up. He’s not giving space.

He’s claiming you. As his mate. As his.

You can barely breathe. Can barely think. His massive body is pressed over yours, his head buried between your thighs, his entire attention locked on tasting you, marking you, making sure every inch of you belongs to him.

And gods, part of you loves it.

The wildness. The need. The way even in this untamed form, it’s still Grady—still your mate—pouring every ounce of instinct into loving you the only way his wolf knows how.

You’re pinned.

Not by force, not really—but by the sheer weight of him. The heat radiating from his enormous body has your skin slick with sweat, your breath catching in short, needy gasps as his tongue drags another hot, slow stroke over your now-bare cunt.

Your thighs twitch against his broad shoulders. Useless. He’s nestled there like he was made for it, devouring you with single-minded hunger, his thick tongue lapping deep, slow, and filthy.

“Oh—fuck—Grady…”

Your voice is wrecked already, barely a whisper, but he grumbles in response, and the sound vibrates against your clit.

He likes that.

He does it again.

A rumbling growl rolls up from his chest as he presses his mouth flush against you, tongue flicking relentlessly over your soaked flesh like he can’t get enough—like he needs more. Needs you to drip, to soak, to be drenched in the scent of his name and the taste of his tongue.

Your hands bury in his thick fur, pulling, anchoring, begging, even though you’re not sure for what. More? Relief? Mercy?

He’s not giving you any of that.

He snuffles deeper between your thighs, rutting his nose shamelessly against your slick folds, inhaling like he’s trying to drown in you. His tongue flattens and slides up in a broad, possessive sweep, catching on your clit again—harder this time, with an eager little grunt that tells you exactly how feral he’s gone.

The wet sounds between your legs are obscene—slick and hungry and loud. You’re soaking, trembling, your hips jerking with every pass of his tongue, but it’s not enough. He’s not letting you fall. Not yet. He’s teasing the edge with maddening precision.

He’s playing with you like prey.

“Grady, baby—please—I can’t…”

You whimper, writhing, trying to close your legs—trying to open them. You don’t even know what your body wants anymore. You just know it’s too much. Too sharp. Too deep.

And still not enough.

He snarls against your core like he doesn’t like the whimper, doesn’t like the distance in your voice, and then he drags his tongue low, flattening it and shoving inside you.

Your whole body jerks.

“Gods— Grady!”

His tongue thrusts, long and thick and forceful, moving in slow, filthy strokes that make your vision white out. It’s not even about making you come—it’s about owning you. Filling you. Marking you from the inside out.

You claw at the blanket, dress bunched around your waist, thighs spread wide around the massive breadth of his shoulders. You’re completely exposed, entirely at his mercy—and he’s reveling in it.

He growls again, low and possessive, nosing up to your clit and flicking it ruthlessly while his tongue fucks into you deep and messy. His panting breath washes over your soaked skin, his tail thumping behind him in mindless rhythm.

And gods—you’re close.

So close it hurts.

“Please—please, I’m—Grady, I’m—”

Your body goes rigid as that knot of pressure coils tight, snapping all at once with a cry you don’t even recognize as your own.

Your orgasm hits like a wave, crashing through your limbs, your back arching off the blanket, thighs locking around his ears. You’re gasping, moaning, sobbing his name in broken pieces as your cunt spasms around nothing, desperate for more, desperate for him to never stop.

And he doesn’t.

He licks you through it, moaning into your soaked cunt like he’s drunk on you, like he can’t bear to stop. He slurps every drop of your release, tongue greedy, nose buried in your folds like he’s scenting his favorite meal—and you're giving it all to him.

You’re shaking, legs trembling, brain gone hazy as he finally draws back—just enough to breathe, just enough to look at you.

And those eyes…

Still green. Still his. But burning.

Feral.

Possessive.

Unrelenting.

He growls again, this time louder as his massive paw lands beside your head, his chest pressing up and over you. You see his hindquarters shift, his whole body angling around you, and then—

You feel it.

His cock.

Hot. Heavy. Throbbing.

Thick enough to make your breath catch, even before it presses against the mess he just made of you.

Still panting, still dazed, you blink up at him. “Grady…?”

He snarls softly—low and pleading. Not angry. Not rough. Just desperate.

He needs in. Now.

Needs to be inside you.

Needs to breed.

His cock drags against your soaked entrance—hot and slick and huge. You're already trembling from the orgasm he licked out of you, your cunt still fluttering, still leaking. And now this. Him.

His tip catches against your folds, and your breath stutters.

He’s… massive. Thick in a way that makes your mouth fall open, makes your body go still with anticipation and a sliver of fear. You can feel the blunt head of it nudging, already slick with precum, already throbbing.

“Grady…” you whisper, eyes wide, thighs still trembling. “You’re so—baby, I don’t know if—”

You don’t get the words out. He growls—low, guttural, needy—and shoves forward.

Not all the way. Not yet.

But enough.

Enough that your walls stretch wide, sucking in the thick, blunt head of his cock with a slick pop that makes your whole body jerk. You cry out, head thrown back against the grass as your cunt clamps down instinctively.

“F-fuck—Grady, slow down—”

He doesn’t understand “slow.” Not now. Not like this. Not when you’re slick and shaking and open beneath him, your scent flooding his nose, your heat wrapped around the very tip of him.

He draws back only to thrust deeper, forcing more of his thick cock inside, splitting you open with an almost brutal stretch. You claw at his fur, gasping, legs kicking around his waist.

“Too much—Grady—fuck—I can’t—”

He huffs hard against your throat, panting, his tongue dragging hot and messy along your skin as his hips roll again—grinding deeper, deeper, pushing more of that impossible length into you with every rutting thrust.

Your body’s struggling to take him. It’s too much—he’s too thick, too hard, the shape of him pressing against spots inside you that have never been touched this way before. Your cunt spasms around him, trying to pull him in, trying to keep him.

And he’s panting against your cheek now, nose nuzzling, whining like he can’t stand the gap between you.

“Need it,” you whimper, voice broken and hoarse. “Fuck, Grady—need you—fill me up—please, baby—”

That’s all he needed.

He snaps his hips forward, burying the rest of his cock inside you in one brutal, devastating thrust.

You scream.

It’s not pain—it’s too hot, too much, too good—your cunt stretched around him, stuffed full of thick, pulsing wolf cock. Your body clenches hard around the base, locking down like it’s trying to hold him in place.

And Grady loses it.

He starts thrusting—pistoning into you—hard, fast, relentless. You’re so wet now, slick pouring down your thighs, soaking his fur, making obscene wet noises every time his cock slams into your drenched pussy.

There’s no rhythm, no finesse. Just frenzied need. His hips snap forward over and over again, each thrust slamming into your cervix, making stars burst behind your eyes.

You’re crying out with every thrust now—loud, helpless, wrecked. You don’t care who hears. You don’t care about anything except the way he’s fucking you.

His teeth graze your throat. He noses at your jaw. He’s whining, panting, desperate—and you feel the moment he starts to swell.

The knot.

“Grady—Grady no—I can’t—”

You’re already too full. There’s no room. You’re stretched to your limit and then some—and still his cock pulses, flaring inside you, swelling at the base with every frantic thrust.

“Too much—too big—fuck—”

But he’s not listening. He can’t. His body’s doing what it was made to do—what every instinct in his feral mind is screaming for:

Breed.

He thrusts a few more times, sharp and fast, grinding his thick cock deeper into your cunt—and then with a sudden, feral growl, he locks into place.

You feel the knot snap into you, stretching you even wider, locking the two of you together with a wet, aching pop that makes your whole body seize.

You cry out—half sob, half moan—as he grinds against you, cock pulsing violently inside your womb.

And then he comes.

It’s relentless.

Hot jets of cum flood your pussy, thick and heavy, flooding your insides with warmth. There’s so much—more than your body can handle—more than should even fit. You can feel it pouring into you in thick pulses, and the knot keeps every drop inside.

You’re shaking, legs locked around his waist, your belly already aching with fullness. Your walls flutter around him, clenching and sucking, and it won’t stop—he keeps cumming, keeps growling into your neck, keeps huffing with those deep, desperate noises like he needs to get every last drop inside you.

“Oh gods,” you gasp, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Grady—fuck—there’s so much—so much—”

You can feel it now—his cum bloating your belly slightly, your womb full and aching, and your cunt still fluttering around him, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

And he hasn’t even moved.

You shudder violently when he finally nudges his hips, testing the tie—and it sends another orgasm crashing through you.

You choke on a sob, your pussy milking his cock as another wave rolls through you—harder than the first.

You’re shaking uncontrollably now, nails digging into his fur, legs twitching around him.

“Grady—please—too much—I can’t—can’t breathe—”

He doesn’t pull out.

He can’t.

He’s knotted inside you, body locked to yours, cock still twitching, still leaking inside your swollen cunt.

And worst of all?

You feel it starting again.

His hips twitch. His growl deepens.

He’s not finished.

He’s going to breed you again.

You’re still twitching beneath him, cunt pulsing weakly around his knot, body wrecked and boneless. But he hasn’t moved—not really.

Grady’s still in you.

Still locked inside you.

And you can feel him getting hard again.

Your heart stutters. “No—baby, please—you just—”

You squirm, but the knot keeps you stretched, locked wide around the thickest part of him, your walls gripping tight with nowhere to run. There’s so much cum inside you—hot and heavy and endless—and it’s not stopping. Not when he’s still so deep, still so full, and already swelling again.

His cock twitches inside you, knot throbbing as it swells a little more. A broken moan slips past your lips, your fingers digging into his thick ruff, clinging as your body trembles beneath the sheer pressure.

“Grady,” you whimper. “I can’t—baby, I can’t—”

He growls again, lower now, darker, and it vibrates right through your chest. His teeth graze your neck, not biting—not yet—but the meaning is clear.

Mine.

Your body jerks with a soft cry as his hips start to move again—not thrusting, not yet—but slow, deep grinds, dragging his thick cock against your sensitive, cum-slick walls. The knot tugs with every movement, sending a bolt of pressure through your lower belly.

And gods—you feel it.

Your stomach is tight. Swollen. Stuffed full with his seed, and it’s not enough for him. He wants more.

Wants to breed you until it takes.

He snuffles at your throat, nipping and licking as his hips grind again and you feel his cock throb, leaking fresh, hot spurts inside your womb. The pressure in your belly builds higher, the stretch at your entrance obscene.

And then he thrusts.

It’s shallow, only a few inches—he can’t pull out—but even that tiny movement punches the air from your lungs.

You sob, back arching as your clit grinds against the base of his knot. The friction makes your whole body spasm, sparks of white-hot sensation ripping down your spine.

Another orgasm hits without warning, crashing through your nerves like lightning. You scream his name, legs jerking, toes curling, cunt fluttering helplessly around the locked, massive cock still fucking deep inside you.

Grady groans, nose buried against your throat as he starts thrusting again—short, fast, brutal little pumps, knot tugging, pushing, dragging.

Claiming.

You can hear the slick noises now—wet and obscene, the sound of your body being used, of cum squelching from around the base of his knot every time he ruts into your swollen cunt.

You’re crying—actually crying—tears streaking hot down your cheeks, not from pain, not even from pleasure, but from overload. Your brain’s gone static, pleasure boiling over into something raw and animal.

Your belly is round and tight now, heavy with the weight of what he’s filled you with, and still he doesn’t stop.

He growls against your jaw, panting, drooling, tongue dragging up your cheek as he presses his full weight into you, cock flexing again—and again.

You sob. “Grady—fuck—you’re gonna break me—can’t—can’t take any more—”

But your cunt tells a different story.

You’re still fluttering, still clenching, still milking him.

And he knows it.

He snarls—mine—and bites.

Not enough to draw blood. Not yet.

But the pressure of his teeth at your shoulder makes your pussy spasm around his cock, and he feels it—his rhythm falters, a sharp whine tearing from his throat as he loses control again.

He pounds into you—knot stretching, twisting, tugging your walls—and then he freezes, cock driving deep, locked in place as another wave of hot, sticky cum explodes into your womb.

You scream—back arching, vision white—as the next orgasm tears through you. It's messy, wild, unstoppable. You’re not even really present anymore, just floating in this thick, saturated haze of heat and pressure and pleasure that’s long since passed the point of bearable.

Your belly swells again—tight, impossibly so—sloshy and full and bred.

He’s breathing hard above you, body locked to yours, knot pulsing, twitching, anchoring him deep where you need him most.

And he still hasn’t moved.

You whimper—wrecked and wet and ruined. “Grady… please… it’s too much…”

But he doesn’t understand words.

Not now.

Not when your body’s still twitching around him. Not when you smell like him. Not when your swollen cunt is still leaking with need, still drooling around the knot he won’t—can’t—pull out.

He nuzzles your cheek gently, a small whine escaping his throat, and you know what it means.

He’s going to go again.

Limbs slack, muscles twitching, thighs still splayed open beneath the weight of his massive body. Your belly is tight, bloated with his cum, heat pulsing low and deep where he’s still locked inside you. His knot keeps you stretched wide, stuffed full, your pussy fluttering around him in slow, helpless contractions.

And Grady?

Grady’s not done.

You feel it in the twitch of his hips. The way his cock pulses again, buried to the hilt, still leaking more into a space that can’t possibly take it. You’re drenched. Your thighs are soaked. His cum leaks around the seal of your cunt in thick, warm trickles, and he just… keeps swelling.

His tongue drags along your throat, slow and messy. He noses at your jaw, huffing warm breath across your cheek, and lets out a low, chest-deep growl.

You’re not sure if he’s trying to soothe you or warn you.

“Grady—” your voice is shredded, barely more than a breath, “—you already filled me, baby… you already bred me—there’s no more room…”

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, and those green eyes—still his, still present—burn with something ancient and inevitable. As if that word—enough—doesn’t exist anymore.

You’re his mate. You’re in heat. And you’re still clenching around him.

So he keeps going.

He grinds into you, slow and firm, dragging the full swell of his knot against your aching walls. It punches another breathless sound from your chest, the stretch igniting nerves you didn’t even know were left.

His tongue lolls over your throat, then up your cheek again. Gentle now. Reverent. But it’s paired with the steady rut of his hips as he moves inside you—barely an inch, but enough.

Enough to make you jolt. Enough to make your overstimulated body jerk against him, your cunt sucking and milking him out of pure, desperate reflex.

“Grady—fuck, please—I can’t—can’t come again—”

But you’re lying.

Your body betrays you.

Your pussy clenches again—tight, frantic, still fluttering around the knot that should’ve ruined you already.

And he feels it.

His growl spikes into something sharp and guttural—and then his teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder.

Not a nibble.

A claim.

The bite is deep, burning-hot and possessive, his jaw locking down just hard enough to make your back arch and your voice break into a strangled scream.

It sends you over the edge again.

Your orgasm rips through you with brutal force—sobbing, shaking, your legs kicking weakly beneath him as you gush around his cock, the heat in your womb tightening until you swear your belly’s going to burst.

He holds the bite, low growls vibrating into your skin, not letting up even as you fall apart beneath him—completely wrecked, completely bred, and still… still he’s grinding into you, shoving his cock deeper inside the mess he’s made of your body.

You don’t even recognize the noises coming out of your throat anymore—just broken, wet gasps, somewhere between sobbing and begging and moaning his name like a prayer. Your hands flutter uselessly at his back, nails scratching weakly at thick fur, but you don’t really want him to stop.

You can’t imagine being empty.

Ever again.

And gods—he knows it.

He noses at your neck, licking at the wound he made, all while his cock pulses again. You feel the fresh swell inside you, the way his balls draw up tight against you, and then—

Another flood.

Thick. Hot. Endless.

His whole body trembles as he empties inside you again, a low howl vibrating in his throat as he knots tighter, deeper, his cock pulsing with wave after wave of cum until you’re crying out, belly stretched taut and heavy between you.

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s filled you.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come.

And still, he’s not soft.

Still, he’s not moving.

You whimper softly, thighs twitching, muscles useless beneath the press of him.

“Baby…” you rasp, tears slipping hot and helpless down your cheeks. “You’re gonna break me…”

Grady lets out a low, soft huff. His hips roll gently, keeping the pressure steady, the lock unbroken. You can feel the subtle pump of his cock still twitching inside you—leaking, marking, branding.

You’re not just his now.

You’re bred.

Filled to overflowing. Belly bulging. Pussy stretched wide around his knot, drooling with cum. Claimed so thoroughly your body is still spasming in aftershocks.

The knot pulses once more inside you—heavy and firm and unyielding—and then, finally, finally, you feel it start to shrink.

A slow, dragging shift. A deep pull deep inside you as the swollen base begins to soften, releasing that unbearable tension, that relentless pressure that had locked you open and stretched around him.

You sob at the sensation—not relief, not yet—just raw. Your body can’t decide what it feels. There’s too much. You’re too full. Your belly aches. Your thighs are slick and twitching, your cunt still fluttering in aftershocks as the knot deflates inch by inch.

And as it does—

It starts to leak.

At first, just a trickle. Warm and thick, seeping around the seal of your abused cunt.

But the moment his knot slips free—

It gushes.

A rush of heat pours from your pussy in a heavy wave, spilling between your thighs. You cry out at the sensation—body clenching instinctively around the sudden emptiness as your abused walls contract, twitching with each pulse.

Grady lets out a low whine, his tongue dragging over your cheek as he nudges you gently, trying to comfort even as the mess he left behind keeps spilling out of you.

It won’t stop.

Another gush follows, thicker this time—warm and slick. It coats your thighs, spills into the grass beneath you, your swollen pussy twitching and oozing, fluttering helplessly around the nothing he left behind.

You reach down instinctively, hand brushing between your legs—and shudder at the wet squelch, the feel of your fingertips gliding over slick folds drenched with him.

"Fuck…" your voice is ruined, barely a breath. “Grady… so much…”

He noses at your cheek, gentle now. Panting softly, whining when you whimper—like he knows what he’s done to you, and now he just wants to keep you warm, keep you safe, even as your body keeps leaking him out in slow, sticky waves.

You try to sit up, only to immediately collapse with a wet squelch as another gush forces itself out—your cunt clenching, dripping, unable to hold the load he left behind.

You feel raw. Ruined.

Ruined in the best, filthiest way.

Your belly is still round and soft, still heavy with what hasn’t yet spilled out. Still wide open from the stretch of his knot.

Grady noses at your hip, then licks between your thighs, slow and unhurried. Cleaning you. Scenting you. Whining softly when your body jerks from overstimulation.

