#this idea has been bothering me for a while and i caved

[allpiesforourown]

OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it. 

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety. 

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out. 

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person. 

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student. 

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong. 

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that. 

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS. 

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.” 

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple. 

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding????? 

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret. 

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was. 

Instead he asks what they’re doing. 

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem 

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet. 

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses. 

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword. 

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!” 

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan. 

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him! 

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do. 

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice. 

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist. 

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.” 

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?” 

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing. 

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Hey, I've read your last yandere Bruce, neglected fam reader and it gave me an idea. What if instead of the reader wasting all that money or luxury, she saved most of it in a closed account and when Bruce bought the apartment she made him sign it in her name as a plan to when the right time comes or if she needs to, she will sell the apartment and use all the money she saved to leave to start over in another country. Imagine Bruce finding out when she reaches the point where she put her apartment for sale, or better, actually selling it to a friend or someone they know and actually leaving.

Yan!batfam with neglected!sister reader leaving the state/country

Anon your mind is fucking golden! I also thought of the reader having the apartment signed in her name just because Bruce wanted her to feel comfortable but I love the layers this adds.

Hopefully these couple of hcs are good enough while I work on pt 2. Also if anyone else has any questions about any other scenarios or certain characters feel free to send them in I'll try to respond whenever I have time and I write for any gender reader.

Word count ; 1073

Unedited

___

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ bruce is not happy with this turn of events at all. He wasn't expecting nor did he sense that this was going to happen, you didn't post about it or even reference moving on any of your social media apps which he lovingly stalks watches over to make sure you are content with your life and also because he likes seeing you happy and enjoying all the things he got you. And it hurts him a little that you didn't even say something to him … he knows you don't owe him that, not when your relationship is still in a fragile state but he's trying.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ he only figures out after someone in the fam(most likely dick) broke in dropped by your apartment and likely scared one of your friends shitless.. obviously both parties are shocked but your friend more so as they don't know who the hell just broke into their house, dick is shocked when this random person claims that he's trespassing in their home. After that awkward situation dick immediately reports back to Bruce about this over the comms and with some digging from Tim they're able to find out that you had sold the house and the exact date that you had, approximately a month ago. That sends off alarm bells for the entire batfam, where are you now?! It takes an hour or so of searching to find out exactly where you moved and when they do they can't decide what to do with the information.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Alfred is the voice of reason in this family, he discourages the batboys from immediately doing everything in their power to bring you home, he advocated for you to live wherever you choose and says that it's your life and that the family cannot choose for you. Alfred loves you dearly you are basically his child he views you the way he views Bruce. He may be a yandere but he's a selfless one he truly only has your best interest in mind. His words are like a slap of reality for some of the Batfam mainly Tim, Steph and Jason all three of then become a lot more hesitant to go through with their plans to bring you home on the other hand dick, bruce, and damian are adamant that you aren't safe unless they can be nearby.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Nobody can come to a decision the night they find out and so they decide to sleep on it until they can come to an agreement the manor will be tense for a week or two at most before they spring into action, they will all eventually cave to their selfish needs even if some feel guilty for doing it. Alfred will sigh disappointedly but ultimately allow them to go through with their plans he only hopes you can forgive him for not doing more

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you on the other hand will be left unaware to all that's going down you'd gotten a new phone and lived in a whole new state maybe even country! They couldn't bother you here. You were happier than you have been for a long time. Even if you missed your old friends you still tried to keep in touch over the phone.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ as for why you did this? It's likely the other batboys' faults, Bruce is annoying but he's not nearly as demanding of your time as the others, namely dick. Dick is insanely clingy once you're on his radar and he becomes aware of how much his neglect affected you mentally. The guilt for him was all consuming when he found out how much he hurt you and that he neglected you for quite literally no reason, you just didn't matter to him at the time. the thought now makes him sick, of course you matter, what the hell was his problem!! Dick would have constantly broke your boundaries by hugging and touching and cuddling you he feels like he needs to make it up to you by being a good big brother, even if that's not what you need anymore after all it's far too late you're already an adult but he refuses to see it that way you're still his baby sister. He inserts himself into your life constantly and even if he'll pay for things he'll only do so under the circumstances that the money be spent ‘together’ like sure he'll take you to that fancy restaurant but it's going to be made into a sister-brother bonding moment, like yeah he'll let you use his card to go shopping but only if he's going with you. Even if you don't use him for money he will still find ways to insert himself into your life. He's overwhelmingly intense and his behavior mixed with the other overbearing members in the batfam plus the added overwhelming feelings of having people who ignored you all your life suddenly want your time and attention is probably why you felt like you had to leave.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you won't be gone for more than a month or two before your dragged back to Gotham and back to your family, only this time you've got a metaphorical collar around your neck as now you're likely brought back to the manor always under surveillance and on the off chance you're still allowed to own your own apartment again just know it will be heavily bugged along with your phone courtesy of Tim even if he feels bad about invading your privacy he knows they need to see your texts to make sure you're not planning to leave Gotham again. Oh and now the bat members will each take turn patrolling your house and following you from the shadows to make sure you're safe.

___

All in all I'd say you'll have your fun for a little while but ultimately you'll just drive them deeper in their obsession and they will likely kidnap and bring you home.

[cluelessatthispoint]

Dragon's Hoard pt. 6

Warnings: mentions of force feeding, possible cannibalism, kidnapping mention, and hybrids not knowing to to parent a human child properly.

~enjoy~

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

Grumbling from your place under Price's thick arm. The none to suble rocking motion of his gait has you swinging from one side to the other. Despite walking as slow as he can without causing you much injury, he is massive compared to the average human male. A soft pout makes it to your features as the allure of being carried under a large arm, like a sack of potatoes looses its allure. Looking down nit too far you can see your feet dangling as he carries you with his muscular forearm around your middle. If you had any food in your stomach there's no doubt in your mind that you would have been throwing up your stomach contents.

"Let me down...hey! Let me down." You're tone is almost breathy with the way you feel your lungs being squished.

Kicking weakly for good measure, the dragon huff. His massive chest heaving out a lumbering sigh as if you were a toddler throwing yet another tantrum. With a slow swing of his tail, he wraps the end around your feet as he slowly sets you down. Gathering courage, you set him with the nastiest glare you can muster. In return all you get is a deep, rumbling purr.

"Cute, kid. Real cute."

The hand that comes your way nearly hits the side of your head with the way you flinch back. Price however ignores your action as he seems unbothered and used to such things. Placing his hand on your head and ruffling your tangled locks, he smirks as if pleased with himself.

"Tiny thing you are, well. Don't worry your lil head poppet. I hunt you a nice boar-"

"A boar?!"

The alarm and surprise in the tone of your voice makes the crows feet at the edges of his eyes crinkle into view. It almost makes him look more human. With the flare of his one wing, your surprise diminishes. Of course he would hunt you something to eat. A dragon has dragon instincts after all.

"Yeah, a boar. Unless you want a bear instead. Now I haven't had bear in a long time kiddo. Boar and bear are both quite tasty."

Despite his warm tone of voice, the tail around your legs that's keeping you in place seems to grow only the barest hint tighter. Swallowing up the whine in your throat, you cast a weary glance down. As if asking without verbalizing, if he intends to relinquish the hold of your legs now. The notion of running away would be ludicrous. If there was only one hybrid in the cave, then the idea of running away wouldn't be too outlandish. But with four hybrids total? It's impossible. Even with this thought in mind, Price seems bound and determined to keep track of you and your whereabouts one way or another. Too busy in your musings to notice, it doesn't come to your attention that he moved his tail up to your wrist. The very end of it wrapping around your tiny wrist, as if holding hands. Gently tugging you along, you follow Price deeper into the cave as he asses and checks the food supply. The darkness only grows, and the echoing of two sets of footsteps dance across the cave walls. The stalagmites glitter prettily off to the sides, as if the space in the middle were cleared out, no doubt by the dragon hybrid himself.

"What's bear taste like?"

It's almost strange to hear how your voice echoes faintly off the walls.

You can hear in the tone of his voice how Price is smiling as he speaks. The darkness doesn't seem to bother him as his eyes pierce through the inky black with relative ease.

"Ah, bear..let's see...depends on how you like it. Gaz like his bear as a jerky. It takes a while to make, but it's the best food he makes. Soap like his bear fresh as they come, almost as good as a shephar-..sheep. Yeah, almost as good as sheep."

The way Price stumbles over his words make you furrow your tiny brows, but other than that you say nothing. Your mind races. 'Sheep, Bear, Boar, what haven't these monsters eaten?' As if sensing that you were dangerously close to connecting the dots, Price shakes your arm lightly with his tail.

"Hey now kiddo, think any harder and your face will get stuck like that."

Prices words cut off your train of thought. Suddenly the muffled voices of the others waft from the nest. They sound like they're having a good conversation, but specifics are hard to make out due to the echo and the distance. Their amalgamation of voices sound so strange when mixed together. Their accents blending wonderfully to create a concophany of vowels and consonants that sound so human, and yet so uncanny. Squeezing onto Price's tail a bit tighter in return, the feeling of hot, scaled skin and its rough texture serve to soothe and ground your mounting anxiety. From above, the low tone of the Dragon's drawl clues you back in on your purpose here, so far away from the others and your controversial opinions of the safety of the warm nest. 'At least it was bright in there' You think ruefully to yourself.