"Too much," you whimper, breath hitching as his tongue drags through the slick mess he left. "You're making me—fuck, I’m still coming—"

Your hips twitch again—another gush forcing its way out at the pressure of his tongue.

He growls softly, satisfied. Tail thumping.

You’re not sure if he’s proud of himself or just overwhelmed by the scent, but you know—without a shadow of a doubt—he’d do it all over again.

And maybe you’d let him.

Because right now, lying in the mess of what he’s done to you—soaked and open and claimed—you’ve never felt more his.

And he’s still hovering close.

Still licking.

Still watching your hole flutter and leak.

Still hard.

You lie there in the grass, splayed out on the soaked, ruined blanket, your limbs heavy and shaking, belly soft and swollen with what hasn’t yet spilled out. Your cunt’s still twitching—used, emptied, but not at rest. Every breath draws another sluggish trickle between your thighs.

And Grady is watching.

His massive body is curled protectively around you now, no longer grinding, no longer rutting—just present. There’s a quiet, animal weight in the way he stays pressed to your side, the bulk of him warm and solid and humming with something softer than before.

He noses your neck again. Licks your jaw in a slow, deliberate drag. And this time, there's no growl.

Just breath. Just presence.

His tongue moves down, gentle now, nudging at the curve of your shoulder where his teeth left bruises. He licks at it slowly, almost guiltily, as if he knows. As if some part of him is already returning—recognizing the ache, the overwhelm, the ruin he left behind.

You’re too spent to do anything but whimper.

“Grady…” Your voice is raw silk, rasping on the air. You shift slightly, and another gush of thick heat spills from your aching pussy—down your thighs, onto the grass, seeping from your stretched, open core.

He watches it.

Then noses at the mess. Carefully. Reverently.

His tongue laps through it—not with hunger, but with focus. Tending. His broad, warm strokes drag through the slick between your thighs, cleaning you the way animals do—slow, purposeful, present. You twitch with each pass, sensitive and overstimulated, but you don’t stop him.

You need him.

Even now. Especially now.

His tongue dips lower, and when your hips jerk from the contact, he pauses. Whines softly, a small sound in the back of his throat. You realize he’s checking on you, waiting. Asking permission.

He’s starting to come back.

You thread your fingers through the thick ruff of fur at his neck, a loose, shaking motion, and give the gentlest tug.

“I’m okay,” you murmur, voice soft and frayed. “You can… keep going.”

So he does.

Slow strokes between your thighs. Over the slick swell of your pussy, down to the drenched skin of your inner thighs. Not arousing, not demanding—just gentle. Just his. He hums a little in his chest with each swipe, something content and tender, like his instincts have shifted into protectiveness now that the drive to mate is done.

He noses at your stomach, pressing his face into the soft, round curve. Breathing you in. You’re still so full—so claimed—and he curls tighter around you, one heavy paw braced at your hip like he’s guarding you from the world.

You lie there, cradled in the warmth of him, heart still fluttering as his licks slow.

Minutes pass.

The heat in your limbs gives way to a sleepy, molten exhaustion. Your skin smells like him. Your body feels like his. And slowly… slowly… you feel his body begin to change.

There’s a ripple under your palm.

A slow shift. The lines of his form begin to melt, bones softening, limbs shortening, fur dissolving in quiet pulses. The wolf fades away.

And then… Grady is there.

Still huge. Still warm. But human again, lying naked beside you in the wreckage of everything he did.

His chest is heaving with post-shift exhaustion, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his green eyes—soft now, glassy and so aware—blink down at you in disbelief.

“Oh… fuck,” he whispers.

He reaches for you instantly, cupping your cheek with shaking fingers. “Shit—baby—I didn’t—are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You stare up at him, lashes fluttering, lips parted.

“No,” you breathe. “You… wrecked me.”

And then you smile. Just a little. Just enough.

Grady lets out a strangled, breathless laugh—half shame, half awe—and leans his forehead against yours. His hand drifts down, over your flushed, sticky belly, then between your legs—freezing when he feels the mess still leaking from you.

His eyes go wide.

“I…” His throat bobs. “I bred you so fucking hard, didn’t I?”

You giggle, barely able to move, weak with it. “You did.”

He stares at the mess between your legs, jaw slack, like he’s trying to process the fact that all of that came from him. Then he lets out another stunned laugh—ragged and boyish and completely Grady.

“Well, shit.”

His thumb strokes your hip, still reverent. Still careful. Then, with a crooked grin and a look of ridiculous pride in his eyes, he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“I think I just gave you enough to start a litter.”

Grady doesn’t stop touching you.

Even once he’s shifted back—once the fur’s gone and the claws are hands again—he’s still hovering. Stroking your face with the back of his fingers. Brushing sweat-damp hair from your temples. Palming your soft belly like he can’t quite believe it’s real.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, almost in awe. “Gods… you’re still leaking.”

Your thighs twitch. Another soft, hot trickle slips out of you, pooling between your legs. You whimper from the oversensitivity, hips flinching weakly, but Grady hushes you right away—hand on your thigh, lips pressed to your temple.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. Gonna take care of you.”

He sounds dazed. Like he’s still trying to climb out of instinct, but can’t stop clinging to the scent of you, the sight of you stretched out, messy, marked. Claimed in every way.

You reach for him sluggishly, fingers brushing his chest. “S’too much to walk,” you murmur, already anticipating the soreness, the slippery ache between your legs.

Grady doesn’t hesitate.

“I’ve got you,” he says, voice dropping low and reverent.

His arms slide under your thighs and shoulders, careful and strong, and he lifts you like you weigh nothing. You gasp softly, head resting against his bare chest, the warmth of his skin grounding you. Your thighs part reflexively as another lewd squelch sounds from your still-leaking pussy, but he only tightens his grip.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re still so full of me.”

His voice is wrecked with it—shaky and proud. The scent’s driving him crazy all over again, but he bites it back. Holds it down.

You feel the rumble of it in his chest as he starts walking—slow and careful—toward the creek just beyond the trees.

The moon hangs low, casting silver over the grass. The blanket behind you is ruined, soaked through with sweat and cum and dirt and you. And still, Grady carries you like you’re made of starlight and glass.

“I didn’t think it’d be like that,” he murmurs as he walks. His nose brushes your hair, lips ghosting your temple. “Didn’t think I could stay like that. Not and still… still know you. Still love you.”

You blink up at him, heavy-lidded and aching, heart fluttering under your ribs.

“You did,” you whisper. “You never stopped.”

He lets out a breath that sounds a little like a laugh and a little like a sob.

The creek glimmers just ahead, quiet and soft with slow-moving water. He steps into it barefoot, careful not to jostle you, and the cool stream rushes around his legs, up to his calves, then his thighs.

You sigh when he lowers you into the water.

It’s cold—but clean. And gentle. And it feels so good against your raw, sticky skin.

Grady kneels behind you, guiding your back against his chest, pulling you into his lap as the water laps around your hips.

“Sorry I was so…” His voice falters. “So much.”

You reach down, guiding his hand to rest between your thighs. Let him feel the ache, the slickness, the open, overstretched softness he left behind.

“You were perfect.”

Grady goes still behind you.

Then he exhales shakily, and starts to move—cupping water, rinsing your inner thighs, your swollen folds, every sticky inch of skin. He’s quiet about it. Focused. Gentle. Like you’re the most sacred thing he’s ever touched.

When he’s done, he pulls you closer, both of you half-submerged in the creek now, his chin resting on your shoulder, your legs draped over his.

And for a long, soft stretch of time… you just float there.

Held. Clean. Still full, still sore, still his.

Finally, he lets out a low, cheeky little sigh.

“Well,” he murmurs, voice a little more himself now, “next full moon, I vote we put down a tarp first.”

You laugh weakly. “You ruined the blanket.”

“And probably the grass. And maybe your ability to walk.”

You groan, head tipping back against his shoulder. “Definitely that.”

Grady kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth—warm and smiling, finally himself again, but softer somehow.

More yours than he was before.

“Totally worth it,” he grins.

[karush1fa]

🔞 | Flipping Pages

Warnings: NSFW. Smut without plot. F/M. Cunnilingus. Fingering. Dirty talk. Voice kink. Praise kink. Pet names. Aftercare.

AO3:

—

"The books you have are quite interesting, sweetheart. Want me to read a line for you?" He said, as you just walked in his room.

"Although it seems innocent outside, the contents are indeed the opposite. I guess this is what they say about don't judge the book by its cover."

You were frozen when you realized it was your favourite book you've purchased a few days ago. It was very explicit, and the only thing on your mind right now is to get out.

He smirks as he notices your right foot subtle sliding, trying to hide that you're about to escape.

"Come here. Sit beside me."

You were about to protest, but he stops you by pressing his index finger to his lips, signalling you. "Shh. No questions, just come over here."

Defeated, you walk towards him. You can feel his eyes staring at you while you sit down.

"Good. Let's read this book of yours."

You look at him flustered and surprised. There's absolutely no way you will read that book with him. Especially since you know it contains very detailed and explicit scenes. You wanted to snatch it away.

"You do know you can't escape me. Besides, why are you even running away, sweetie? We're just going to read." He said with those teasing tones of his that you find annoyingly attractive.

The anticipation of what chapter, what line he will read is slowly lingering inside you. You were getting flustered while you watched him flip the pages. He hasn't even started, and yet here you are; getting all worked up, nervous, and excited.

With his eyebrow lifted, he looks at you. Noticing your state, he chuckles.

"Why are you so nervous? This isn't an exam you need to pass in order to graduate."

He finally stopped, and you were so sure you saw him slightly smirking. "What is he smiling about?" You thought.

Just as you were about to say something, he read a line from the book that you know which part is it.

"Hearing her whispered response, he leaned in closer to her, his breath warm against her ear. He gently nibbled on her earlobe, just to tease her more."

"He chuckled again, enjoying the sound of her gasp. He loved the way she said his name, and he couldn't help but want to hear it again. He continued to nibble on her earlobe, his lips moving down to her neck."

You were getting flustered, and before he could continue, you covered his mouth. He chuckles against your palm, and you feel the vibrations from it, making you even more flustered.

"Sweetie." He mumbled against your palm as he gently grabbed your wrist, slightly removing it from his mouth.

"We haven't even reached the good part yet. Hmm, how about you read it for me?"

Your eyes widen, "No. There is no way I would read that for you." You said, all red as a tomato.

He laughs, "Come on, kitten, it'll be fun. If you do it, you'll get a reward after."

Raising your eyebrow, you ask, "And, what is this reward?" You were interested from his negotiation.

"I will do anything you want me to do. It's a win-win situation, right?"

You stared at his eyes for a moment, and then you heard him laughing.

"Are you checking if I'm sincere? You know I don't go back against my word." He said as he looked back at you.

With no hesitation, you agreed, and right now, you finally had your book back. The difference is that you can't escape. Why? He places both of your legs on his lap, making you unable to stand up and run away. You sigh. He knows you'll still try to get away.

"Should I just continue what you were reading last time then?"

He looks at you with those mischievous smiles. "Yes, sweetie. We wouldn't know what comes next if you skip some parts, no?"

"Of course, he would say that." You thought. Tracing your fingers through the words, you search for that line where he stopped. Unconsciously biting your lip as you saw what was written next.

"He chuckled again, his lips still on her neck. He moved his hands to her hips, holding her tightly against him. He nipped at her neck gently as his teeth grazing her skin."

You felt him placing his right hand on your thigh, his thumb slightly caressing it. Clearing your throat, you continue reading.

"He pulled back slightly, his lips leaving her neck. He smirked at the hitch in her breath, loving the effect he was having on her. Hearing her adorable sounds, and the way she say his name like that—he just can't resist teasing her. He leaned in closer again, his lips hovering just above her ear."

"He moved his lips down to her shoulder, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. Hearing the soft gasp that escaped her lips, he smirked against her skin. He continued to kiss and nibble on her shoulder, his hands still on her hips, holding her firmly in place. His voice was low and husky, turning her on even more."

"Am I going to read the whole book?" You decided to asked. Reading this book always gets you hot and bothered, and you reading it while he was here isn't helping at all. It's pure torture.

He looks at you, examining your face.

"Earth to Sylus." You said, waving your hand in front of him.

"Continue reading. I'll let you know when you'll stop." He said.

Sighing. "He's unbelievable," you thought. The next scenes will be more intense than this, and for the love of god, you don't want to read that out loud while he's here.

"He noticed her shiver as he tugged at her shirt, and he took it as a sign to continue. He pulled her shirt up further, exposing more of her shoulder and neck. His lips trailed down to her collarbone, planting soft kisses along the way."

After reading those lines, you decided to take a peek to see what's he's doing, but to your surprise, he was looking at you.

"Do you want something?" He asked. His voice was low.

"Nothing." You quickly answered. You averted your eyes back to the pages of the book, but before you know it, he moved his hands up to your chin, gently tilting your head up so you were looking directly at him.

"What's next?" He asks in a whisper, looking right into you.

"I, uh.."

Your eyes glance at the book, landing onto the next lines you're about to read.

"He's caressing her cheek, tracing her jawline to her lips.."

You flinched when he did the exact same thing the book said. You tried to compose yourself to continue reading.

"He watched as his fingers traced her bottom lip—"

Your breath hitch, and you looked at him as he did the same thing again.

"What are you.." Your voice soft and low.

"Continue." He whispered. You swallowed.

"His touch gentle yet firm. He leaned in even closer, his face only a few inches away from hers."

"Sylus.." You called. He was much closer right now.

"Don't stop. Keep reading." A mix of command and pleading was in his voice. It sounded madly attractive and you can't help not to oblige.

"His thumb brushing against her lip. He was looking at her lips with a mixture of desire and fascination."

You look at him when he did those lines to your lips. He stared right back at you.

"What's next? Tell me."

Without looking at the book, you answered.

"As far as I remember, she slightly opened her mouth."

"Could you do that for me?"

And you did. His thumb slowly slid inside your mouth, resting on your tongue, making you softly moan. The sound went straight to his groin, and he couldn't help but imagine how good your mouth would feel wrapped around something else.

"That was adorable, sweetie. I want to hear from you more." He whispered. His thumb still moves slowly in your mouth, rubbing against your tongue.

You look at him with half-lidded eyes, and he looks back at you. His gaze was intense and filled with desire.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered.

"Sy.." You managed to speak yet he let out a low growl at hearing his name with your voice combined with the feeling of your tongue on his thumb.

"Is there a problem?" He asked, a concern tone in his voice.

You gently grabbed his fingers away from your mouth.

"We haven't finished reading the chapter yet."

He softly chuckles. He tugs a hair strand to your ear and places his palm on your right cheek.

"How about.. I will do exactly what you're reading. Is that okay for you?" His voice was gentle.

You smiled. He's always like this; prioritising your comfort. He would ask your consent in every single thing, and you can't help not to fall in love over and over again. He has a heart that is 10 times bigger than his whole physique.

"It's always a yes when it's from you." You answered, placing your hand above his hand.

You saw him smile.

Though, that turned into a smirk. He leaned closer to your ear.

"Let's get started, shall we?" He whispered and gently lifted up your legs away from his lap. You were now sitting properly. His left arm resting on your shoulders.

You nodded and swallowed hard as you started reading.

"He slowly moved his hand up her thigh, spreading her legs. His fingers were tracing along the edges of her shorts, making its way inside."

Your breath hitched as he followed what the book says, as if it was guiding him.

He smirked when he saw how tightly you were gripping the book.

"You'll rip the book if you're holding like that. Wouldn't want that sweetie."

You glared when you heard him chuckling.

"Shut up and let me read." Trying to compose yourself as you glance to the next lines. Taking a deep breath.

"His fingers grazing the edge of her panties.."

You flinched again as Sylus leaned closer to your left ear.

"What did she say after? Read it and do it for me."

Without hesitating, you answered.

"I-I'll spread more for you." As the book says, you spread your legs more.

Sylus glanced at the next lines and read the dialogue loudly.

"Oh, you will? Will you? You're going to do whatever I want, aren't you?"

"Yes, I will do anything." You whispered. Staring at the book in a daze, you didn't even react when Sylus started reading.

"He smirked, loving the way she was so willing to do anything for him. He moved his hand higher, his fingers gently tracing the edge of her panties again."

"Anything, huh? You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you? You'll let me do whatever I want to you?"

"Yes.." You whimpered. Sylus smirked.

"Can you still read, sweetie?"

A soft hummed was only your response.

"He chuckled, loving the way she whimpered. He could tell she was getting lost in the sensations, and he wanted to see her completely lost in them."

"Good girl. You're being such a good girl for me. So obedient."

Sylus whispered those lines right into your ear. As his fingers now gently brushing against your clothed clit, teasing you. He groaned as he heard you moan, his fingers continuing to rub against your clit through your panties. He could feel how wet you are.

"We barely even halfway the chapter, and yet you're dripping wet already. Did our book session turn you on so badly? Hm?"

You were about to close the book when he stopped you, removing his hands inside your PJs.

"No, no, not yet, kitten. We still haven't finished this chapter. Hold the book, and let's continue reading."

You obediently followed him and held the book to start reading again.

A soft moan escape from you as he slipped his hands inside your PJs once again.

"He loved the way she was begging for him for more. He slowly moved his fingers under her panties, his fingers gently sliding over her bare skin."

Sylus, read the next few lines, making your breathing hitched.

"You want more, huh? Do you want me to touch you properly?

"Yes."

"He grinned, loving the fact that she was so desperate for him. He slowly moved his fingers lower, sliding through her folds and dipping into her entrance."

You moan after he reads those lines. Throwing your head back, you felt his arms around your shoulders.

"You're so wet, baby. You're soaking."

Sylus whispered those lines. He continued reading for you.

"He watched her as she threw her head back, enjoying the way her body reacted to his touch. He pushed his fingers deeper into her, curling them slightly as he did."

"You're so responsive. I love it. I love how much you want me."

"Sylus." You moaned.

His hands from your shoukders reached out and gently grabbed your chin, making you face the book.

"Read the next line for me, sweetie."

Half-lidded eyes, you tried to read it.

"He increased the pace of his fingers, pumping them in and out of her, his thumb circling her cli—Ah!" You let out a loud moan, dropping the book. You didn't even manage to finish the line.

"I could listen to you all day." Sylus whispered.

"There, like that. Don't stop."

Sylus smirked, loving how vocal you were getting. He knew exactly where to touch you to drive you wild.

"Like this? Do you like it when I touch you here? Right here?" He said, continuing to hit that same spot over and over again.

Your moans were getting louder. Head throwing back, feeling his fingers deep inside of you as he fingerfuck your g-spot.