"Now then, I think we have enough meat stored here. No need to go hunting." Comes the crooning voice of the dragon hybrid as he scoop you up once more. Placing ypu held firmly in his arms, the sudden swaying motion of him taking a seat has you clinging to his broad shoulders for deer life. In the dark, everything feels such more potent. The sounds as soft as some are, almost feel deafening.

"Open up treasure, try some boar." The feeling of cold, salted meat against your lips beckons a half shriek of alarm from your throat.

Within that split second of opening your mouth, a small morsel of said meat is ushered inside with little to no tact. The result, is a mighty grimace of distaste coloring your youthful features. Turning your head away, you find some room to spit up whatever parts came loose withing your maw. The taste of unflavored, too salty meat is pungent to your senses.

"Ugh! Ack-ah...it's gross! I don't like it!" With your cry, Price only holds on tighter.

"Easy now hatchling, it's good. It's good for you. It'll help you grow big and strong." His words sound like a bitter balm as he gently turns your face back and presses a large scaled finger to each side of your jaw. The pressure on your temperal mandibular joint coaxes your mouth open with such ease that it has you seeing red. The choked off noises of insult and anger seem to spur him on. His tone is chiding as if scolding a child much younger than you.

"Ah, ah, ah, don't give me that. The sooner we feed you, the better you'll feel. I promise."

A stray thought briefly crosses your mind. 'Eating in the dark? Why? What am I eating? Isn't boar supposed to be gamey or tough? This meat is soft- even salted and dried.' Closing your eyes, you eat reluctantly. Morsel after morsel, mouthful after mouthful. Price feeds you with a firm, but gentle hand. After each morsel is swallowed down his praise, as unwanted as it is, fills you with pride. As if all the times of missing out on what other children have with their parents is now coming back to you. 'Better late than never' the voice in the back of your mind chimes in.

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

Here we are my friends! Chapter 6! I'm so sorry about the delay. And soon I'm going to have the master list up and running. No more searching and scrolling, I promise!

[rogueddie]

Stitched Together T | 698 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing

"Do you still have my vest?"

"Hello to you too?" Steve says, raising his eyebrows when Eddie takes that as his cue to push past Steve, into his house.

He quickly kicks the door behind him, curling an arm around Steve's waist to reel him into a quick kiss. "Hello! My old vest- you got it?"

"I do- I haven't been able to get the blood out yet."

"Oh, I don't want it," Eddie waves him off, already halfway up the stairs. "Come on, I need to see it!"

"What- Eddie!"

Steve hurries up the stairs after Eddie, who takes them two steps at a time. He hovers at Steve's bedroom door though, rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting.

It's then that Steve noticed the plastic bag that he's holding.

"You gonna explain?"

"In a minute! I need to see my old vest first."

"It's in my closet," Steve explains, leading him into his room and pointing.

Eddie immediately jumps over to the closet, glancing back at Steve before he opens it to make sure it's ok for him to dig through it.

It doesn't take him long to find the vest, face splitting into a grin as he pulls it out.

"Perfect."

"So... what's going on?"

"I'm gonna make a new one. Wanted to remind myself how this bad boy is layed out first."

"Oh?"

"I'll only need it for, like, a few hours. I can get it back to you by the end of the day."

"What? Wh- you brought your stuff here."

"Yeah, I'm gonna stitch it together in the van. I was thinking about going out to the quarry."

"You could- I mean, if you want to, you could just... do it here? If you want to. I'm just gonna be baking today anyway."

"Hell yeah. Any excuse to spend more time with you is a great idea in my book."

Eddie follows him downstairs, setting up on the sofa in the living room, while Steve continues past him into the kitchen.

Steve pokes his head back in after a minute.

"You didn't want to talk, did you?"

"I know how you get when you bake," Eddie reminds him. "I'm ok here. If I need anything, I know where everything is."

"You could ask-"

"No, I couldn't. It's ok, babe. Really. It's nice to just... know you're here."

"Oh. Really?"

"Really."

Steve goes back into the kitchen, but it's not long before he's washed the side, the bowls and utensils he used. All he needs to do is wait for his food to bake.

He wanders back into the living room, sitting on one of the arm chairs.

Eddie barely glances up, focused on his task.

He doesn't seem bothered that Steve is staring, so he just... watches.

It's surprisingly nice. Comforting.

He can see how much care Eddie is putting into each patch, taking his time when pinning them in place and being careful with each stitch.

By the time the kitchen timer goes off, Eddie has only managed to stitch two patches on and started on the backpatch.

He follows Steve into the kitchen once he's done putting his things away, just in time for him to start plating.

"Looks delicious."

"Mhmm," Steve grins. He pulls Eddie closer with a hand on his hip as soon as he's within reach. "You?"

"Got two done in the time it usually takes me to stitch on one, so, I consider it a win."

"Good."

He tries to lean in, pepper Eddie's neck with kisses until he caves the way he always does, easily following Steve up to-

"We should do this more often," Eddie continues. "Hanging out like this. It's... nice. It really is."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, reluctantly pulling back. He can't bite back his sappy smile though. "You're gorgeous when you get into your passions."

"Careful, Harrington. Keep talking like that and people might start thinking you're in love with me."

"Mmm, I don't know, they might be into something."

His attempt to kiss Eddie is ruined by how much they're both laughing.

Steve is pretty sure it's one of the best days that he's ever been fortunate enough to live.

[revelboo]

God I hope one day whatever Nonsense happens on the Everything Is Alright Nemesis someone runs up to sparked Megatron like "Lord Megatron you will not believe what happened in the 20 seconds we were left to our own devices-" and they run in and hes just

And the human is next to him in their own lounge chair also kicked back bc if its his day off its THEIR day off too. Like go bother someone else, if Starscream wants to be in charge let him take it for the day and lets see if he hasnt started peeling his own paint from stress. Shoo.

(Image is from the Go Go comics!)

Megatron was already over it even before he got sideswiped by this nonsense. Megatron’s a ticking time bomb at this point

Everything Is Alright Pt 117

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Aware of the very judgmental look Soundwave is aiming at you as you just watch Star get scruffed by Megatron while your mate screams what you’re guessing is Cybertronian profanity and Megatron just laughs, you’re so tired. Sick of aliens and their stupid, alien bullshit. Something Soundwave seems to sense as he vents and just turns and walks away with you. “Megatron?” He prompts as he carries you and your shoulders creep up to your ears.

• You’d denied him when he’d tried to fully bond to you and had fully bonded Megatron instead. Just when he thinks he’s figured out humans and he can’t help but be a little hurt about it. “Please, don’t look at me like that, I was so out of it, it’s not like I had any idea what was happening,” you say and he caves at your angry, little expression, reaching to tap a servo under you chin. “You’re going to go back and stop them, right? Soundwave?” No, he’s going to let them work it out. It’s not like they can really hurt each other anymore anyway. You’ve effectively made it so neither can murder the other. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so horrifying.

• Apparently he’s not going to do anything about the fight, Soundwave seeming not at all concerned about it. “Big trouble,” Soundwave admonishes, a servo rubbing your jaw as he carries you back to his quarters. And you have no idea if he means accidentally giving Megatron Star’s sparkling, fully bonding Megatron, or passing out. Probably all three. Sitting on his berth with you and mass shifting, his arms curl around you. “Worried, little one,” he says, voice soft.

• Rumbling softly as you reach up to cup his face, a thumb sliding against his mask until he retracts it for you. Do you have any idea how much you scared him? That when Starscream had collapsed, he’d been afraid he’d lost you again. “So Megatron is sparked now. Is that normal? You guys passing the spark?” You ask and he shakes his head. Because nothing about mating a human has been normal. Causing more chaos in the short time he’s known you than the Autobots have the whole war.

• So you’re a weird one off. Fantastic. And then the door is opening as Megatron drags Starscream in by a wing, your other mate still swearing as he’s shoved into the room and Soundwave vents tiredly against you. “Little pet,” Megatron snarls, optics narrowed. “You’d spark a mech and then abandon them?” Why? Why is it like this? Hiding your face against Soundwave’s neck, you just want to cry. And Megatron’s still grinning that slightly mad little smile that makes you skin crawl and promises retribution at some point for what you’d accidentally done. You’re starting to really hate aliens.

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[meanbossart]

Because I love the idea of DU drow as a companion... how would you recruit him? Where do you find him, and what's his intro cutscene?

Hi, I've been thinking about this since I got this message :V

There's this nautiloid pod somewhere nearby the Owlbear cave right? So those things were just crashing all over the place, not just near the beach where the actual ship fell. I believe his pod could have had a similar fate and fallen somewhere off the beaten path.

Mind you that, In this scenario, waking up from the pod and onto the forest map would have been DU Drow's first-ever conscious minutes ever since having his mind wiped, so he truly has no fucking idea of what just happened - he just knows his head is in shambles and that he needs to survive for long enough for his memories to return, assuming they ever will. So, his immediate instinct would be to retreat away from where the people are.