Grabbing his forearms as you bite your lip. You were a whimpered, moaning yet beautiful mess—that's what Sylus thought about while watching your expressions.

He loved the way you were getting more and more incoherent. He loved seeing you like this, completely lost in pleasure because of him.

"That's it, baby. Keep making those sounds for me. I want to hear from you." His voice rough with desire.

You cursed under your breath. It was nothing new when it came to endearments. You're used to it, but it's always different when he calls you other pet names other than 'kitten' and 'sweetie'. Especially when doing such activities with him.

"I.. want more. Talk to me.." You pleaded.

He chuckled again, loving how you were demanding more. He loved how needy you were for him.

"More? You want me to talk to you? What do you want me to say, baby?"

You look at him before answering.

"The things you want to do to me. Tell me.."

He smirked, loving how you were becoming more direct. He leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Oh, you want me to tell you what I want to do to you? I'll tell you everything. I want to taste you. I want to make you come with just my mouth. I want to feel you clench around my fingers. I want to hear you scream my name as you come for me."

"Ahh...hah... I love your voice.." You said, moaning in between.

He smiled, loving the way you were reacting to his words. He loved knowing that he was affecting you so much.

"You like the sound of my voice? You like hearing me talk to you like this? You like it when I tell you how badly I want you?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes." You whimpered.

He chuckled again, loving how easy it was to make you moan. He always loved how responsive you were to him.

"You're so beautiful like this. You're all flushed and needy, and it's all because of me."

His fingers are still working inside you, pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace.

"I want your tongue."

Sylus smirks. You were always so direct, and he loved that part of you. He moved his head down to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

"Oh, do you, now? You want my tongue? I can give you my tongue, baby. I can give you everything you want."

He moved his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"I'll give you anything you want. I'll give you everything. Just ask for it and I'll give it to you. I'll give you everything you need, everything you desire. Just tell me what it is."

"Your tongue. Eat me out. Please."

He groaned, feeling his own desire growing even more at your words. He pulled back slightly, looking at you with a hungry look in his eyes.

Kneeling down the sofa. He moved in front of your legs.

"Lift up your hips for me."

You obliged. He pulls down your PJs along with your underwear. He positioned himself between your legs, hands gripping your thighs as he spread your legs, drunkly looking at how wet you were.

"I can't wait to taste you." He whispered, leaning closer as you felt his hot breath down there. He hummed before burying his face between your legs, his tongue immediately going to work on you, licking and sucking and exploring every inch of you.

"Mm!" Your hands went straight in gripping his hair.

He moaned against you, loving the way you gripped his hair. He loved how responsive you were to his touch. He continued to eat you out, his tongue moving faster and harder as he sucked and licked at your clit.

"Mmm, you taste so good, baby. You taste so good on my tongue."

He increased the pressure of his tongue, his hands moving to grip your hips, holding you in place as he continued to devour you. He could feel you getting closer and closer to the edge, and he wanted to push you over it.

"You're so close, aren't you? You're almost there. Just a little bit more. Let go for me, doll."

You moan as you hear him calling you with that pet name. You were now rocking your hips towards his tongue. As he watches you moving your hips with him against his tongue. He could feel you getting even more desperate, and he knew you were almost there.

"That's it, baby. Keep moving like that. Keep rocking your hips against my tongue. You're so close, I can feel it. You're so close to coming for me."

"Sylus.. I'm..."

"Let me catch you." His hands snaking towards your clothed perked nipples, pinching them as he continued to tonguefuck you deeper.

"Coming! I'm.. coming!" You screamed.

He grinned against your cunt as he heard you screamed, loving the way you let go completely. He continued to lick and suck at your clit, his tongue moving faster and harder as he brought you to your peak.

"That's it, baby. Come for me. Come for me right now."

He watched as you came, his eyes never leaving your face. He loved the way you looked when you came, the way your body trembled, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. He continued to lick and suck at you, riding out your orgasm until you were completely spent.

"Good girl. That's it. You're so beautiful, my beloved."

You were breathing heavily. Chest rising up and down as you felt yourself calming down.

He slowly pulled away from you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Looking up at you, he smiled while caressing your thighs with his thumb.

"You're so beautiful when you're all blissed out like that. Rosy cheeks, messy hair, panting mess. My ethereal."

You pushed yourself to bend over to kiss him. He was surprised for a moment but quickly melted into the kiss, kissing you back just as passionately. You could taste yourself on his lips.

He pulled away, resting his forehead from yours.

"Can you walk?" He teased and you giggled.

"What do you think?"

"Well, I think you can. You're strong, brave, and even capable of working despite your backlogs. You can wash up by yourself."

You frowned. Looking at him in disbelief.

"Are you going to just—"

He cuts you off by laughing. That laugh. It was your favourite laugh of him—A laugh that you can describe between teasing you and purely out of happiness. He's happy with you.

He kisses the top of your head.

"I will always take care of you for the rest of my life, my beloved."

[bunny-jpeg]

soft coat

fernando alonso

tags: smut/pwp, selkie au, selkie!reader, divorced!fernando, pregnancy, pregnant!reader, cowgirl position, loving

a/n: i'm writing a very long fic set in a selkie au, but this is just a little something for ya'll since the idea was so popular <3

"my love!" you heard fernando as you were outside. it was summer time and you were hanging up the laundry for the week. it had been nicer the last few days. it wouldn't be much longer before you had your pup. the swell to your middle was impressive, you were indefinably carrying a selkie pup.

he came down the steps and said, "your coat is dry inside." he approached you from where you were between the rows of clotheslines. he hung up your coat inside, your seal fur that you protected with your life. and fernando by extension protected it too. it was an extension of you. he placed it over your shoulders while you hung up one of his shirts. and got his arms around you, he felt your bump.

you had been more close to your coat since you got pregnant. it had been hard to transform from seal to human with another life inside of you. so your coat was a good way to feel closer to the sea while not being fully transformed. so fernando did everything he could to make sure that this entire process was comfortable for you.

"let me help you, you relax." he said softly to you. but you stayed close by. leaned down to hand him clothes and clothespins. he thought it was adorable as he finished up quickly. then the two of you went back inside.

you had met fernando over the previous summer. you had got yourself onto his boat and kept eating his fish. you were hungry and he was right there! and then slowly over time you grew closer to him until you showed him your human form. and from there you fell in love. now you were carrying his child.

and like how you lured him in, he lured you into the bedroom so he could make sure you were taking breaks and having rest. but once you got into the bedroom with your coat on the bed to get comfortable on top of. but you pulled your human husband close to you.

you were both laid on the fur with your hands on his bearded face and pressing a series of kisses along the tops of his cheeks. you made cute squeaky noises as you kissed him and he simply melted into your touch. his life had changed so much since you met, but he wouldn't have changed a single aspect of it. he loved that you were with him, that he had you to love.

you soon reached for the belt of his jeans and got it off while he worked his white t-shirt off of him. you kissed across his strong chest and he shuddered under your affection. his hand found your middle and he sighed contently.

"are you alright to do this, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do." he kept his hand on your middle and leaned in close to you, "i need to make sure you're okay."

you nodded before you took off your shorts and t-shirt (that belonged to fernando) and exposed more of your middle to him. your pregnant swell. and he placed both hands on your middle while you were both naked in your bedroom with the sunlight streaming through the large windows of your bedroom.

your lover laid out in your furs with you straddled his waist with your hands on his chest. you dug your nails into his pecs for a moment and licked your lips. he looked amazing. he was a fair bit older in human years, but technically you were older. your kind lived longer. you tensed up a little in anticipation before you sank down on his cock. you let out a sweet little moan.

he tensed up then relaxed. his hands remained at your middle as you rolled your hips. you were gentle, loving with your movements and it made him shudder with a certain want. you felt beautiful on top of him, you weren't going to have rough sex with him. not while you were this pregnant. you needed to be easy on your body, even with your abilities as a selkie. and fernando didn't want to hurt you either, he wanted to be gentle. make you feel good in his own way.

his hands roamed your body as he softly praised you, "my beautiful wife, the light of my life. you are so beautiful. even with my baby in your belly. a sign that i claimed you." he clutched your hips and made him shudder with want. he needed you more than anything. the creature he loved more than the sea and the sky.

"my world. my rock." you leaned in a little bit to kiss his face once more. your noises were sweet as you made love to your husband. you never thought you could meet a man like him, be in love with such a human. he alluring, he accepted your world and brought you into his and the product of that was the baby you carried. your pup.

pleasure continued through your body as you moved against him. you took control of your movements and let him feel every inch of you. you licked your lips at the sight of him. your lover, your husband. the human that made you learn to love. to accept affection.

he leaned up to kiss you, both hands on your swollen middle. promises of a future together, a happy sweet future with your family. you picked up the pace marginally. the rolling of your hips felt good on his cock.

he knew from the moment he met you, when you came onto his boat with a hunger, that you two would be close for a lifetime. and any time after. he rubbed your belly lovingly as he tried to meet your pace. you two were wrapped up in your little world, tucked into the shores. protected. you could raise your child in peace and love your husband. and he could love you. you'd never be alone again, not while fernando still breathed.

you two kissed one another deeply, your swollen mound was pressed between you two. but, it only made you two feel closer. he loved the feeling, the knowledge that he made you this way. that he was your first and only lover. the only one to ever have you in a sexual fashion. that was quite the title to have and fernando wore it with pride. he loved you, he loved every inch of you. you were such a curious woman and fernando wanted it all.

the two of you continued to make love on the bed. you continued to feel up one another as the two of you rutted against one another. there were soft words exchanged, promises of love and devotion. fernando loved you as deep as the oceans went. it was the pull in his chest.

"you looked beautiful." he said, "more beautiful than any woman. beautiful like the sea." he felt lost before he met you, after his wife left. he never though he'd find love again. but there you were, now on top of him as his hand explored your body. as he took in the beautiful feeling of your curves. his beautiful wife.

his selkie lover.

you felt the pleasure hit its peak inside of you. you felt the fire in your core that spread into your blood as you rode him through your climax. you made loud noises as you felt the pleasure hit through your body. you hissed and held onto his shoulders tightly. it only made him hold onto your hips tightly as the two of you made love. the climax felt amazing as he met your pace.

your beautiful lover with his dark eyes and smile that pulled you in. his expression shifted as he felt himself cum as well. he rolled up into you and game inside of you with a few more heavy thrusts. the feeling was intense and it left fernando with a achy need for his selkie wife. with you both reached climax, fernando felt up your body once more. he took in the feeling of you against him. he loved it, he loved you.

eventually you were laid out beside fernando and he held you close to him. your naked bodies on top of your coat. curled up against one another. eventually fernando moved down to kiss at your swollen middle with such a dedicated and love. a promise.

"i love you." he said

you replied softly as your breathing leveled out, "i love you too."

"i will keep you and our child safe, for as long as i can." he said as he kissed the soft skin. he loved you and he loved your baby. always.

-

fernando didn't know what to expect when he knew he was going to have a child with a selkie. he had heard the stories from folklore. but, when your daughter was born. she didn't have gills, fins or fur. she was just a plump little baby. your little mira.

curious brown eyes, and chubby cheeks. he looked quite a bit like fernando. but was smart just like her mother. you were close to the shore in the water now that the seasons were changing. you were cooing to your daughter and brought some of the sea water to her. you were wetting her cheeks, to get her used to the water that she'd come home.

you sang her soft songs of your kind. and fernando stay close to protect his wife and daughter. in his arms was your selkie coat. the biggest trust you could give. but, you were beyond establishing trust. you were his and he was yours, and your love produced a sweet baby girl. he admired you from behind and felt the love for you in his heart. down to his very core. his little world were in those waters and he'd always be there when you came back to shore <3

[glowettee]

✧・゜: lessons that changed everything: what i learned from tam kaur :・゜✧:・゜

hey lovelies! ✧

i've been deep diving into tam kaur's videos lately (at 2am with a face mask on, as one does) and honestly? her advice has shifted something in me that i didn't even know needed shifting. i wanted to share some lessons that have genuinely changed how i move through the world, in case any of you need these reminders too.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ you're allowed to prioritize yourself ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

this seems so simple but was revolutionary for me. tam talks about how we're conditioned to believe that putting ourselves first is selfish, when actually it's the foundation of everything good we bring to the world. i used to feel guilty for saying no or taking time for myself, like i was somehow failing at being a good friend/daughter/person.

now i understand that filling my own cup first isn't just okay, it's necessary. i can't pour from empty, and neither can you.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ confidence is a practice, not a personality trait ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

i always thought confident people were just born that way. tam taught me that confidence is actually built through tiny, consistent actions, speaking up even when your voice shakes, trying things that scare you, and slowly expanding your comfort zone.

the most powerful part? she talks about how confidence isn't about never feeling insecure, it's about feeling the fear and doing it anyway. this changed everything for me because i was waiting to feel confident before acting confident. turns out it works the other way around.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ your worth isn't tied to productivity ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

in one video, tam mentioned how we're taught to tie our value to what we accomplish. i felt so seen because i've always been that person with the endless to-do lists, feeling like a failure on days when i don't cross enough items off.

learning to separate my inherent worth from my output has been the most freeing thing. i'm still working on it (catching myself when i say "i didn't do anything today"), but just being aware of this pattern has helped me be gentler with myself.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ healing isn't linear ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

tam talks about this a lot, how personal growth isn't this neat upward trajectory. it's messy. you'll have days where you feel like you've figured it all out, followed by days where you fall back into old patterns.

this helped me stop being so hard on myself when i slip up. healing isn't perfection; it's progress over time. those setbacks aren't failures, they're just part of the journey.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ other people's opinions aren't your responsibility ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

this one hit me hard. tam has this way of explaining how we waste so much energy trying to manage what others think of us, when ultimately, their opinions are shaped by their own experiences and insecurities.

i used to contort myself trying to make everyone like me. now i'm learning that some people simply won't, and that's okay. it's actually freeing to release that impossible responsibility.

what i love most about tam's approach is how she balances aspirational content with reality. she doesn't promise overnight transformation, she talks about the daily practice of choosing yourself, again and again.

have any of you found creators who've shifted your perspective like this? i'd love to know who else i should be watching!

xoxo, mindy 🤍

make sure to follow + check out my substack newsletter, i'm going to post a lot of amazing content on there: follow it right here!!

[thecowboyfiles]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥: 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Welcome to the confessionals. These will be little drabbles and glimpses into Rhett and Sutter's lives that won't make it into the overall story. I hope you enjoy! Once again, thanks to @sebsxphia for the header ❤️ You might get a drabble like this if you ask me about them in my askbox 😏 content warning for vomit and Rhett being a little bit of a freak lol (It's okay, Sutter matches his freak)

Rhett wakes up with the sun streaming through the window and a solid body right next to him. He frowns. If Sutter was still in bed when Rhett woke up and not up and at 'em, having done a million things already, then that could only mean—

"Ah shit," Rhett grumbles, voice still thick with sleep as he leans over and presses his lips to his boyfriends forehead. He knew it would be burning, but he had to check anyway. "c'mon, Buck, gotta get up and get that fever down."

He lets Sutter get up slowly, heading into the bathroom to start running a tub full of cool water. Then, he comes back and slowly peels the clothes off his boyfriend, whose body has somehow transformed into a human-shaped bowl of jelly.

"I don't feel good," Sutter whimpers, and Rhett feels his heart break at the way the other man's voice cracks with how sore his throat must be.

"I know, darlin', gonna feel a whole lot better in'a cool bath, promise you." Rhett picks Sutter up, carrying him to the bathroom without even checking if he could walk for himself. He slowly lowers his boyfriend into the water, and only then does he turn off the tap.

No sooner did Sutter's naked body sink into the water, than did he start to gag over the side of the tub, water sloshing and chest heaving while Rhett muttered curses under his breath and fumbled for the trash can.

"I want my mom," Sutter whimpers, and Rhett can't help the slightly cruel chuckle that slips out.

"You're only sayin' that, 'cuz yer sick. Trust me, you do not want your mama here." It was the truth, and they both knew it. Even Rhett sometimes wished for his mom to come when he was under the weather, but it was never worth the hassle it brought.

After Rhett was sure that Sutter's fever was down, at least to a more manageable level, he picked out the most comfy clothes either of them owned and set up a little space on the couch. His one mistake was giving a popsicle over in an attempt to help soothe Sutter's raw throat; he couldn't pull his eyes away, watching the red, frozen treat disappear and then reappear out of the other man's mouth.

Sutter's sick, don't think about him sucking your dick, he's sick, don't think about him sucking your dick, he's sick don't think about— ah, fuck it.

"I'm gonna go... take a shower," Rhett says finally, jerking his head toward the bathroom.

Sutter looks up from his dripping popsicle, eyebrows furrowing together. "You're gonna leave me?"

"Well, yeah, I mean you feel fine right now, right? So I just thought..."

But Sutter doesn't miss the way that Rhett's eyes keep flicking from his mouth to his popsicle or the fact that his jeans look just a little bit more filled out than they had previously. "Oh my gosh... you're getting turned on watching me eat this popsicle, aren't you? You're sick, Abbott, absolutely sick!" He laughs, eyes lighting up, teasing.

"What? No, I'm not!"

"You are!"

"I'm not!"

"You are!"

"Well, why are you eating a popsicle like that?!"

"I'm eating it normal!"

They're both laughing now, giggling really, the way that two grown, rough and tumble cowboys only let themselves giggle around each other and with each laugh, they seem to gravitate toward each other until Rhett's forehead is pressed against Sutter's, healthy against sick. Maybe sick against sick.

"Touch yourself here," Sutter says when the teasing and laughter had died down, his voice, still rough with sickness, was low and almost breathless.

"What?" Rhett frowns, like he hasn't heard correctly, but doesn't pull back.

"C'mon, touch yourself right here where I can see."

——

GMG Tag List: @rhettsunshine @fairyheart @theoraekenslover @becks-things @mustaaarrd @its-ares @statichvm @pagesfromthevoid @howtodisappear444 @girlcowboy @pascalfavor @seitmai @littlebitofwillow @jojobeaner @auroralightsthesky @lewmagoo @flightmedictrace @mynameismckenziemae

[obsessedwhyyes]

A Tale of Fools and Tricksters (2)

Chapter 2: Looking Glass

Summary: The lingering tendrils of Astarion's enchantment take Elysia firmly in their hold. His glances, his gestures - they must surely be signs laid out just for her. Determined, Elysia sets off to find the elusive ringmaster, but confrontation, mystery, and reflection await her instead.