I think underneath the bridge, where there's running water and some fauna/flora would be a good spot to find him. Players might take a day or two until they stumble across this weirdo companion and so they are more in the loop than he would be. You'd find a little blood-trail leading you down there, and eventually spot a fist's corpse with no shoes near the river - DU drow would be crouched down by the water washing blood off himself:

While the rest of the party may have been picked off random places as they went about their days, this guy was busy being dissected and put back together over and over again - and there's no way Kressa bothered to dress him back up fully before he was taken away from her (me allowing the man to have pants on at all is a mercy onto you all) so he begins with no armor, but to make up for that fact he's the only companion who begins with a great-sword, which he would have stolen from the fist.

When you approach he is perfectly calm, In fact, he doesn't seem all that there. He stands up and appears half-ready for a fight, but lets you speak first. You can either ask what he's doing here, or about the corpse. You get more or less the same answer to both:

If you successfully persuade him, he tells you with no particular tone of shame or remorse that you got him, he did kill him, however he claims he was attacked first. Whether you pry into his mind with the worm, or have a scroll of read-thoughts, you get the same narration:

"Behind the aloof facade, you find the drow's mind to be in a concerning state of disarray: dozens of thoughts racing, jumbled, all at once, each trailing into the next before you can catch a hint of substance. You don't find the answers you were looking for, just red goo."

You CAN however use speak to the dead on the corpse. If you do that, it's revealed that he is actually telling the truth; The fist found him and assumed him to be with the drow who raided Wakeen's rest. Otherwise, you have to either take his word for it, attack him, or leave him.

He will refuse your offers to join you/go to your camp until you reveal to him that you have been tadpoled - either through using the Illithid-worm option, or telling him upfront through normal dialogue. If you didn't peer into his head earlier, you will now, confirming to yourself and him that he's also been infected. Then, you can tell him you're looking for a cure, and he will agree to travel along. This gets you approval from Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion, and disapproval from Lae'zel, Wyll, and Gale.

If you attack, he's as easy a fight as any companion would be at that point. If you choose to leave him be/not tell him about your worm so he refuses to join, he will appear at your camp after two long rests, basically forcing himself to into your party unless you kill him. You find him hanging out around Withers and he tells you he's decided to travel with you from now on, and that he will make himself comfortable.

If you ask for his name, he tells you to just call him whatever you want to (cue like 5 joke dialogue answers - he responds to all of them with a snort and you get approval if you pick any flattering ones). Whatever you ask about him gets you a very blunt, vague response. If you have Shadowheart in your party/are playing as her, she implies he may be suffering from memory loss, finally prompting him to admit to it. Otherwise he only reveals this after a couple more long-rests.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Violent Tendencies

Sheriff! John Price x Fem! Reader

~Small Town AU~

Warnings: Violence, blood, descriptions of injuries, reader is a litle unhinged, mentions of juvenile hall, mentions of mental illnesses, one suggestive line, hints at a blood kink? I think?

Word Count: 7.4k

Author's Note: Is this smut? No. Is this fluff? Also no. Is this hurt/comfort? ALSO NO. WTF IS THIS? I HAVE NO IDEA! I have no fucking clue what I've been on lately, my brain has just been tunneling while writing idk man. This got weird, idk, I've got some pent-up shit I guess. Currently self-indulging in this reader ngl. She's just like me fr. This got a way from me.

Series Masterlist

Part Two Here

Enjoy?

***

It’s a bad fucking day, you decide. 

It wasn’t terrible, up until this very moment, but this is going to ruin your whole goddamn week. If you had any more energy, you might scream. Or cry. Or punch your asshole boss in his ugly mug. Your fingers twitch at your sides, knuckles itching with the urge to feel the sting of his face splitting your skin. Images flicker through your mind, blood spattered and a skull caved on the pavement, the sound of a gurgling death rattle soaked in crimson rings in your ears. In another life, you got more than three hours of sleep. In another life, the effort it would take to land a solid, satisfying punch is readily available to you.

But you don’t. Have the energy, that is. You’re drained after a long, grueling thirteen hour overnight shift at the little 24-hour diner you spend most of your time at. You’d stopped listening altogether after the first thirty seconds or so, your mind going straight to violent daydreams because anything else takes too much effort you aren’t willing to exert. It’s cold this early in the morning, not having bothered grabbing your jacket on your way in last night. Sun’s just barely coming up over the horizon, but your breath still fogs in the air. So does his. He should stop breathing.

The boss caught you as you were leaving, yanking you around to the back door where he’d begun spitting obscenities at you. Something about a broken door from a few nights ago, when an angry customer shoved it hard enough on the way out he actually busted the hinge and dented the metal handle bar. There wasn’t much you could do, outside of reporting the incident over email to the owner, then your boss, then calling the sheriff’s office. Nothing else to do, in a town as small as this one. One of the three deputies came in to look at it, did an incident report, and took a description. You knew the man, always angry, always one step from pummeling the next person on the wrong end of his warpath. Everyone knew him, really. Especially the tiny four-man police force. 