Rating: M Chapter Word Count: 5134 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC Content: Alternative Universe (Circus), Ringmaster Astarion, mild horror elements, eventual smut, eventual romance, basically a big whimsical (slightly dark, slightly trippy) fairytale of an AU. Chapter 1 can be found here.

A/N: This is what I like to affectionately call, ‘The Delulu Chapter.’ She will only be insufferable for a little while, I promise. She’s just having her Alice in Wonderland phase - she’ll grow out of it.

A thousand breaths caught in perfect unison. 

A thousand hearts skipped the same beat.

Gasp. Cheer.

Sigh. Swoon.

The sounds rippled through the crowd in perfect synchronicity, rising and falling like the tide.

Elysia couldn’t recall sitting down, nor how she’d come to be in this seat, surrounded once more by the plush velvet and soft murmur of the audience.

Thoughts of the past felt, simply, weightless, drifting beyond her reach.

She was here now. And that was all that mattered.

The Ringmaster spoke, with sweeping gestures befitting a man of such grandiose.

"Now, while I'm captivating enough on my own..."

Elysia's lips curved upward. She hadn't chosen to smile.

"... I suppose I should share the stage with our other little wonders. Our family has prepared something special for you tonight.”

With a flourish, his cane conjured a shimmering curtain of starlight. The glowing veil parted to reveal the first performer.

“May I present… Aurelia, mistress of flames.”

A woman stepped forward, her crimson and gold costume gleaming like embers as hoops of fire encircled her body. The flames licked and coiled around her, alive, feral, yet completely under her control.

Elysia’s heart fluttered. Aurelia was extraordinary.

But she wasn't Astarion.

“... Leon, who gives weight to dreams.”

The strongman emerged next, the stage dimming as his large frame became the focal point. His arms, broad and powerful, lifted a shimmering, gilded ring that seemed impossibly heavy, its edges glimmering as it reflected the light of Aurelia’s fire.

Elysia’s pulse quickened. Leon was a marvel.

But he didn't wear the crowd’s adoration like Astarion wore his charm.

“... And Violet, who dances between stars.”

A silver hoop descended from above, and Violet with it. Suspended high in the air and wrapped with silks, she moved with an ethereal grace, her body twisting and arching as though weightless.

Elysia couldn't help but gasp. Violet was breathtaking.

But she didn't enchant like Astarion did.

He stood apart, just behind the performers, his cane in hand, mask gleaming faintly in the ethereal glow. He wasn't the one leaping or spinning or commanding the elements. Yet, he was the axis on which everything turned; the force that made the whole performance possible.

His eyes found hers in the crowd as she watched him.

Or did she imagine that?

Surely he saw her.

Surely he felt it too.

Elysia had often wondered if love at first sight truly existed.

Often, she told herself it was simply the fancy of poets and dreamers, a comforting illusion woven to make life feel fuller. No - to Elysia, love was something that grew slowly, like tending a garden through the seasons. Something that needed patience and time to truly take root.

Yet here, now, she had never been so certain of its existence.

Was it not love to hold a person the way Astarion held her? To pull her close, until her world narrowed to his smile, his lips, his gaze? He was like a vision from a dream half-remembered, and he held her there, suspended, bound by starlight and shadow, captivated.

Yes. Yes, this was surely love.

If it wasn't love, what else could it be?

The performers took their positions. At Astarion's signal, they began.

They moved as one, their acts weaving seamlessly together like threads in an intricate tapestry. Violet soared through the air on her silver hoop, her silks trailing in elegant arcs as Aurelia’s flaming rings spiralled around her, fire and starlight intertwining. Below, Leon’s gilded ring spun like a celestial anchor, catching and refracting the light as Violet leapt from her perch, her movements mirrored by the rise and fall of the flames. A dance of fire, silk, and shadow. Three acts became one impossible dance.

The stage was like a living dream. It compelled her to...

Rise. 

The audience stood. 

Lean forward. 

Their bodies tilted as one. 

Hold your breath. 

Elysia's lungs burned with the others'.

A thousand faces turned at once, a thousand smiles stretched in unison.

The finale built higher as a crescendo of daring and grace. Violet dove through a ring of flames, her silks igniting in a burst of golden light as Leon caught her descent.

Colours blurred. Sounds merged. 

Fire and shadow. Music and motion. 

How long had it been since Elysia felt this light? This free? The weight that normally pressed against her shoulders - responsibility, duty, the relentless presence of death - had dissolved like morning mist in the summer sun. Here, she felt as though nothing could touch her. Not grief, nor guilt.

Looking at the audience, she saw faces slack with wonder, eyes glazed with absolute adoration. They were gleeful in their rapture, yet none of them had danced with him as she had. None had felt his magic against their skin, the intimate press of starlight binding them together.

None of them had what Elysia had with Astarion. Of that much, she was certain.

Fire and starlight spiralled together as the performers created their final masterpiece of the night.

Then everything stopped.

Light itself seemed to hold its breath. Violet hung suspended between earth and sky, caught in Leon's impossible hold. Aurelia's flames froze mid-flicker, crystallising into fractals of burning light. For one eternal moment, reality balanced on a knife's edge.

At Astarion's gesture, the frozen tableau shattered into pure starlight. The performers emerged from the glittering cascade, moving in perfect synchronisation as they took their final bow. Above them, the last fragments of their magic rained down like falling stars.

The audience erupted in applause. 

Elysia’s hands moved to clap with them before she realised. 

She couldn’t resist. She would never want to resist.

“Thank you, thank you, dear souls.” Astarion held his hand to his chest, dipping his head once more in a theatrical bow that made the light catch in his silvery hair. “May your dreams find you, even as you find yourselves.”

His gaze swept the audience one last time. 

Elysia could have sworn his eyes rested on her for just a moment longer than the others.

The slight tilt of his head, the way his fingers traced the handle of his cane - they can't have been mere gestures.

They must have been a silent invitation. A promise.

Elysia could never miss such glaring signs, clearly made just for her.

The need to understand, to unravel the mystery surrounding him, pulled at her, stronger than the remnants of the spellbinding performance.

It wasn’t just curiosity - it was a hunger. To know him - to be near him - felt as necessary as breathing.

Astarion was leading. Elysia must follow.

As the lights dimmed, the audience, still humming with awe, began to drift toward the exit, their faces glazed with dreamlike adoration. But Elysia hung back for just a moment before beginning her descent towards the stage on subtle steps, her gaze fixed on the velvet curtain where Astarion and the performers had disappeared. Her breath caught as she saw them slip through, leaving a ripple in the fabric.

But what caught her attention was the faint, rhythmic chime that followed each figure as they passed through the curtain.

Her eyes narrowed. Bells. A line of small, silver bells was strung along the top of the curtain, barely visible unless you were looking for them. They swayed gently with each movement, their delicate chimes swallowed by the crowd’s applause. The purpose was clear: the faintest disturbance would alert those beyond.

Clever, she thought. But it was not enough to deter her.

Elysia’s heart could never be deterred.

She studied the curtain for a moment longer. The performers moved with such grace that the bells just barely sang as they passed. The key was clearly precision, not speed.

She waited until the crowd’s murmurs swelled, the noise rising like a tide. Then, as carefully as a surgeon threading a needle, she slipped forward. Her steps were deliberate, her movements measured. She placed her hands on the edge of the curtain, just below the bells, and pushed it aside with the lightest touch, letting the fabric shift naturally around her.

The bells quivered. Elysia froze, holding her breath. 

But no sound came.

She sighed in relief.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she eased herself through the opening, the dim light of the backstage area welcoming her into its shadows. She let the curtain fall back into place, the bells swaying gently above her head.

No one had noticed. Yet.

The backstage air was a stark contrast from the grand theatrics of the stage area - muted, cooler, dimly lit by flickering lanterns. The faint scent of smoke and incense tickled her nose as she pressed herself against the nearest wall. For a moment, she allowed herself a quiet breath, her heart still racing.

She made it in.

Now, she just had to find him.

Elysia moved deeper into the warren of corridors, each step careful and measured. This place felt like another world entirely - a place where magic shed its glamour and revealed its seams. Props leaned against walls like sleeping creatures. Costumes hung from hooks like shed skins, still holding the shape of their wearers.

Gaps in curtains revealed brief glimpses of the performers as she explored. There was something oddly intimate about seeing them outside the allure of their performance - like seeing a bird folding its wings after flight.

But then a familiar voice caught Elysia’s attention.

Following the sound, she found herself near an ornate door left slightly ajar, golden light spilling through the gap. She pressed herself against the wall beside it, drawn forward by the familiar cadence of his voice.

Astarion. She had found him.

Though, his voice was accompanied by another.

“... and there you go again.” This other voice - it too was familiar, though dripping with barely contained contempt. “Such pride from someone who–”

“Who actually holds their attention?” Astarion cut in. “Yes, how terribly proud of me. Tell me, Petras - how does it feel to be forgotten the moment I take the stage?”

Petras. The name stirred something within Elysia, but she couldn’t work out what. Had they met before?

"At least I know my place," Petras spat. "I don't delude myself with dreams of–"

"Delude myself?" Astarion's laugh held no humour. "How amusing, coming from someone who spends his nights rehearsing my routine. Tell me - has my shadow filed a complaint yet? Though I suppose it must be used to you chasing it by now.”

Elysia risked a glance through the gap and had to stifle a gasp.

The dressing room was filled with mirrors. They were everywhere: lining the walls, standing on ornate frames, creating an illusion of infinite space. Each reflection caught and multiplied the candlelight, creating a kaleidoscope effect that was both beautiful and disorienting. She caught a glimpse of the two men, and the contrast in them was uncanny. Petras’s simple gold mask seemed plain, almost crude, compared to the intricate filigree of Astarion's.

"You forget yourself," Petras said. "The master has schedules for a reason. And when you deviate–"

"The master," Astarion's voice took on a strange tone, "has more pressing concerns than your petty jealousies over a few minutes' delay, don’t you think? Or have you forgotten last month’s little incident?"

Silence as Petras’s words seemed to fail him momentarily.

This was it. This was Elysia’s chance.

"I’m sorry to intrude." she stepped forward tentatively as she spoke, her voice hopeful. "I hoped I might find you..."

Both men turned sharply in her direction.

Astarion’s fingers brushed the silver filigree at his throat before smoothing out the coif of his hair in one fluid motion. "My, my… aren't you the determined one?"

Petras appeared rather vindicated. "The master needs to hear about this.”

"Must he? And I suppose you'll explain how she got past your... what was it you called it? Your 'enhanced security measures'?"

The blond man stiffened. "I hardly think–"

“No, you so rarely do.” Astarion's smile didn't waver, but his eyes kept darting to the shadows behind Elysia. "Perhaps we should discuss your recent performance evaluations while we're at it?"

Something in the threat landed. Petras's eager reporting instinct warred visibly with self-preservation. After a moment of tense silence, he backed towards the door, pausing only to give Elysia a look that might even have been pity if it hadn’t looked so much like bitter indignation.

Elysia found herself quickly irked by him.

“This isn't over, Astarion,” Petras said as he slipped out the room, punctuated by the sound of the door latch clicking into place as he closed it.

Being alone with Astarion felt different than she'd imagined - more real somehow. Her heart fluttered against her chest like a trapped bird.

But she was nothing if not determined. She knew she was right where she needed to be.

His smile brightened, though there was a tightness to it that Elysia couldn't quite place. “Forgive the uncouth display, darling. Some people simply can't help but be tiresome.”

"I came as quickly as I could," Elysia said quickly, watching as his fingers drifted again to his collar, then to adjust his already-perfect hair. “I know I should’ve waited for a proper introduction, but sometimes…” She felt heat rise to her cheeks at her own boldness. “Sometimes the heart knows when something is important.”

"You know," he began, "most admirers content themselves with flowers. Or swooning. Swooning is traditional. But you had to make things interesting, didn't you?"

"I suppose I'm not very traditional." Elysia smiled, her heart fluttering as he approached. In the mirrors surrounding them, a thousand reflections of Astarion moved in perfect synchronisation. And Elysia’s reflection was there with him. 

They were a study in contrasts - Elysia in her simple dress and blouse seemed grounded and unadorned, like earth; Astarion, in his intricate attire, was otherworldly in his theatrical splendour. Yet somehow the juxtaposition felt right - as though her very plainness made his ethereal beauty more striking, while his presence lent her simplicity a kind of grace.

Her lips parted as the thought flitted through her mind: We look good together.

“Our dance earlier - I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“Few have. The magic of the festival is rather unique, wouldn’t you say?”

"And the way you commanded the stage..." Elysia began, but something in his posture made her pause. Even in the mirrors, she could see the slight tension in his shoulders.

"Command?" His laugh was almost musical. “Darling, I merely... suggest. Guide. Though speaking of guidance..." His eyes darted again to the shadows behind her, quick as a heartbeat. "You realise, of course, that I'm being remarkably generous about this whole affair. Most who find their way backstage discover a far less..." Another touch of his collar. "...accommodating reception."

Elysia’s pulse steadied, her smile turning faintly knowing. Of course, he had to maintain this necessary pretence - charm wrapped in formality, words dipped in grace. It wasn’t for her benefit, not truly. After all, what would the others think if they knew he'd invited someone backstage? No, these little warnings were just another performance, meant for any eyes that might be watching. Beneath it all she could feel it - something unspoken.

"I know this is a little unconventional…” 

"Unconventional? What a delicate way to phrase it. You do have quite the gift for making impropriety sound almost charming."

Elysia’s smile faltered as she met his gaze. “I just thought…” Her voice softened, the words catching like a hesitant breath. “I thought you wanted me to find you. It– it felt like I had to.”

Why? The question rose sharp and sudden in her mind. The urgency that had drawn her here felt familiar somehow, like an old song played in a different key.

“And here I thought I was the one with a penchant for dramatics,” Astarion said. “You give me far too much credit, my dear.”

His words were laced with humour, yet, he hadn’t denied it. The pull she’d felt couldn’t have been imagined. It was too strong, too undeniable. Surely he had wanted her to find him. Surely he’d left some trace, some sign meant just for her.

Hadn’t he?

Her lips parted, but the words she wanted to say dissolved before they could take shape. She glanced away, her gaze catching on the mirrors around them. Her reflection stared back infinitely, as though mocking her uncertainty.

And Astarion… there was something tight in the way he held himself now, like a performer who'd spotted a crack in their stage.

"Come, darling. Let’s not tempt fate by lingering here any longer. You’ve already wandered somewhere terribly dangerous.”

He took a step closer, his presence commanding her attention as though he’d physically pulled her from her thoughts.

That silken voice. 

That perfect presence. 

He's so close.

Her thoughts - those pesky doubts - scattered like startled birds.

He offered her his arm, a gesture so effortlessly charming that it made her heart flutter. 

He was right. 

Of course, he was right. 

There was nothing for her here. 

Only him.

And so she followed.

She hesitated for only a moment before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. His closeness brought with it a scent she hadn't noticed before - herbal and bright, with citrus and the faintest hint of something darker, richer; elegant as everything else about him. The kind of scent that made you want to lean closer, to search for its source. It took all her composure not to do exactly that.

"Consider this a gift. My generosity in exchange for your… discretion.”

He paused at the room’s threshold, glancing as though expecting something to appear from the shadows. “Shall we? The night market is particularly enchanting at this hour. All manner of delights to distract from more... dangerous pursuits."

"The night market?" Something about his insistence made her heart beat faster. 

The dim lantern light flickered as he escorted her through winding corridors, throwing his silhouette into sharp relief against the shadows.

"Oh, the things you'll see there," he continued, speaking faster. "Delicacies that would make your finest confectioners weep. Treasures that would make merchants' hearts stop. All manner of pretty little diversions. Much more interesting than these tired old backrooms.”

His steps were swift. Hasty.

Elysia fought to keep pace.

“And of course,” he said suddenly, his voice carrying a cheerfulness that teetered on the edge of too bright, “there’s a spectacular display of silks at one of the stalls. Ah, you’d adore them - exquisite craftsmanship, really, though I must admit I’ve never been terribly partial to magenta myself.”

The sounds of laughter and music drew closer. 

He glanced at her briefly, his eyes catching the light before darting back ahead. “Oh, and Dalyria with her card readings, the truths she reveals are quite– ah, but did I mention the night market?”

“You did.”

“Well, it bears repeating,” he replied too quickly. “Because it truly is a marvel. So much to see. So much to enjoy.”

The cane in his free hand tapped out a rhythm that didn't quite match his steps.

“Perfectly harmless, of course,” he added, his gaze darting briefly to the shadows behind them, before he turned back to her with another dazzling smile.

They emerged from behind the heavy curtains into the festival proper, where the eternal twilight cast everything in soft, dreamy hues. Something about the change in lighting made the shadows under his eyes more pronounced – had those been there during the performance?

"There now," Astarion said. His fingers found his collar one final time before dropping away. "Isn't this better? All the wonder, none of the... complications. Though do remember, darling - you now owe me quite the favour."

"Will I see you again?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Astarion stilled for the briefest moment, his smile frozen in place. Then he laughed.

"Oh, darling, the festival has a way of bringing people together, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t fret too much about when or how."

His answer wasn’t what she wanted, and something in her bristled. "That’s not what I meant," she said. "I think… I think I need to see you again."

That made him pause, his eyes catching hers. There was something almost imperceptible in his gaze - whether it was curiosity or resignation, Elysia couldn’t tell.

"Need is such a dangerous word," he murmured, tilting his head just slightly. "You sound so certain, yet you hardly know me."

"But I do..."

Did she? The thought disappeared as quickly as it came.

"... I feel like I do," she continued, looking to her feet.

"Do you, now?" he asked, his voice soft, almost indulgent. “What is it you think you see in me?”

“I…”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he closed the space between them in an instant. He reached out, his fingers brushing her chin, tilting her head so she was forced to meet his gaze. Her breath caught, the world narrowing until there was only him.

He leaned in, his gaze holding her captive. “Or perhaps you don’t see at all. Perhaps there’s something else you want.” His hold on her jaw firmed for a moment. “Ah. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”

The words hit her like a physical blow. Her chest tightened, heat rising to her cheeks as she struggled to find her voice, but it was useless.

He held her gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

But then he sighed.

"I thought so," he said quietly, almost to himself. "They always do."

He stepped back, his hand falling away.

"You’re bold, love," Astarion said at last. "It’s a charming trait, truly. But sometimes boldness gets people hurt."

"I’m not afraid.” Elysia held his gaze as steadily as she could muster.

"Of course you’re not," he replied, his smile broadening slightly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Fear rarely has a place here. It’s part of the magic, you see. But magic is just smoke and mirrors, isn’t it? It’s the truth underneath that tends to cut."

She felt the weight of his words but couldn’t fully grasp their meaning. His presence seemed to drown out everything else.

"The festival is a place for dreams, my dear," he said, taking a step back and sweeping into a graceful bow. "Don’t waste yours chasing shadows."

And then he was gone. The ripple of velvet curtains was the only trace of his departure as he returned to the shadows of the Big Top.

Elysia was alone.

The festival’s brilliance seemed to dim in his absence, its colours muted, its magic just a little less potent.

The crowd moved around her, their faces alight with joy and wonder, yet, with the Ringmaster gone, she felt curiously untethered. She glanced up at the sky, expecting some shift in its eternal dusk, but it remained unchanged. The colours of twilight bled together seamlessly, the horizon a perpetual liminal space between day and night.

Just how much time had passed?

A flicker of movement at the edge of Elysia’s vision caught her attention. She turned her head - an elderly woman brushed past her, a golden locket swinging from her neck.

Elysia blinked, confusion blooming in her chest. She looked strangely familiar.

The realisation came slowly. She had seen this woman before - on the journey to the festival. In the carriage. But the details of that memory felt slippery, like trying to grasp water in her hands. The more she reached for it, the more it eluded her.

Her movements were strange, almost mechanical, as though her body remembered how to walk but her mind had forgotten why. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, and her lips moved soundlessly.

Elysia’s heart stirred with unease. She didn’t know why, but the sight of the woman set her teeth on edge. She couldn’t name the feeling, only that it was urgent and wrong. Her instincts flared, urging her to follow, even as another part of her hesitated.

It doesn’t matter. She’s not your concern.

No, Elysia thought. That’s not right, is it?

Elysia’s steps moved before she could think, her feet carrying her toward the woman. She didn’t know what she hoped to accomplish. But the woman needed help. Elysia didn’t know how she knew that - she didn’t know much of anything anymore - but the certainty burned fiercely in her chest.

“Excuse me! Miss?” she called. “Wait, please!”

The woman didn’t respond.

Elysia pushed through the thinning crowd. The further she followed, the harder it became to focus. It was like wading through molasses, her thoughts sticky and sluggish, her body pulling toward retreat.

The woman turned down a dim, narrow path that branched away from the bright stalls. Elysia froze at its threshold. The glow of the festival barely reached this place, its light casting weak, flickering shadows that clung to the walls like cobwebs. Something about this place felt hidden. Forbidden.

But the woman was already disappearing into its depths.

“Wait!” Elysia called again, stepping onto the path despite the gnawing unease in her chest.

Go back. It’s not your ti–

No. She’s unwell.

Her legs kept moving. Her pulse raced. It thrummed in her ears as she quickened her pace.

The path twisted unpredictably, narrowing with every turn. The vibrant energy of the festival dimmed further with each step, the laughter and music fading into a distant hum. The air smelled stale, yet sickly-sweet.

A glint caught Elysia’s eye.

The locket around the woman’s neck caught the light as it tumbled to the ground. She didn’t seem to notice.

Elysia bent to retrieve the locket, its metal surprisingly cold against her palm. When she looked up again, the woman was already disappearing down a narrow corridor she hadn't noticed before - a space between tents that seemed to fold in on itself, as though reality had developed a crease.

"Wait!" She started forward, locket clutched tight. "Please, your–"

The passage seemed to narrow as she followed, the walls of fabric pressing in until she had to turn sideways to continue. Each step forward made her heart beat faster, a creeping anxiety that whispered she should turn back, return to the lights and music and…

The thought slipped away as she caught sight of something ahead - not the woman, but a glint of light where there shouldn't be any. A broken mirror propped against what might have been a wall, its surface reflecting impossibly deep shadows. Something about its angle seemed wrong, as though it were reflecting a space that didn't exist.

She reached out, meaning only to steady herself against its frame.

But then her hand went through.

And then, she was tumbling.

The fall lasted both forever and no time at all.

Darkness rushed past her like silk against her skin. Stars wheeled overhead, though there was no sky - only the endless sensation of tumbling through space. The air grew thick, sweet, then suddenly thin, as though she were passing through layers of different worlds.

But then she landed as though caught by unseen hands, placed in a world that was eerily still.

When she stood, she found herself in a sprawling room filled with broken reflections. Mirrors upon mirrors. But they were broken, fractured, warped, split into jagged shards.

She moved through the space carefully, each step stirring motes of dust.

Around her lay forgotten remnants of the festival - tattered banners drooping limply from hooks and, scattered like silent witnesses, old stuffed animals. Two of them caught her eye. Two foxes, one bound tightly in rusted shackles. It seemed so small, its fur faded to a dull grey. The second fox lay unshackled, its chains broken and discarded at its feet. But it was no better off. Its seams were split, its stuffing spilling in soft piles onto the floor.

Her gaze flicked back to the rippling mirror she had stepped through. Unlike the others, it was untouched by age or damage, its liquid-like surface shimmering faintly in the dim light.

The air felt… different here. Clearer. Like breaking the surface after being underwater for too long - that first gasp that makes you realise how thick the water had been. Like waking from a dream you can't quite remember.

Like… shattering an illusion.

She took a step back. The clarity struck her like ice water. She could think here. The enormity of it made her stomach twist. What had been clouding her mind before? And why did the thought of returning to that haze terrify her as much as it tempted her?

Elysia pressed a hand to her heart, desperately trying to will away that ache that lingered in her chest.

Looking up, she saw her reflection watching her, the fractured edges of the mirrors around it splintering her image into countless fragments. Some stared back with clarity, others with a dazed, almost blissful expression. She reached out toward the nearest shard, then stopped herself, her hand trembling.

‘Lose yourself’…? She recalled Astarion’s words.

The foxes seemed to watch her in silence.

Astarion looked at his reflection in the mirror.

The Ringmaster stared back.

Isn't it funny how, with all these reflections, you can never truly see yourself?

He tilted his head slightly, studying the masked man before him. The sweep of his silver hair, the gleam of his skin, the curve of his lips - all perfect.

As they should be.

He sighed and allowed his gaze to drop, breaking the spell of his own stare.

He was alone. 

As he should be.

His eyes fell to his hands. They rested on the dressing table, pale fingers curling loosely around the carved wood. Such pretty lies they weaved tonight.

The silence of the room pressed against his ears, but he welcomed it.

It was better this way.

No expectations. No deceptions.

His hands tightened on the table.

The sound came softly at first. A faint jingling. Like the rattling of bones.

His stomach twisted.

No.

It wasn't his turn.

The sound grew louder, steady and deliberate. The delicate chime of something unnatural.

It can't be my turn.

Mist began to coil at his feet, swirling around his boots. The sickly-sweet scent of it clung to the air.

He'd done the right thing. He'd kept his smile, he’d played his part.

As he always should.

The jingling stopped.

He willed his face into stillness, smooth and unreadable.

A new sound emerged, sharp and distinct.

Tap.

Pause.

Tap.

Pause.

Claws against wood. They tapped slowly against the wooden door frame behind him.

Astarion raised his head slowly, forcing himself to meet his reflection once more.

The Ringmaster. Perfectly composed. Perfectly in control.

A thousand masks, a thousand lies, and somewhere beneath them all, a scream that never ended.

But, in his periphery, he saw him.

Standing in the doorway, motionless, bathed in shadow.

Watching him.

Smiling.

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Masterlist can be found here!

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Evergreen: Chapter 1

You (Atriss) are an elf sorcerer, who somehow ended up with a tadpole in your brain. After having met multiple companions, they take on the biggest journey of their lives to fight the evil energy behind their capture and looming transformation. All the while, you fall for a vampiric elf, completely changing your life, and your heart.

This is the first chapter of Evergreen.

Pairings: Astarion x original female character (but still using "you"), among others down the road

Warnings: none. There will eventually be hurt/comfort, smut, angst, fluff, etc. Each chapter will have their own warning. The entire story is 18+ so MINORS DNI!

Word Count: 1.96k

A/N: This is my first multi-chapter fic, and I am so excited to write it for you all! Please note this will be a SLOW BURN romance, filled with lots of emotions and feelings! Enemies to lovers. Buckle up, it's gonna be quite the journey.

The only thing you remembered after the Nautiloid, funnily enough, was the sun.

It felt so wonderful on your skin, tickling you awake slowly. With your eyes still closed, and a sense of confusion in your head, you imagined yourself on a tropical beach somewhere...perhaps, you had accidentally dozed off for an early-afternoon nap. The sun warmed your cheeks, causing you to sigh contently, wrapped in the warm embrace of nature...the cherry on top were the birds singing some ways away.

Until your brain had snapped you back to reality.

Soon, the memory of the capture - you on your way home late one night in Baldur's Gate - and your forced stay on the Nautiloid came crashing back to you. Your eyes popped open and you immediately sat up, a wave of nausea induced by the pain running through your body. Clutching your stomach, you leaned over slightly, ready to expel the bile gathering in your stomach. How funny that mere moments before, you had subconsciously tricked yourself into thinking you were on some sort of vacation, when in reality, you were puking your guts up and fighting a dizzy spell.

Slowly standing up - with the help of the giant rock you were leaning against - you took in her surroundings. A small, almost sorry excuse for a beach, littered with bodies, and said bodies' belongings. You turned and saw the Nautiloid behind, parts engulfed in flames. The once feel-good sun was now causing a pounding headache and you winced from the pain, slowly walking around the beach.

"Hello?" You called, your voice raspy and hoarse, "Is anyone here alive?"

The only sounds that met you back were the sounds of flames and creaking metal. You took inventory of her person - completely devoid of all your belongings.

Well, fuck.

Your groaned and continued to walk, trying not to look at the dead bodies littering the beach.

Okay, you thought, trying to calm your breathing, I was captured by mind flayers and forced upon their ship. I have a tadpole in my brain. Their ship...crashed? And landed here. And I somehow...survived?

How in the hell did I do that?

As you continued down the beach, you noticed something glittering in the sand next to a body...gold. Pursing your lips together, you stopped at the body and thought for a moment.

"I'm probably going to need some of that..." You said out loud quietly. Even though there was no one around you - no one alive, anyway - you still looked behind yourself, making sure no one was watching. You snatched the few gold coins scattered around the body and put them in the pocket of your tattered pants. While reaching for the gold, you noticed the body had a dagger attached to a holster. You sighed, quickly reaching for the dagger while trying to somehow not touch the corpse you were currently looting.

"Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me." You said pleadingly to no one in particular. It wasn't the first time you had looted a corpse - after all, you had been on plenty of adventures - but you tried not to make a habit of it if you could.

After you had attached the dagger in its holster to your body, you continued up the beach, avoiding the crash in case any of the mind flayers somehow had survived. You were fairly certain you would be able to fight them, but at this current moment you were a little worse for wear, and truly wanted to find some sort of town or village. Passing by a fishing boat in a small dock, a flash of hope struck you - maybe you would luck out, after all.

After about an hour of walking, and still not meeting a living soul, you heard voices in the path ahead. Something along the lines of arguing. Quickly, you ducked into the nearest bush in case of enemies - you stayed completely still so you could hear their conversation.

"And I'm just telling you that this is a waste of our time - we shouldn't be helping a group of random Tieflings...we should be trying to figure out how to get these damned tadpoles out of our brains!" A voice in frustration, it's sound of a lyrical lilt.

Tadpoles! You thought, almost jumping out of the bush, They must be survivors of the crash! I'm not the only one.

"I agree with Astarion - this isn't our problem. And we shouldn't be wasting our time." Another voice spoke. She sounded annoyed, her words cutting and sharp.

More words were spoken, but they were mumbled. Leaning a bit forward out of the bush, you tried to get into a better position for hearing the argument.

"But as we were told before, this druid, Halsin, may be able to help us," A third voice - deep and melodic - said, almost trying to reason with the other two, "With Wyll and Karlach on our side now, I think we have a fair shot of taking on this goblin camp, rescuing Halsin, and therefore potentially getting these tadpoles out!"

More grumbling happened as you leaned forward just a bit more to hear it. Steadying your footing, you scooted a bit closer to the conversation.

"Yeah, that sounds like a fine idea! Besides, what do you have against us tieflings, you two?!" A booming voice rose, laughter following it.

"Darling, I'm not against tieflings, but-"

Soon you realized you couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. Inching forward ever so slightly, you grumbled. Suddenly, you lost your footing, you foot slipping under you, and sending you tumbling out of the bush with a loud THUMP!

And straight in front of the group arguing.

Immediately the group of five shouted and drew their weapons, pointed at you. You shrieked and jumped up, throwing your hands in the air.

"I come in peace, I promise!" You shouted, backing up.

"Says the istik who jumped out of a bush, chk!" A githyanki woman said, her sword closing in your throat, "Speak, or lose your head."

"Lae'zel, enough. Give her some breathing room," The deep voice from earlier spoke. It came from a handsome man, with flowing brown hair and purple robes, "Let's hear her out before we decide to end her life."

"Yes, that is a fantastic idea!" You said, trying to catch your breath. You cleared your throat, trying to lower the adrenaline coursing through your body, "Um...hello?" You offered, trying to look all of them in the eye.

The group was a weird mix - a devilish-looking tiefling, a fair haired elf, two humans, a githyanki, and a heavily clad half elf all stood before you expectantly. The half elf crossed her arms impatiently.

"Out with it, we don't have all day."

Oh, big surprise - she was the annoyed one from earlier.

"My name is Atriss," You offered, "I was on the Nautiloid...I also have a tadpole...I heard you mention it earlier?" The mention of the tadpole made the party readjust themselves in some way. When no one spoke, you kept going, "I'm just...trying to find some lodging. And to figure out what happened to me."

"Well, you're probably going to want to find a cure for this tadpole before you find lodging," The devilish-looking tiefling said, "Apparently those things are what turn you into a mind flayer, so you should probably work on that, first."

A wave of panic washed over you, "...I'm going to turn into a mind flayer?"

"Ah, do not panic...not yet," The brown haired man said, "Apparently, it should have happened already, and it...obviously hasn't. So, we seem to be safe...for now."

You nodded slowly, looking at the man, who, for whatever reason, was smiling as he talked about becoming a mind flayer.

"Where are you from, Atriss?" The second human man asked.

"Baldur's Gate...are we close to there?"

The elf and half elf laughed, almost a snicker. You looked at the elf and narrowed your eyes - something about him was a little off.

"Darling, we aren't even close," He spoke, the lyrical lilt from earlier, "But you're in luck, because that's where some of us are trying to get back to, as well."

"Yeah, soldier! Stick with us and we'll go on an adventure together!" The tiefling said, punching her fist in the air, "But first, we have some goblins to slay."

"What Karlach means is, we are going to find someone to take these tadpoles out of our heads. But in the meantime, there seem to be some...obstacles we must defeat first." The brown haired human said. Suddenly, he took a step forward and bowed slightly, "I'm Gale. Wizard extraordinaire."

"Oh, okay-"

"This is Karlach, like I mentioned earlier. And that is Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and finally, Astarion." Gale pointed to each person with their introduction and I nodded to all of them, my gaze resting on Astarion.

His hair was a fair shade of silver, and his seemingly-perpetual smirk was quite enticing. His eyes were an odd shade of red...you had never seen that before. Standing confidently, you noticed him sizing you up as you stood there, taking in the group.

"Can I help you with something?" You asked him, raising your eyebrows. His body stayed still as a statue.

"Whatever do you mean, darling?" He retorted.

"Well, it just seems that you have a vast interest in me, and I was wondering what I could do in order to squash your interest." You jutted your chin out a bit, crossing your arms. Karlach whistled and slapped Astarion's shoulders from behind.

"Seems you've got some competition in the Sassy Department, Astarion!" She said, cackling wildly. Wyll joined in on her laughter, and you could see a smirk playing on Gale and Shadowheart's lips. Lae'zel stood frowning.

Astarion did a quick once over on your body before turning on his heels, taking off, "If we want to try and fight these damned goblins sometime soon, then we should get going." He said to no one in particular. One by one, the group followed suit, Karlach making eye contact with you and rolling her eyes before falling in line with you.

"Don't worry, soldier. That's a warm welcome if I've ever seen one!" She said, "Welcome to the squad! Nice to have another personality on board - don't tell her, but Lae'zel's brooding was becoming a bit too much for me." Her voice lowered so no one else can hear.

"I can already tell she's the 'warm and welcoming' type." You said back. Karlach snickered.

"First things first, we must head back to the grove so we can get a bag of holding and supplies for Atriss," Wyll commanded at the front of the group, "Atriss, do you have any gold?"

"Um..." You absentmindedly put your hand in your pants pockets, fingering the 5 pieces of gold you had stolen from the corpse, "...not enough." You said, ashamed. You watched Astarion and Shadowheart roll their eyes and look at each other. A blush rose over your cheeks - what was it about you that made Astarion dislike you already?

"No worries...I can work something out once we arrive." Wyll said, offering you a kind smile, "Let's get going...we'll gather some more information from Zevlor this evening, prepare for our departure, and set off first thing tomorrow. Sound good?"

The group murmured their agreements, as they took off towards the Tiefling Grove, the fact of the matter hit you: you were now embedded in a journey that, from the looks of it, was about to be very long, very dangerous, and very life-changing.

You swallowed your fear, trying to keep up with the rest of the group.

After all, what else was there to do?

---

First chapter of "Evergreen"! This was a bit more of a build-up...I know there wasn't almost any Astarion/Atriss, but I promise it's coming!

As always, it means the world to me if you liked/commented/reblogged...it especially helps me know that you all are enjoying it!

[vixencrawley]

A Price To Pay |•Dark!Ominis Gaunt x Stripper!Mc

Chapter 1: On My Feet

Summary: 5 years after graduating from Hogwarts, Ominis Gaunt has shocked the ministry by taking over the Gaunt household, inheriting every single power that the famous family has from his brother, changing in ways Mc doesn't realize; Mc's prestigious family has gone into ruin after her father's arrest and her little sister developing a serious illness. Mc was desperate to get cash to get her sister back into a hospital, she thought maybe she could "borrow" some money from her dearest friend Ominis. Mc will soon find out that the new and improved Gaunt will take back what's supposed to be his no matter what it takes.

Genre: Dark Romance, Angst, Smutty

Word Count: 2,546k

Author's Note: This is my first time writing fanfiction so please be kind and send helpful critisim, i must warn the readers that this is a dark romance ff so please do not read if you are uncomfortable with it. and no smut yet thats for the next chapter hehehe.

BE. GONE. MINORS.