If you weren’t constantly exhausted, you might be in the same boat. Maybe worse. Maybe in a padded room somewhere. Maybe on death row.

If you could focus on anything, you’d have heard the Sheriff’s pickup pull into the parking lot. If you could hear anything outside the buzzing in your head, you’d hear the crunch of gravel under thick-soled boots, heavy where they step up behind you. If you had any awareness about you, you’d watch your boss’s face drop at the sight of the town’s lawman, fixing his posture and plastering a too-wide smile onto his face.

“Sheriff Price! What brings you all the way out here this fine morning?” The words barely flicker across your consciousness. You’re still out of it. Until your boss reaches a hand out and slaps it down on your shoulder, making your entire body flinch hard, hard enough to have you stumbling backward into a brick wall of a man. 

“Easy, sweetheart.” Blearily, you tilt your head back to look up at him, still unfocused but slowly coming back. After a good, long look at you, his attention returns to your boss.

“Laswell is gonna have your ass, Graves. If there’s one thing she doesn’t tolerate, it’s a damn bully.” The two have some back and forth, you can’t be bothered to pay attention when your body is starting to feel the cold seeping into your bones, limbs shaking uncontrollably. Warmth surrounds you suddenly, and you can’t help but soak in the heat as a weight settles on your shoulders. Still, between the exhaustion, stress, and the cold, you’re not feeling great. A door slams somewhere, and your vision is blocked with a different man. A bigger man, wider and sturdier. Big hands grip your shoulders as he leans down into your line of sight, blue eyes and thick mutton chop beard filling your vision.

A memory flickers, blurry and clipped, of a younger boy with those eyes. Piercing cerulean gaze cutting through the red like a hot knife through butter. He was strong then, too, all those years ago. You were reckless, back then. Your knuckles are still scarred from teeth and bone, an ache in your wrists returning every so often to remind you of the past. The good old days. Teenage years littered with blood and violence and the walls of the nearest juvenile hall. That’s where you met him the first time, the two of you locked into that fortress miles away. The two of you learned to hit the same punching bag, holding it steady while the other ripped into the canvas, to avoid punching each other. There’s a dull throb in your shoulders, that punching bag flooding your memory, the patchwork repairs it had to go through after the two of you nearly tore it in half. 

You both seemed to have mellowed out, since then. You haven’t talked to him directly since you both got out of juvie a decade ago.

“You look like you’ve been better, sweetheart.” Now that the threat is gone, you’re able to think past the vermillion fog. 

“Sheriff Price? What are you doing here?” He hums, tugging the thick fabric of his jacket tighter around your shoulders. Ah, that’s what’s warm. And it smells like old worn leather and tobacco, probably from the cigars he smokes. You find comfort in it. 

“It’s Saturday. I’m pickin up breakfast for the boys at the station. What are you doing here, huh? I don’t usually see you working Saturdays.” Great question. What are you still doing here? Oh yes that’s right, getting cursed out by your boss. Wishing you had a hammer to smash his face in with.

“Had a long shift. Got off a half hour ago.” He flicks his wrist up, glances at the old watch with a concerned expression.

“You worked the graveyard shift?” You nod.

“Every day.” It’s not insanely fun, but it’s work you get paid well enough for, especially when the hours between 10pm and 3am are an extra five bucks an hour and nobody tends to walk in besides the odd drunk. Nights are when you’re most active, anyways. Your mother used to call you a nocturnal creature, when she was alive.

“Kate’s gonna be hearin about this.” 

“You don’t need to tell her. I don’t hate it, and nobody else will do the work.” He huffs, then guides you to his truck, holding the passenger door open.

“Get in. I’ll be right back.” Usually you walk home, but right now you don’t really have it in you to decline, especially when he starts the engine and cranks the heat on. He disappears into the diner, leaving you to your devices. You can feel your body shutting down, feel your eyes falling shut. Maybe you can rest your eyes, just for a minute. 

That minute turns into twenty, and you’re jolted awake when Sheriff Price shakes you by the shoulder. A glance outside shows the Sheriff’s Station. Damn, you knocked out. You didn’t even hear him open the door, let alone feel the drive.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart. You need to stop anywhere?” 

“No, thank you.” You rattle off the address, though you’re sure he probably knows where every soul in this town lives by heart. Even you, who he rarely ever sees or interacts with. He walks you to your door, making sure you’re alright as you step over the welcome mat and into the house your parents left to you. The floorboards creak beneath your feet.

“You should start locking your door, sweetheart.” You shrug.