Warning: 18+, Kidnapping, Robbery, Dying, Stockholm Syndrome, Rough Sex, Master kink, explicit sexual content, aged-up characters, love triangle? Eye gouging, explicit dancing 

Footsteps collide with the muddy waters scattered around the dark street. I pant heavily as I try to run as fast as a scared fox, sharp edges of a gold plated porcelain plate dug through my skin yet I ignored the pain.

Sounds of my dark clock harmonized with the stomps of countless horses "Capture her!" yelled by a guard drawing their wands towards the running figure .

My skin shivered from the cold unforgivable air. I knew I shouldn't have stolen from the gaunts but this is the only way I could save her, Ominis will understand..right? Turning my heel to a secluded alleyway a wall began to slowly appear from the ground. I quickly grabbed onto a pile of boxes, threw them in the ground creating a quick makeshift ramp.

Without hesitation I ran towards the crowded pub across the street. I hid behind a few pedestrians and slipped through the backdoor. I dropped the sack of stolen items I was holding and quickly grabbed the bag hidden behind a few garbage bins, moving the stolen items in it. 

Shuffling around my pockets to pull out two veils of polyjuice potion. I saw a harmless sleeping homeless person and dosed the polyjuice potion onto them. Having them transform as a version of me, with a heavy heart I regrettably leave the homeless person posing as me to distract the guards who were following me. 

I calmly walked towards an alley while I drank the remaining polyjuice potion. Turning into a fine gentleman, my hair turning gray, facial hair starts to grow above my lip. I took off my cloak revealing a more high class three piece suit, no one suspects a man. 

Walking down the streets with the confidence of an innocent man as I hear guards capturing the 'suspect' on the abandoned alleyway. I look back ensuring myself that they would let the man go as soon they figured out they were actually innocent. 'they would be fine, I need to do this for Alice' 

__________________________________

Knockturn Alley became my home. No matter how dangerous it may be it was a place that unseemly turned into something familiar. I used to remember coming here with another of my old friends, Sebastian Sallow, he would always claim to protect me from the wandering eyes of passersby. Oh how much I missed the sense of safety, quickly walking to an almost rundown apartment building. 

Unlocking the door and opening it to see my younger sister, Alice making tea. Her body is weak from this muggle illness called cancer, her hair falling like a leaf in the autumn season. 

Small single bedroom with a few kitchen items on the west side of the room. It was lifeless, something I'm sure Alice isn't used to but was our home, it was the only thing i could afford with a hectic schedule.

I dropped my bag, quickly rushing towards her side "Alice, I told you not to strain your body didn't I?" I calmly said as I led her back to the one bed on the apartment floor. "I know sister.. I just thought I could make you some breakfast today" Alice coughed as she laid down on the bed. 

"You shouldn't worry about those things Alice" pulling the blankets over her fragile shivering body "If I'm not worried about such things who would sister?" She commented, causing me to smile from the corners of my mouth. 

"I can handle myself Alice, I'm your great big sister after all" I stretched my arm out flexing it, showing my little sister how strong her big sister is. She giggled at my gesture but her smile quickly faded. "Are you working late again?" 

It was hard enough to support the both of us after our father was convicted through the crimes of treason. Taking all of my family's wealth as compensation from all the lives he scammed away, I know leaving Alice alone in the rundown apartment wasn't the best idea but it was the only one I could afford…for now.’Getting her back to St. Mungos is my first priority’

Getting up from the floor I walk towards the kitchen, if you can call it that. I picked up the bag I threw on the ground and moved it to the dirty counter. 

"Unfortunately, yes.. but don't worry after my shift we'll be able to have enough for you to be back in St. Mungos for a couple of months and after you get better I'll take you to the carnival" I announced as I finished making breakfast from the unfinished food Alice created earlier.

I hear my sister squeal in excitement. She would always tell me she wanted to go to that carnival around the corner of Knockturn Alley. With the remaining cash that should be left after I give it to Eugene. 

As soon as I finished making breakfast I got two plates and set a portion for me and Alice. Intentionally making Alice's portion much bigger than mine, placing Alice's plate in front of her. She immediately started eating her breakfast.

"Did you get a promotion in your waitress job,sister?" Alice asked full of curiosity, I took a deep breath. It's hard to lie to my sister. I know she wouldn't approve of me being an exotic dancer or even a thief but it's the only way I could pay for her expensive care at St. Mungus not to mention the countless potions. 

"Yeah so you have nothing to worry about" I smiled towards her hoping she wouldn't push more questions. "Oh Merlin! I forgot to tell you something sister" she weakly grabbed a letter that was hidden inside the bedside drawer. 

"An owl came by earlier and left this letter, it was addressed to you" she handed me the letter, it was pristine it looked like it was written with the fanciest paper anyone could afford. I turned the envelope and a certain word got my attention. 

'Gaunt' "It's from the Gaunts, I think it's from Ominis, your best friend, sister!" Alice said excitedly but all I could feel was horror, maybe it was a mistake I made sure he wouldn't recognize me! 

"I missed Ominis sister! Do you remember when he would always give me sweets when his family used to visit us in London!" My sister reminisced about Ominis. I didn't want to tell her how much the gaunt family turned their back on us when father was imprisoned for treason. 

"Yeah I missed Ominis too.." I whispered as I got up to hide the envelope in the closet. 

Ominis Gaunt was my best friend, someone who I could play violin as he played piano, someone who I could sneak out of the bedroom to grab snacks in the kitchen, someone who would tutor me in charms class, or someone who would comfort you after Sebastian ran away.

“Ominis! Guess what I just found in the garden?” I said with a child-like smile hiding a small item behind my back. I knew ominous couldn't see but i still wanted it to be a surprise “Could it perhaps be another grimes fairy tale book?” Ominis proclaimed with a small smirk forming in the corner of his mouth, his head never leaving the book he held. “Nope! Guess again!” I shook my head, swaying my body weight back and forth as I looked down at my yellow gown.

Slowly looking up at young Ominis who wore a green plaid vest with a white beige linen shirt paired with a black trousers. He looked rather dashing in outerwear. He dropped the braille book on top of the table in front of his chair. Ominis took a deep breath and creased his chin “Ah ha! Could it be a pastry?” He declared with a proud smile.

“Nope! Do you want me to tell you?” I giggled at Ominis who hadn't guessed the item I was holding behind my back. He smiled defeatingly and looked at my general direction “ Okay fine please tell me what it is”. “Hold out your hand” I said as I reached for his tiny hands, he willingly reached for mine as well; gently opening his palms I placed a very delicate daisy onto it “It's a daisy! I found it in the backside of the garden!”

Gently guiding his fingers to ‘see’ the flower “Sadly there was only one i couldn't find a field of them! I heard from our muggle servant that in the  muggle world there is a field of daisies that exists in the countryside!”  Sitting next to his legs I placed my head on his lap.I so badly wanted to see a field of daisies..Do you think Hogwarts has a field of daisies?” I questioned him hoping he would answer yes “I don't think hogwarts has a field of daisies,little dove”

I pouted my bottom lip, knowing deep down I wouldn't be able to see a field of daisies ``urgh”. Ominis gently patted my head “Don't worry i promise you’ll see a field of daisies, i'll make sure you’ll see a plentiful” that statement alone still made me sad i was able to see a field of daisies what about Ominis? Disheartened, I gazed upon Ominis; he looked really handsome with his foggy blue eyes. “I don't want to see a field of daisies anymore”

“How so?” He asked with curiosity “Well if i can see a field of daisies then you wouldn't! I wanna experience that with you ominis!” He caressed my cheeks,feeling his warmth calmed  me in a way I couldn't describe. “ Its okay, i know without my sight im not able to experience things with you but as long as i am with you i am perfectly fine with it” 

I would be lying if i haven't said that ominis’s words often leave me blushing red. He let go of my cheeks and grabbed his want in his pockets and did a unfamiliar spell “Presavation Acentio!” He announced as he flicked and whipped his wand  casting an invisible cast around the single daisy. I stared at it in awe. “What spell did you just use?And where did you learn that Omi?” He giggled at my curiosity “Just some books i had been reading in preparation for my first year in hogwarts”

Sadly, I remembered that ominis would have to leave to attend Hogwarts in a few months; I wouldn't be able to play with him. “It's a preservation spell you can keep the daisy for decades” He placed it on the palm of my hands. I shook my head and got up to his level “No! You should keep it! You're leaving for Hogwarts and you don't have anything to remember me by!” I inserted the daisy in his dress pocket in his vest “When you go to Hogwarts I want you to remember me every time you see a daisy”.

Ominis chuckled at my gestures and grabbed my hand, he kissed the back of my hand “I couldn't possibly forget someone like you my little dove, but if you wished i will remember you as i smell a hint of daisy or even grazed upon one” I smiled proudly knowing ominis would remember be by a beautiful flower. 

__________________________________

After making sure my sister was well fed I quietly left and locked the apartment ensuring she wouldn't be able to wake up from me leaving so quickly. 

It was time for my shift at the pub, countless people flooded the place. It's surrounded by nobles who are dealing illegal crimes at the sideline, and obviously numerous drunkies who drink their lives' problems away. ‘How ignorant’. 

I sighed and entered the staffroom, changing into a laced corset with matching lace stockings. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder sending cold shivers down my spine. "Mc! There you are"  a enthusiastic tone said by the one and only Eugene O'Brien. 

"Well hello to you too Eugene" I said in a condescending tone towards him. "Don't be like that Mc, I'm the one helping you after all" he prompted his arm around my shoulder. 

Flinching from the sudden action I kept a straight face even if I was disgusted at his gesture, I know deep down he is not helping me with good intentions. But he is the only one who can get me jobs like a exotic dancer and even a thief at such short notice. 

I took a deep breath and avoided eye contact as he went on about a whore he banged. I clutched my chest trying to suppress my shaky hands. 

His laugh faded as he noticed my demeanor, he harshly grabbed my chin to face him "Don't give me that attitude Crawley! Remember the hand that feeds you" 

I looked up at him trying to look at his other features like his brown locks or that  scar across his lips. I know if I ever looked at him eye to eye he would sense my fear of him. He was right, Alice and I are only alive because he gave me a chance at numerous jobs. 

I nodded at his statement, my fingers trembled" I'm sorry Eugene.. I'm just on edge today..please forgive me.." I begged hoping he would let my unprofessional attitude go, legs felt weak as I tried to intimidate him back. 

He rashly let go of my chin, tossing me down on the ground. I stayed on the ground not wanting to look up at his tall figure. "You should be grateful I started a small conversation with a whore like you." He bent down and grabbed my hair, forcing me to look at him. 

"Where's the items I told you to steal?" I shakily pointed at the bag I came in a while ago, it is filled with the items I was instructed to grab. He let go my hair and snatched the bag "I'll get your share later slut"

I pant heavily frightened by his cruel actions towards me, I looked away trying to focus on the mold on the lockers instead of trying to suppress my panic at the situation. 

A knock was heard through the door and Eugene walked towards. I looked at the door's direction still avoiding eye contact, another staff member came and whispered something to Eugene and quickly left after. 

I reluctantly got up from the floor, even if my limbs slowly turned into jelly. Snapping his fingers, it rang in my ears and swiftly looked at Eugene's direction, I lowered my head not wanting to give him more reasons to get furious. 

"Mc! Get ready your regular Mr. Snake requested you" the mention of Mr. Snake somehow calmed my nerves, out of every regulars that had requested for me he had happened to be my favorite. 

He was a gentleman yet still carried a demanding aura. He would always request me and would often extend his time until my shift ends. "I understand I'll get ready"

"He's in the green room" Eugene commented as he left and headed towards his office, while looking through the bag. I swallowed the lump on my throat not realizing I was holding my breath. I opened my locker again and swiftly reapplied my makeup

tags: @littletealight @slootmagix @jakesully-sbabygirl @lizonzon @slytherinmodqueen @khamanix @belladorea @mehnotenoughtime @choccy-milky @cuffmeinblack @greedyforgarreth

[emilybahu]

Got a little something new for you!

Words: 1,927 | Rating: Teen and Up | Chapter: 1/1 | Part 1/3 in a series of one shots that I'm calling Quiet Mornings.

Snippet:

Eddie woke up slowly, confused momentarily, before taking in his surroundings and remembering that he slept at Buck’s loft last night. He listened to the sound of the rain falling outside as he stretched and turned in bed to find Buck’s side empty. He would be concerned by that fact if he hadn’t heard the sounds of Buck starting breakfast and music drifting softly upstairs from the kitchen. Eddie gave himself a few more minutes to wake up fully before slowly rolling out of bed, slipping on his sweatpants, and padding down the stairs. Once he reached the bottom, he just stopped and admired Buck for a moment, in all his shirtless glory, as he hummed and lightly swayed to the song that was playing. God, Eddie loves Buck so much…

Eddie walks farther through the apartment, making his way to his boyfriend. He sneaked up behind Buck and slid his arms around his waist, whispering, “Good morning, mi amor,” before kissing the soft spot behind his ear and hooking his chin over Buck’s shoulder.

Buck tensed for a moment, a reflexive response, before he relaxed into Eddie's embrace, his body melting into Eddie’s chest. He hummed in contentment as Eddie kissed him, then turned his head to press a soft kiss on Eddie's cheek. “Good morning, baby,” Buck murmurs. “How did you sleep?” he asks, returning to working on his pancakes.

“Mmmmm,” Eddie hummed into Buck’s shoulder, “pretty good until I woke up alone.”

“Well, you knew exactly where to find me; I didn’t go very far.” Buck lightly giggled.

Eddie huffed, “You went far enough,” before nuzzling his face into Buck’s neck and saying, “Besides, you’ve deprived me of my morning cuddles.”

Buck snickered. “Don’t worry, Eddie, you’ll be compensated for the missing cuddle time.”

“I sure do hope so!” Eddie said, leaving another small kiss on Buck’s jaw before pulling away.

Eddie unwrapped himself from Buck, going to prepare himself a cup of coffee. He leaned against the island's counter, watching Buck work as he held his mug with both hands, sipping his coffee. As much as Eddie loved spending time with Chris and enjoyed watching Chris and Buck’s dynamic change as his son ages, Eddie also cherished these quiet mornings alone with his boyfriend. As he contemplated this, Eddie closed his eyes so he didn’t see that Buck had finished the pancakes and was now smiling fondly at him.

“Have I ever told you,” Buck said, stepping into Eddie’s space, causing him to open his eyes as Buck placed his hands on his hips. “How gorgeous you are, baby?” he continued, pushing Eddie lightly against the counter.

Putting down his mug in favor of wrapping his arms around Buck’s shoulders, Eddie hummed, enjoying the feeling of Buck leaning on him, and said, “Yes, multiple times, if I remember correctly.” he paused, bringing a hand up to Buck’s cheek before continuing, “And I’d have to say the same to you cariño.”

[lustkillers]

LOVE & WAR !

PART I. the garden heist.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - clyde and you yearned for each other, but poison ivy and spider-man were mortal enemies.

┃ tags/warnings. ࿐ ❪ friends to lovers? yet enemies to lovers? a whole lot of crime fighting violence, fluff, angst, injuries, a whole lot of swearing, clyde/spider-man is a part of the sassy men apocalypse. ooc clyde?? ❫

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - spider-man!clyde x poison ivy!reader.

⊹₊ ⋆ note - this SUCKS and it was long overdue... might make this a multi-part series! if you do want it to be a multi-part series, please let me know!! requests are open as well :)

[ @cc-luvr , @amandayoungluvr , @insxghtt ]

YOU walked into the now closed botanical garden, your hands gliding on each leaf you passed by, bringing them life.

You had always loved the botanical gardens ever since you were a child. The smell of fresh flowers and the sun shining down through the trees filled you with contentment and peace. Everyone at school had joked that it was your favorite place in the world, but truth be told they weren’t far off.

That was until it went downhill.

After years of neglect, the garden was now overgrown and unkempt. The once thriving trees were swaying lifelessly in the wind, and the place that used to be filled with laughter had become desolate.

But you still loved it all the same. You felt drawn to this place like a moth to a flame. No matter what kind of state it was in, you felt connected.

You made your way through the once-beautiful gardens, trying to ignore all of the signs of neglect and disrepair. You stopped at each flowerbed and examined it carefully, noticing a small patch of forget-me-nots that were still blooming despite the lack of care they had received over the years.

You knelt down and ran your fingertips along the petals of one of the flowers, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. As you did so, a small white butterfly fluttered out from behind one of the other flowerbeds, hovering over you for what felt like forever before flying away.

It seemed like a sign to you - despite how neglected this place was, you knew that it had the potential to be beautiful again.

And you were going to make them pay.

"Hands up where I can see them!" A voice shouted from the darkness, only a bright light flashing at you. You slowly raised your arms, revealing the thicket of rosebuds you had gathered in your hands.

"What do you think you're doing here?" The now revealed officer asked.

You took a deep breath and spoke with confidence, "I'm here to save this garden from neglect."

The man chuckled before raising his gun, "You're trespassing, little lady."

You stood your ground, raising an eyebrow. "If you shoot me, that won't save the garden. Instead, I'm offering to help restore it to its former glory. You can let me do that instead, or else."

"Or else?" The officer leaned into his comm. "We've got an intruder here who claims to be capable of revitalizing this garden." He laughed. "I'm sure the Chief will get a kick out of this, now c'mon. I'm taking you in," he said, coming closer.

"You're not taking me anywhere," you smirked.

Suddenly, vines wrapped around the man, tightly gripping on his ankles and hoisting him upside down. "I need backup!" He yelled. You sneered as you stepped forward. "Who's so little now?" you said, using your abilities to whip each rosebud into full bloom.

"What is this?" The man gasped, awe-struck but frightened by the transformation.

"This is what comes from corrupting and exploiting nature," you replied with a menacing smile.

You glared at the officer as he cowered in front of you. "Now what?" He wheezed.

"Now," You said menacingly, "I'm going to start restoring the garden and you're going to stay out of my way."

"So... Do you grow weed? 'Cause that would be dope!" A new voice echoed through the garden, making you whip your head around towards the officer. However, no one was there.

You turned back, only being met with Spider-Man. "Hey Plant Girl," he said casually, hanging from above. You groaned, not to happy that Spider-Man had showed up and interrupted your revenge. You knew that would never work out in your favor.

"Oh great, it's you," You spat. "I suppose you've come to save the day."

Spider-Man then replied with a sly smirk, "It's what I do best." He quickly swung himself closer and closer towards you until he was face-to-face.

“Hey, is that actual plants as your suit? That’s sick!”

You frowned. “It’s not a suit. It’s part of my abilities, and it's none of your business!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, no need to get snippy! I was just wondering is all!”

His expression now turned serious as he continued on, "But if I were you, I'd think twice about taking on an enemy like me," He crossed his arms.

You scoff, "And why's that?"

He said simply, "Because I'm not someone you want to mess with."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress the smirk that was forming on your lips. "Is that supposed to intimidate me? Cause it's not really working," You crossed your arms and prepared for a fight.

"Did it work?" He smirked under his mask, raising an eyebrow.

You shook your head in disbelief and prepared to fight back. "Not even close," you said, scoffing.

You closed your fist, sharp tree branch jabbing him. He barely had time to react, as he quickly jumped back. You had hit him hard and you knew it, a satisfied smile creeping upon your lips.

He slowly shook his head and glared at you with confusion. "What did I do to deserve that?" He asked, pursing his lips together.

You rolled your eyes with a hint of amusement, "Are you serious?" You smirked, "You knew who I was and yet you still came here looking for a fight. What did you expect?" You mockingly laugh.

He shook his head, "I didn't come here to fight. I came here to protect the citizens."

You laughed again, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth. "Yeah right!" You scoffed and then pointed your finger at him menacingly.

"I don't need protecting, and I will do whatever it takes to protect myself and these plants!" You roared before launching yourself towards him in an attempt to hit him with your vines as he attempted to dodge out of the way.

He dodged your attack, flipping out of the way and landing on his feet. You barely had time to react before he charged towards you, a look of determination in his eyes. He punched you in the face and then kicked your stomach with enough force to make you stumble back.

"You're not getting away that easily," he said firmly as both of you continued to fight.

You and Spider-Man fought tirelessly, neither one of you ready to back down. You used your powers against him while he used his agility and strength against you. Despite all your best efforts, it seemed like he had the upper hand--that is until you finally managed to wrap some of your vines around his legs and trap him in place.

"I think we both know who the real winner is here," you said smugly as Spider-Man struggled to free himself from the vines.

"Game over." His hand extended, shooting a web towards your hands. The web covered your hands, trapping them and immobilizing you, your control over the plants letting both him and the officer go.

He gave you a couple blows, the last hit being at your face. With that hit alone, your mask fell off your face. You looked up and there he was, staring at you intently.

He knew who you were. And he knew your name.

"Y-You..." He said slowly, recognition filling his eyes.

You felt vulnerable, but yet a part of you felt some familiarity with the masked hero.

"So what now, Spider-Man?" you asked, a smirk beginning to appear on your face. You still hadn't moved from the spot and he had made no move to escort you away or handcuff you. It felt like there was something much more behind this whole exchange than just a battle between two enemies.

He was caught off guard, still staring at you with his hand gripping your outfit. Finally, he let go and stepped back.

"You give me your word that you won't cause any more destruction to the city, and I'll let you go," he said simply, crossing his arms against his chest.

You tilted your head, "Can't promise you that, Spidey." You smirked, flicking your wrist and tying him up with the vines again, now walking away.

Clyde watched as you walked away, his heart still beating faster. His crush was Poison Ivy.

"Shit."

[my-midnight-musings-xoxo]

Major spoilers for MadK!

---

We're returning to MadK, as promised. Makoto is one of my favorite manga characters, there's so much to him and I utterly adore the character writing in this story. I don't know if I've said this before but no one in MadK is a perfect victim, something I've noticed people expect, even subconsciously. Makoto is far from the perfect, even ideal victim if you view it in how people believe victims "should" appear. To refrain from a tangent, let's move on to his design!

(Laby has a great video essay on Jinx that dives into multiple topics including how Dan isn't viewed as a victim because he isn't a "real" victim, highly recommend it).

First the bolo tie. I've mentioned before how it represents J passing on his trauma. Still, in my research to find more symbolism for it I found it was appropriated by Westerners, specifically cowboys and ranchers because of course it was, leading to its worldwide fame. If you want to learn more, Palms Trading Company has an article on its history. I'm going to view the passing of it on to Makoto as an allegory, but that doesn't mean we're finished!

Kiernan's wings. In Japanese culture dragons don't fly as often as Chinese ones do hence they're depicted more serpent-like. I don't believe I'm qualified to deep dive into the symbolism through a cultural lens, so I'll analyze through a story and characters lens.

An interaction that stuck with me after I finished reading was Makoto confronting Kiernan about his..infatuation turned love (this is in Vol 3 Chapter 17 towards the end). Makoto says outright, "I belong to him, which is what makes me so attractive to you. You know you'll never make me yours. You pine. You feel safe." Kiernan partly agrees, thinking that now it's more like being with J himself. Both fail to gain what they truly want from each other, they want J through the other. Kiernan never achieves getting J, but Makoto does at the very end, becoming him only worsens this fate. Taking the wings from someone as obsessed with J as he is serves to contribute to figuratively and literally reaching J. In Vol 2 Chapter 12 after Makoto takes Kiernan's wings he flies up to J, along their wings spread out it's clear he's slowly but surely climbing up to J's position. He asserts he's not going to become a demon like he wants, despite him doing just that. Destroying himself entirely to mold himself into exactly what J wanted, what he was.

The werewolf teeth aren't talked about often, but I find them interesting. Werewolves aren't really a part of Japanese mythology, so I'll be analyzing this generally. They symbolize the duality of humanity and primality, along with repressed desires and the struggle with said desires. It's usually a curse that can be dealt with through a silver bullet. Through some skimming, apparently, that's a myth? Silver represents purity, protection, and along with other things it's associated with the moon. Werewolves turn beneath a full moon. Overall the moon is a symbol of emotion, with full moons symbolizing heightened emotions, completion, and transformation. The sun and moon are direct opposites in this position, adding to the dichotomy of werewolves.

J and Makoto reflect and oppose each other perfectly. Both are clearly victims, both destroyed by decades (even centuries) of suffering, and both reflect their inner child. Both wanted to be truly loved. In a way, they found each other. In J's case, he shed his facade, revealing a lonely child who simply wanted love, the very notion distorted from years of abuse, even from Kiernan, someone who was supposed to love him. We get little information about their relationship, and I know they're demons, but it's still tragic. Makoto lost himself the way J did, becoming nobody.

This manga is wonderful and has endless content to analyze and muse about! The day I can hold it in my hands I'll be over the moon, I just don't want to have to explain to my parents what depravity I've bought ehe.

I hope this was sufficient, or at least interesting to read. Not quite sure what I'll muse about next. I have a draft about MadK and how it'd function as a musical, unfortunately I have next to none musical theater knowledge so that probably won't be posted for a while. Maybe I'll muse over certain scenes I'd like in MadK.

Hope to post this weekend, no promises <3

[topaz-carbuncle]

OC in 15: Valerie Michaelis

rules: share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you for the tag @crownleys! <3

I have been missing Val and Nate a lot recently, so it's been fun to go through my older stuff for this, especially as she's the OC who got the most love so far in terms of written dialogue!

Dialogue from posted works will be marked with " <x>"!

1: "Nate...I'm sorry, but I couldn't just sit and hide while you got hurt, especially not because of me. I might not be anything special, like you four are, but do you think I could bear to stand by and watch you get hurt either? I know that you are trying to protect me and I appreciate that so much…But you need to let me work with you, as a team. You need to trust that I can do this, that I can be a part of your world." <x>

2: “I promise. I’m sorry for worrying you, I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you,” she gives him a watery giggle, a giggle that transforms into a shy smile as he raises a neat eyebrow at her- urging her to continue, “we really make quite the pair, don’t we? Constantly worried for the other, to the point of ignoring our own safety and how it would affect those around us.” <x>

3: As if on cue, Val’s melodic voice cuts through Adam’s rant before Nate could even raise a hand to interrupt him. “Aww, you do care about me!” <x>

4: With her hands still on his chest, she looks up at him bashfully, biting her lip as she considers her words. “Is this a bad time to admit that, despite being the one to suggest that we come to the beach, I don’t actually know how to swim…?” <x>

5: “Well, most children who have parents to take them on holiday probably do.” She struggles to keep the bitterness out of her voice, wincing slightly as she sees the sadness in Nate’s eyes, the same sadness that plagues him whenever she brought up her childhood...Or lack thereof. “But this is my first holiday! My first family holiday, so it would be nice if one of you could teach me…?” <x>

6: “Punishment… what punishment?” Before she can fully register the situation, a cold gust of wind brushes past her as she stares up at Mason in confusion, slowly realising that her vampiric defence had vanished from in front of her. “Wait… Et tu, Nate?” <x>

7: “I’m not exactly sure where to start,” Val runs her hands through her hair as she paces, the action doing very little to bring her comfort as she tries to pull at the stitches holding her heart and mind together, “or how to start actually… This might take a while. It might take a few days.” <x>

8: “No, she didn’t know. I had changed my emergency contact for the hospital to Tina a few years before that. If Mum knew…she certainly never visited, so there's a good chance she doesn’t know at all. She can’t know, Nate. I’m sorry to throw all this onto you like that.” <x>

9: She cocks an eyebrow up at him before giving him her best dramatic gasp, her hand planted on her chest, "Agent Sewell, do you mean to tell me that you've been snooping through my possessions? What would the others say?"

10: "Yeah well...It's about to sound a lot more like begging in roughly 2 minutes if that disgusting spider isn't dealt with. Are you all here to watch, or can one of you do something since Adam is more content to be a pain in the arse?"

11: "Are you proposing to me, Agent Sewell?" She peers up at him through her eyelashes, the humour in her voice falters as hope takes over.

12: "Am I doing this right?" She breathes out a small laugh at the adorably confused look he sends her way. "I'm not doing a very good job at coherently starting my sentence. It's just… I'm worried that I don't know how to love properly, it's not like I had an example to follow while growing up."

13: “A lot of people prefer putting their thoughts out for the public to read. This can work out well for me when the station finds evidence out in the virtual open like this, you have no idea how many people incriminate themselves through this. Books can be burnt, but this? This stuff is forever, so uh…be careful if you plan on committing any crimes and then posting about it online.”

14: "And you are a powerful man, Agent Sewell."

15: "...Yes Nathaniel ?" <x>

Tagging: @serenpedac @lucysarah-c, @humanitys-strongest-bamf, @youre-ackermine, @l3visthighs! (i'm not sure if some of you have oc's that you write for, but it could be fun to show some "reader" dialogues as well / instead of! <3)

[alexrosekey]

Old But Gold Pt.3

For today's episode of OBG, I'm going to introduce a fic that was written in 2004. That's right, pre Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince! It's Inferno, by Ociwen.

This gem was originally posted on Skyehawke.com - an independent fanfiction site that no longer exists. I came across this fic while scouring the Lumione fanlore.org page. Without a doubt, this is one of the wildest fic I've ever read of this pairing.

Since this one was written pre book 6, there are many canon divergent details. Tldr, Lucius and Hermione found themselves stuck in the Muggle world together after facing one another on the battlefield. Here's the catch, Lucius is stripped of all magic because of Hermione!

Yes, the premise might sound familiar if not common - forced proximity, stranded in a strange place and having to work together to survive that sort of thing. Hermione's inner monologues, however, captivates me. They are insanely engaging, and suck you in as the events unfold.

Lucius in this fic is pre book 7. He is rough around the edge, with much more darkness than many of his post-canon portrayals. Through Hermione's observations, Lucius appears as a mysterious, prejudiced, cold and harsh figure at the beginning of this fic.

Hermione and Lucius' relationship starts out as antagonistic and seemingly incompatible. Lucius is de-magicked and hostile, Hermione is hurt, scared, and equally contemptuous. Slowly, as the time passes, we get to see a bit more beyond Lucius' tough exterior. He's not all venom and spikes. Like a true Slytherin, he makes the most out of the situation and manages to carve out something for himself despite the cards he was given.

Hermione goes through various stages of emotions following her growing relationship with Lucius. The author's emotive description of her thoughts and feelings is one of the strongest aspects of Inferno. Through their writing, we experience Hermione’s initial longing for her friends and family, her yearning for the life she has left behind. Gradually, like Lucius, she adapted to the situation and grew to care for Lucius, eventually accepting her new life and be content with what she has. 

Writing more would be spoiler-y. This fic is something that you need to see for yourself. Sure, there's a ton of smut - very steamy, I must say - but they serve a purpose. Though beware that despite my review, this fic is not your traditional Lumione redemption fic. It contains dubcon, some less-than-wholesome segments and other dubious, graphic scenarios. There might be some questions left unanswered, and you might be forever questioning Lucius’ true motives, but that’s what makes this story intriguing!

Either way, you are in for a ride.

[upismediacenter]

LITERARY: From Me to You (君に届け).

How much better are the sparkles in my eyes, footsteps on light puddles, gradual waves, tulips tickled pink, if not the figments of you I find in my most mundane days? Most people find solace in silence. I find the underlying tranquility in it because of you, the one I sit in silence with.

My fingers interlace with yours, slowly, my eyes transform into shutter-like lenses, wanting to film and preserve every moment. I’d never want a single second to fade. While most people would wager spending forever with their most beloved, eternity seems to be too heavy of a promise. I am not exactly eager, nor constantly aching. My heart is at ease wading stagnant waters and sauntering through the most arduous sonatas with you, and all I ever want to think about is,

I’d want to spend tomorrow even with you. That alone is enough.

In every universe I'll traverse, I'd exhaust myself to find every version of you, just to make you feel loved a hundred times more. I'm certain that the invisible string that connects my heart to yours will always endure.

Until tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. And for all of my tomorrows.

In every universe, I'd wax poetic for you—stringing words like a bouquet of flowers for you deserve to be described only by words ever so endearing, grasping every corner of your beauty tenfold.

You'll forever live in me. Lest I forget, I'd pour out hours to meet you time and time again, getting to know you for the nth time until you become engraved in every single memory, until your laughter echoes in every flash of nostalgia.

For you—I'd do it all in a heartbeat. And if anyone would take their time to get to know you, I'm sure they'd do the same too. I had no clue I was capable of loving in such a way. Yet, God forbid—it just feels too good to be loved by you.

I breathe you in like the fresh, wistful scent of home, and exhale with content and comfortable sigh. I've always been naive, always in my feelings—yet not once had you made me feel like every tear I've shed for you is for naught.

It's like you directly place the stars in my eyes—admiring the inexplicable cosmos that is you. I get so lost every time, yet, you bring me back immediately, already swaddled in a love-knitted sweater that is you.

This is love in its purest form. My deep affection for you. it's raw, it's right, it's real—from me to you.

[casspurrjoybell-24]

The Alpha's Brother - Chapter 1 - Part 2

Book Three In : The Alpha's Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Cypher Ravenscroft

Simon Claymore and I been together for a six years now, the best six years of my life.

A lot has changed since I found the scared little shape-shifter in a cave on the coast of America.

I tried not to smile as I thought about it but I couldn't help it.

'This was his life now' I thought to myself.

'This was our life now.' was used to being on the run.

I've been running since my twenty-first birthday but Simons had just started.

We met by chance, by fate.

I was minding my own business, walking along the ocean in San Diego, feet in the sand of an unmarked beach.

It wasn't cold out but the sky was scattered with dark clouds and a humid wind was picking up it's pace, with the venom, of an oncoming storm.

I could smell him before I saw him.

The sweet smell of candy apple mixed into the sea salt.

It had been years since I had any sort of sweet treat like that and my sweet tooth prompted me to follow the intoxicating smell.

It took me all the way to a large, odd-shaped rock.

It curved like a cave, deep enough for a person to sit inside and close enough to the water to get your feet wet, I was curious, always have been, my mother always said it would be the death of me.

'Crikey, it nearly was.'

Wandering to the rockface, I had to step into the sea to go actually look inside of it and when I looked inside I was shocked at what I saw.

I don't really know what I was expecting when I looked inside but I know for a fact, I wasn't expecting to see a small, very cold-looking boy curled inside of the back of the cave, back pressed tightly to the farthest rock-wall.

He was cold, shaking, dark hair pressed to his temples like he had just come back from swimming.

He was asleep but he still managed to look exhausted.

There was a tugging in my chest, the familiar need to help.

'The one that always seems to get you in trouble? Yeah. That one.'

Walking in, my pants ended up getting soaked up the legs but I ignored the uncomfortable feeling of wet denim as I walked to the sleeping boy, only wearing a loose red t-shirt and black board shorts.

If I had seen him anywhere else I would say he was a local who liked to ride the waves.

Slowly I knelt down beside him, hand cautiously out to touch him.

Softly I swiped a hand across his forehead, moving his wet hair and that was my first mistake.

The boy jumped back, sitting up as fast as my eyes could watch his body move, it bent in ways that told me I could be in trouble had he been any bigger.

He shifted before my eyes into a grey mountain lion, teeth bared as his tired eyes filled with fear, anger and sorrow.

'A Shifter,' was the first thing that passed through my mind.

'Oh, Shit,' was soon to follow that.

I walked back slowly as the large cat slinked towards me, growling as I held my hands up.

"Hold up there matey. I'm not gonna to hurt you. I was just making sure you were okay."

Slowly I put my hand out, knowing full well, he already had my scent.

"My name's Cypher. I'm a... um... I'm a rogue, just like you. Listen I don't want any trouble."

I was trembling at this point.

This could be it, everything I've been through and I was gonna die at the hands of a rogue shifter but then, the mountain lion took a step back, eyeing me like he wasn't sure if he should really believe me or not.

A moment later, he transformed back, from the beast to the boy, kneeling in front of me in all his glory.

Slowly I stepped forward, cautious about how to handle the situation but then he let out a sob, a bone raking, body-shaking sob.

I fell to my knees in front of him, tightly wrapping my arms around him, his body flinching and tensing when I embraced him but I didn't move.

I just held him tighter and at that moment I swore I was going to protect him like I wish my own had protected me and nearly six years later, he was still letting me. 

[maria021015]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 45!

“Okay, you two wait out here and keep watch.” Zaida instructed the redhead and brunette in front of her as they reached Danny’s hospital room at Beacon Memorial. She pointed a stern finger at Cora. “And you make sure you keep your hands to yourself this time.”

Cora simply rolled her eyes and collapsed into one of the chairs lining the hallway as both Zaida and Stiles snuck into the room silently.

“Here we go, just the two of us. Investigating. Doing what we do best.” Stiles whispered excitedly as he shut the door behind them with a quiet click.

“You mean snooping?” Zaida smirked and the boy’s expression immediately shifted into a disappointed glare.

“No, I don’t mean snooping, and you know that I don’t mean snooping.” He shot back as he stepped towards their sleeping classmate who seemed completely unconscious as he lay back, tucked into bed. Stiles reached out and tapped the boy on the face a few times to check, his touches becoming harder as he went on. “Danny, you awake? Danny?”