“Small town. Few visitors. Not a whole lot to feel threatened about, if I’m being honest.” Not a lot to worry about, yes. There’s the tiniest sliver of you that waits for the day someone tries something. You’ve got baseball bats and heavy mallets stashed around the house, easily accessible and collecting dust. You shuck his jacket from your shoulders, briefly mourning the loss of heat, ignoring the pang of longing that strikes through you like a thunderbolt when you lose his scent.

“Thank you for taking me home, Sheriff.”

“Just John is fine, darlin. Get some rest. You work tonight, don’t you?” Head heavy, you nod.

“7pm tonight.” That’s your usual shift. Start at 7pm, sometimes 8pm. Last night you just covered for someone, going in at 4pm instead of your normal. He nods, then he’s off. Briefly, you wonder if he ever reminisces about those days, back in juvie. The two of you like two sides of the same coin, fire on fire, unstoppable force and immovable object. They aren’t the fondest memories, but sometimes you can feel yourself flitting back to the impulses, beyond what you let your mind imagine. 

Tonight when you go in, you hear the news that your boss, Phil, has been fired. No more Phil means no more screaming and swearing. No more being backed into a corner. No more dissociation when you’re on the bad end of his ire. Kate comes in, too, along with the Sheriff. Neither of which have ever been seen around the diner this time of night. 

“You alone tonight?” You nod. 

“I’m alone every night, Mrs. Laswell. Once I relieve the night shift, it’s just me until I tag in the morning crew at 4 in the morning.” Her whistle is low over her cherry pie slice.

“Damn. Shoulda known Graves was pulling shit like this.” You shrug from behind the counter.

“I don’t mind. I’m a night owl anyways. ‘Sides, it’s not like there’s a whole lot for me to be worried about around these parts.” John clears his throat then, grabbing your attention.

“That’s actually why we’re here, darlin. A few of your coworkers were here when Graves was let go, and he wasn’t happy. According to them, he was especially cross with you. Figured you should know about it, and we’re going to stick around for the night to make sure nothing happens.” Christ. 

“Phil’s got anger management problems, sure, but I really don’t see a world where he’d actually do anything except cry wolf. He’s like a chihuahua, all bark and no bite.” Kate coughs through her laugh, John is less amused.

“Sometimes people do crazy things when they’re angry and drunk, and Graves is a regular at the bar a few blocks down. The man just lost his job and associates it with you. I’d rather not take that chance.” That’s a fair point. Not like you couldn’t just shoot him, though.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know how to use that.” You hook your thumb over your shoulder, pointing at the double–barreled shotgun mounted on the wall. There’s a box of buckshot in a locked drawer, and the keys are on you at all times, passed between the leads throughout the day. John grunts, nods roughly. 

“It does. Still, we’ll be around tonight.” That’s just fine by you. They’ll probably leave in a few hours.

They don’t leave in a few hours. Both of them stick around and make conversation with you while you clean through your entire shift. Phil doesn’t show up, but you hadn’t expected him to. Coward. John drives you home again, telling you to lock your door. You don’t.

That’s how the next week or so develops. Every night you greet either the Sheriff or one of the Deputies, get them a plate or a pie and clean through your shift. Johnny’s a chatterbox, really keeps the conversation going with his quick wit and endless babbling. Gaz, whose real name is actually Kyle, is less bubbly but still keeps light conversation. Simon’s like a damn ghost. He doesn’t speak, hell you aren’t even sure if he breathes under that black bandana he keeps over his face and the black cowboy hat he never takes off. You could mistake him for an outlaw in an old western if you thought about it hard enough. They all drive you home at the end of your shift, choosing to ignore your protests with the same answer: Sheriff’s orders. Your sigh goes ignored, too, and you generally lack the energy to do anything but accept.

John comes in every other night, too. Most times he’s alone, keeping you company when you’re alone. Being alone together isn’t terrible. 

“This is what you do every night? Wait around and clean?” You nod from your spot on the floor where you scrub the baseboards you’d missed yesterday. 

“Nobody else does this kind of work throughout the day. Last time I skipped over a task it got bad. Sometimes I wonder if the whole place would go down in flames if I weren’t here.” You know it’s not the best situation. If the shop falls apart when one person doesn’t do something, then the place was doomed from the beginning. But it keeps you busy, keeps the itch down.

“I find it hard to believe they can’t do this shit.” 

“Won’t,” you correct, “They won’t. It’s not that they can’t, the whole lot is fully capable. I love most of my coworkers like family, even if I don’t see them very often, but most of them just won’t get down and dirty to scrub the grease from the grout.” His eyebrow lifts, and you ignore the strange glint in his eyes in favor of returning to your task, scrubbing the corners where wall meets floor with a brush and grout-safe cleaner.