“He will be if you keep doing that!” Zaida whisper-shouted and slapped the boy’s arm, urging him to hurry up and get on with what they came here to do. She took Danny’s phone from the bedside table and began searching through his messages for any clues. In the meantime, Stiles bent down and slowly unzipped Danny’s backpack, rifling through its contents for any clues.

“What are you doing?” Danny’s weak mumble caused both Stiles and Zaida to freeze.

“I'm not doing anything, Danny. This is just a dream you're having…” Stiles paused his actions.

“Are you going through my stuff?” The clearly drugged-out boy questioned, still not having noticed Zaida on the other side of the room.

“Right, but only in the dream, remember? Dream. Dreaming.” Stiles repeated.

“Why would I dream about you going through my stuff?” Danny continued, his voice sounding weaker by the second as his medication-induced fatigue began to reclaim him.

“I don't know that, Danny, okay?” Stiles snapped irritatedly. “It's your dream. Take responsibility for it. Now shut up and go back to sleep.”

“Oh God,” Zaida muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes at the boy’s antics and continuing to search through Danny’s messages. She decided to stop that when she stumbled upon a conversation between him and Ethan that she wished she could erase form her memory.

“Danny-boy, you might've actually found something here…” Stiles mumbled, drawing her attention away from the phone as she placed it back where she had retrieved it from.

“What’d you find?” She asked, kneeling behind him to peer over his shoulder to look at a research proposal for a paper titled ‘Telluric Currents’. Harris’ handwriting was scrawled along the top.

I strongly advise you to choose another subject. The ideas here, while innovative and thoughtful, border on pseudoscience. Not suitable for class.

“Bingo,” Zaida hissed and took the paper from Stiles’ hands.

“See, we make a great team.” Stiles turned his head to look at her and it was only then that Zaida realised how close they were to one another.

“Yeah, but that’s old information, right?” She let out a small puff of laughter, her heart beating quickly, sending the blood in her ears thrumming.

“Right,” He agreed, his amber eyes softening. “Nice shirt by the way.”

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna give it back to you at school, but things kind of went to shit again so it slipped my mind.” Zaida stumbled over her words, hands reaching towards her waist to untie the sleeves of his flannel.

“No, you keep it. It looks good on you.” Stiles' hands moved to cover hers, stilling their movement. “I’ve got plenty, anyway.”

“Oh…thanks.” She blinked in surprise and Stiles savoured the sight of a slight flush in her cheeks.

There was a slight rap of knuckles against the door, and the sudden sound caused the two to pull apart, getting to their feet awkwardly. “We should get outta here before someone sees us.” Zaida cleared her throat.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right.” Stiles nodded in agreement, watching her head toward the door with a smile on his face. God, he loved seeing her wearing his clothes.

“Hey, did you see what Allison found?” Zaida spoke into the phone as she, Stiles, Lydia and Cora headed through the hospital back towards the Jeep.

“Yeah, her dad’s been tracking the places where people have been taken and where the bodies have been found. There are also six extra marks - we think they’re predictions.” Scott explained on loud-speaker. “Deaton's got to be at one of the six locations, but they're all over town. I don't know how we can get to all of them fast enough.”

“Well, we might not have to. Danny was doing a project on something for Mr. Harris' physics class, and I think it actually means something.” Stiles interjected, leaning in so he could be heard clearly.

“What project?” Scott questioned from the other side of the line.

“Something on…” Stiles gestured for Zaida to show him the paper they had nabbed from Danny’s bag. “Telluric currents.”

“...Did you say currents?” The werewolf clarified after a brief hesitation, which made Zaida think that it meant something to him.

“Yeah…” Stiles confirmed. “Why?”

“Just meet me at the Clinic.” Scott instructed, swiftly hanging up.

“Why are we going to the animal clinic?” Cora questioned.

“Why are you still here?” Zaida shot back, genuinely not understanding why the beta was still tagging along.

“It sounds to me like you need all the help you can get.” The young hale snarked stubbornly.

“Yeah, and I’m yet to see any actual help from you.” Zaida scoffed.

“When we do find Deaton, there’s no guarantee that he’s going to be alone. If we run into the Darach, we’re going to need a werewolf or two on our side.” Stiles reasoned and Zaida hated that he had a point.

“Okay, so what does this kid's homework have to do with finding Deaton?” Cora asked once they spread Danny’s documents over one of the many metal tables in the clinic, all crowding around it.

“Because it's not just homework, okay? It's a project on geomagnetic fields. They flow through the earth. They can even be affected by lunar phases, all right?” Stiles explained, tapping on the scrawled note on the front page of the report. “Now, look at this - this is a note from Harris on Danny's proposal.”

"I strongly advise you to choose another topic. The ideas here, while innovative and thoughtful, border on pseudoscience. Not suitable for class." Lydia read it aloud.

“Harris wasn't just a sacrifice - he knew something.” Scott noted.

“That explains why Danny was a target too - he just didn’t fit the sacrificial requirements.” Zaida added.

“Now, check this out - Allison's dad wasn't the only one with a map, all right? Danny had one, too.” Stiles unfolded a larger piece of paper that indeed had a map of Beacon Hills printed on it with multiple markings. “Danny marked all the telluric currents, okay? Now, the weird thing about Beacon Hills is that it actually is a beacon - you wouldn't believe how much energy flowing through the earth is around this town.”

“Stiles, you remember how I said the Celtics used to make sacrificial offerings to nature? Maybe Druids are like nymphs. I draw my powers from the element I’m connected to, and the Darach must draw power from nature, like the ground.” Zaida drew the dots together. “These currents would amplify that. The sacrifices have to be offered on the natural energy lines - like an exchange of power.”

“That actually makes sense. It’s why the Darach has been kidnapping victims and killing them at other locations.” The boy nodded.

“Stiles, look. They match!” Scott pointed out the similarities between the lines on Danny’s map and the marked points on Chris Argent’s, tracing them onto the larger map with a coloured marker.

“All right, there's multiple places, right? Where they're kidnapped and then the place where their body was found.” Scott pointed out crosses marked for both locations, all a little distance either side of current lines.

“Look, that's right on the telluric current.” Lydia tapped on the midpoint between the two markings.

“So, maybe where the sacrifices happen is somewhere in between where they’re taken from and where their bodies are found?” Scott deduced.

“Let me see that.” Stiles pulled Chris’ map towards himself, tracing along the lines near the animal clinic that led to marked spots where nothing had happened yet. “You said there's six more bodies to be found. Deaton's one of them. Gotta be somewhere in between, right?”

“I wonder if the power from the currents is stronger where they overlap.” Zaida reasoned as she inspected the map, a painted nail tapping over all of the places where the flows intersected.

“Stop.” Cora instructed and Stiles’ finger froze over a familiar destination on the map - it was the closest intersection of currents to the animal clinic. Beacon Hills National Bank. “He's in the vault - the same vault.”

“Guys, hold on-” Lydia started hesitantly but Stiles cut her off.

“Lydia, we don't have time-” The boy began, but then Cora interrupted him, checking her phone.

“It's Boyd.” She stated in alarm. “The plan didn't work. They cut the power.”

“If Aiden is there I can try and talk him out of it.” Lydia offered her help, hoping that the boy might listen to her.

“It's just like he said…” Scott mumbled under his breath.

“Just like who said?” Zaida caught his words, frowning in confusion. Scott didn’t answer her, he simply pursed his lips. “Scott, just like who said?”

“Deucalion. He was at the school. He warned me that someone was going to die tonight - either Derek, or Deaton. He knew I’d have to choose between them.” The werewolf answered reluctantly.

“He was trying to get into your head. Don’t let him.” Zaida warned, her gut twisting at the mention of the man - especially now knowing that he had only been a short distance away and she’d been none the wiser. "You don't need to choose."

“We need to think about this for a moment.” Lydia attempted to play the level-headed advocate.

“Go. I can save Deaton myself.” Scott nodded at the redhead and brunette beta.

“What? Scott, what about us?” Stiles asked, referring to himself and Zaida.

“Cora and Lydia can't get there fast enough without you.” Scott pointed out the girls’ lack of transport. “Go. We can save both of them.”

“...I’m coming with you.” Zaida spoke up, surprising them all when they realised she was speaking to Scott. She felt incredibly torn between her desire to protect Stiles, Lydia and Isaac, and her concerns about Scott going alone. Ultimately, the deciding factor was that there wasn’t much she could do in front of the alphas anyway. “I can’t expose my abilities to Deucalion, but I might be able to help you.”

“Okay,” Scott yielded, nodding in acceptance.

“Alright. Let’s go,” Stiles sighed in defeat and the group began moving out towards the car park.

“Hey, just be careful, alright?” Stiles gripped Zaida’s arm gently as the others headed out, pulling her towards him to talk in hushed tones. “If anything happens-”

“I’ll call you.” She promised, her heart warming at his display of concern for her. “You be careful too, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Since when do I ever do anything stupid?” He chuckled lightly and Zaida sent him a pointed expression that very clearly communicated, ‘all the time’.

“This place is creepy as hell. I hate it already and I’ve only been here for like five minutes. I don’t know how Boyd, Erica and Cora spent months here without going crazy.” Zaida whispered as she and Scott crept through the abandoned bank. As with all abandoned buildings, there was an eeriness blanketed over the thick darkness. “Also, how are there so many abandoned buildings in such a small town? The Hale house, the warehouse district, the railway depot, the mall, this bank…”

“It’s all part of that Beacon Hills charm, I guess.” Scott shrugged, leading the way to the vault where he had found Boyd and Cora all those weeks ago.

When they approached the vault the large circular door was open, moonlight streaming across the concrete beneath their feet. A shadow shifted between the light, and both Zaida and Scott’s eyes followed the stretch of black on the floor until their gazes were met with the figure of a man suspended by his wrists in mid-air.

“Doc?” Zaida’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper in her rising fear.

The man simply grunted as he lifted himself higher to catch a ragged breath, just barely holding himself there for a split-second before dropping back down. Soon he’d lose all of his strength and wouldn’t be able to pull himself up enough to breathe. Scott rushed forward towards his boss but was swiftly shoved backwards through the air with a bright flash of light. Zaida stepped forward, kneeling to peer through the heavy blackness at the floor. Reaching out her fingertips brushed an impenetrable force and light danced around the contact point between herself and the barrier.

“Mountain Ash.” She muttered bitterly. Before the girl could try and make a move, Scott got to his feet and threw himself at the barrier once more, groaning as he pushed against it with all of his strength. A blue light illuminated the room, causing Zaida to squint against it.

“Scott, there’s no use!” She pleaded, but the boy continued to push, his eyes glowing yellow and then - much to Zaida’s surprise - shifting into a far richer, deeper, and warmer colour. Did she really just see what she thought she saw?

When Scott was inevitably thrown to the floor once more, Zaida drew on her own power, pulling at the moisture in the air until a sphere formed, hovering above her palm. At her will, the substance morphed into a thin wall akin to a piece of paper. She snapped her palms outwards, flicking the water like a jet. The sharp pressure was enough to sever the ropes binding the veterinarian, and he dropped to a heap on the floor with a heavy grunt, immediately going silent. Scott got his feet under him once more and the two of them stood side by side, watching the unconscious man helplessly. As soon as Zaida’s racing pulse began to calm itself, the sound of heavy footsteps growing closer and louder struck anxiety into her breath once more.

“How do we get in there?” Zaida questioned frantically. She didn’t want to leave the man, but she also really didn’t want to be caught by the Darach either.

“Scott! Zaida! What are you kids doing here?” A familiar voice cut through the tense silence and Zaida’s tense muscles sagged in relief.

“Oh, thank God it’s you!” She exclaimed and clutched her heart as Sheriff Stilinski scanned the room with his gun, consciously focusing on slowing her breathing. Once he determined there was no imminent danger, Noah hurried forward through the Mountain Ash to Deaton’s side. His boots caught on the powder and broke the seal, allowing Zaida and Scott to follow him.

“Alan?” Noah checked the man’s vitals and Deaton came to, still appearing slightly disoriented, but alive. “Okay, back it up kids. Give him some space.”

“It’s about time we got a win,” Zaida whispered to Scott as they both stepped away and the Sheriff handled Deaton, getting him to his feet and leading him over to rest against a wall.

“We don’t know that yet,” Scott replied, his jaw locking with worry as his mind went to their friends. Zaida had her blocks firmly in place, but not for the first time tonight she had to resist the urge to open the doorway to that corridor and check on them. There was nothing she could do from here. The only purpose it would serve would be to worry herself further. Besides, if one of them was hurt she would feel it through her blocks anyway. It was that knowledge that reassured her enough to keep her curiosity in check.

“How'd you find us?” Scott asked Noah when he finally decided Deaton was in stable condition.

“The vials in the clinic with the Celtic symbols on 'em? I knew that one of 'em looked familiar…” The man answered and Zaida knew he was referring to the bank logo that Allison had used to track the place down.

“Sheriff, thank you,” Deaton’s voice was scratchier than usual, but he retained that placid quality that he was so well known for. “For being one hell of a detective.”

“You bet.” Noah nodded with a thankful smile. “Let's get you an ambulance.”

When the Sheriff moved away to speak into his radio, Deaton took the opportunity to beckon Scott and Zaida over. “Your eyes were red! Bright red!” The doctor expressed, an excited glint in his dark eyes.

“I saw that too! I thought maybe it was a trick of the light or something…” Zaida noted, her own eyes widening at the confirmation of what she’d witnessed.

“How is that possible?” Scott gaped at them both in shock.

“Paramedics are on their way! I'll be back in half a minute.” Noah called over from the entrance to the vault before disappearing outside.

“It's rare - it's something that doesn't happen within a hundred years. But, every once in a while, a Beta can become an Alpha without having to steal or take that power.” Deaton spoke quietly through heavy breaths, explaining the phenomenon as though he was particularly familiar with it. “They call it a True Alpha. It's one that rises purely on the strength of character, by virtue, by sheer force of will.”

“...You knew this would happen.” Scott decided after staring at the man analytically.

“I believed. From the moment I knew you were bitten, I believed.” The vet nodded proudly, looking at Scott as if he were his own son. Zaida hadn’t experienced anything even remotely close to that with her bosses at her job over summer - they’d simply occasionally thanked her by buying her lunch or giving her expired or damaged stock. But it was clear that Scott and Deaton’s bond ran much deeper than that.

“...You're not the only one.” Scott mumbled coming to the realisation before Zaida even began to consider it.

“No.” Deaton pursed his lips grimly. “Deucalion isn't after Derek - he's after you.”

“So everything he’s been doing to Derek and his pack…he’s been pushing Scott to see what choices he’ll make. He’s been pushing him to become a True Alpha faster.” Zaida added, dread sinking in her stomach.

“If we head to the loft maybe we can still get there in time to help.” Scott suggested as they walked out onto the street, headed towards his motorbike.

“Hold on - it's Stiles,” Zaida held up a hand to silence the werewolf before answering her buzzing mobile. “Hey, Deaton’s safe. Is it over? Are you guys okay?”

“It went wrong - everything went so wrong. Boyd…Boyd is dead.” Stiles’ shaky voice blurred through the phone.

“How? What happened?” Scott leaned in, muscles tensing in alarm as something heavy weighed on both of their chests at the news.

“We turned the power back on when we got here, but it didn’t work. Kali, Boyd and Derek all got electrocuted, but Kali recovered first. The twins…uh, they held Derek in place and Kali- she threw Boyd onto Derek’s claws.” Stiles swallowed audibly. “She- she forced Derek to kill him, and she said…if he didn’t join them by the next full moon, she was coming after the rest of the pack.”

“Oh my God,” Zaida gasped, imagining how awful it must have been to witness such a thing. She hadn’t known Boyd very well at all, but to Isaac, Cora and Derek, he was family. “How is everyone handling it?”

“Well, Isaac, Cora and Ms Blake stayed with Derek-” The boy began but Zaida’s brows drew together in confusion.

“Ms Blake? Our English teacher Ms Blake? What was she doing there?” The brunette interrupted.

“Well, apparently she and Derek are like together now which is…weird, to say the least.” The boy answered.

“Gross,” Zaida cringed at the thought. “How’s Lydia?”

“Yeah, she’s taking it kinda hard. She really thought Aiden might come through for her, but after what we saw…I don’t think we’ll be finding her in Coach’s office anytime soon.” Stiles sighed and it was a heavy sound full of exhaustion and dismay.

“And you? Are you alright?” Zaida checked in with the boy and silence greeted her for a moment longer than usual.

“Yeah, just peachy.” He lied and Scott shot her a worried look.

“Do you…uh,” The girl cleared her throat awkwardly, trying to brush her offering off as something casual. She wanted to be there for him desperately, the way he had always been there for her. “Do you want me to come over?”

“...You know, Lydia probably needs you right now.” Stiles answered lowly after a longer hesitation and dejection stung in Zaida’s chest.

“Right, of course.” She took in a deep, stabilising breath. “Well, I’ll see you at school, then.”

She didn’t wait for Stiles to answer before she hung up. Of course it was about Lydia. Zaida tried not to be jealous, she really did, but it was becoming harder and harder to hold it back.

“Lyds?” Zaida whispered into the dark room as she placed her house keys down on the dresser top. Scott had just dropped her off on his bike, waiting for her to let herself inside before speeding off home. Zaida wasn’t sure if the redhead was asleep until she heard quiet sobbing interrupted by the occasional sniffle. Once her hazel eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see Lydia’s form curled under the blankets as she cried.

“Oh, honey.” The brunette coed and crawled onto the mattress, drawing the girl into her arms. Her heart broke for Lydia, even though she’d warned her time and time again about Aiden. “It’s okay. Everything is gonna be okay.”

“I thought that maybe…he might listen to me,” She swallowed deeply. “But he just held Derek there as Kali impaled Boyd on his claws. He didn’t even just watch, he helped.”

“I hate to say I told you so, and I won’t right now because it’s not the time, but know that you will be hearing it later.” Zaida sighed and patted the girl’s hair in a soothing motion.

“You were right - I should have listened to you.” Lydia agreed in a small voice.

“You tried. All you could have done was try.” The brunette reassured her.

“He didn’t flinch, he didn’t even feel bad.” The redhead shook her head in disbelief as if she were replaying the moment in her head. “Why do I always go for the bad guys?”

“You’re a romantic, Lyds.” Zaida hugged her tighter. “But all the brains in the world can’t fix a boy unless he wants to change.”