He’s always asking you things, when he comes in. How often you actually cook this late at night, if at all. The menu reduces once you’re alone, all simple things you don’t need to make in big batches. Burgers, fries, pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, lunch sandwiches. The pasta dishes get shut down, just because the sauce morning crew preps tends to run out just after 6pm.  Sometimes you’ll have leftover pies from earlier in the day, but all the pastries are delivered from the bakery down the street. He asks what you do on your breaks. You usually whip up a small meal for yourself, and eat at the counter to be able to watch the diner. It’s pretty rare you get anyone coming in during your allotted hour of mealtime.

“You look tired tonight, darlin.” It’s good to know you look how you feel. He’s at the counter, elbow leaning over his mug of coffee. Two raw sugars, no cream. You’ve found a lull in your cleaning frenzy, just having finished a task and looking for the next, leaning directly across from him while he asks his questions.

“I’m always tired, John.” Insomnia is a bitch, truly. Sleep is a battle every day, some days more than others.

“Why’s that?” Shrugging seems to be your default.

“Insomnia. Most days I’m lucky if I get more than six hours.” Worry flickers across his face, but only briefly.

“That’s not good, love.” Again, you shrug.

“That’s life for me. Medication only does so much. Being here every day helps, keeps me on a schedule I can’t deviate from. I didn’t have the energy to work days, dealing with customers had me drained, so I took nights. It works for me.” His nod is heavy, letting the weight of his head tug it down. He’s got that look, the one that says he’s seen it before. You don’t doubt he has. You don’t tell him how dealing with some people makes your blood boil. You don’t mention that, if given the chance, you’d pummel anyone stupid enough to grate on your nerves. Part of you thinks he already knows, and you wouldn’t need to tell him anyway. The voice of a therapist from long ago says you have anger issues. It’s a voice you choose to ignore.

“You didn’t have insomnia back in juvie.” Your spine prickles. He remembers you, there.

“It came after. After I learned to curb the aggressive tendencies.” After you learned to bottle it all up and shove it away, trapped in your head and never expressed. You think, without an outlet, all that leftover energy made you restless. That’s not what the therapist says, though. She says it’s something to do with the depression. You can’t be arsed to remember the intricacies of it all.

“I liked the violent streak you had.” It almost makes you laugh. There’s a small flame in your chest at the notion he'd find your volatile nature amusing.

“The first time we met, I broke your nose for stealing my punching bag.” His smile is lazy, fond.

“Yeah you did. Gave me a shiner, too.” You remember that vividly. The way he’d shoved you out of his path, taking the bag for himself with a ‘get lost’ thrown over his shoulder. He’d been there a month longer than you, and had laid claim on the damn thing apparently. You hit him, then, square in the nose, and when he fell on his ass you got on top of him and didn’t stop throwing punches until he grabbed your wrists and shoved you off. The pummeling match went on for a full, glorious minute, blood flying and fists colliding. It’s a miracle you both dodged and blocked each other enough to avoid losing a tooth, but you came out of it with a black eye, a split lip, and a fractured collarbone. You think you fell in love with him, when you both were yanked apart by officers and got a good, long look at each other. Blood pouring down his neck and shirt, eye starting to swell shut, nose crooked, knuckles bleeding and torn. But those eyes never lost their shine, never faded into dissociation, always sharp and gleaming

“It’s a miracle we ever learned to share the bag.” 

“No miracle, sweetheart. 17-year-old John Price got a hard-on holding that bag while you ripped it to shreds.” The revelation has you frozen solid. You can’t pry your eyes from his gaze, locked onto the tension holding the two of you so still your breathing stops. Blood rushes in your ears, and that itch is back tenfold, your arms throbbing, wrists tense, back coiled. Your muscles aren’t what they used to be, having kept yourself under wraps for so long, not even daring to go to the tiny gym in town to hit the bag there since you’d left the hall. Still, they remember.

The bell on the diner door chimes, jolting you from your trance. John smiles to himself. 

The next time he’s in, it’s like nothing ever happened. Like he didn’t admit to finding you hot back in juvie, like he hadn’t just turned your head inside out. He ignores it. So you do, too. It’s what you’re good at, ignoring the urges. Indulgence only ever in your mind.

“Are you going to be alright, Sheriff?” Confusion etches across his features, head tilting just so.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you never used to be around this late. Most places are closed, and I’ve never seen you in here until recently. As far as I know, you’re a daytime person. And judging by your fourth cup of coffee in two hours, I’d say you’re running on fumes.” It’s only midnight, there’s still four hours left in your shift. He doesn’t show the exhaustion, though, eyes alert and bright, those cerulean blues striking as always. This close you can see the flecks of deep sapphire.

“I’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’m here to watch over you.” He’s still hanging onto that, huh? You’re sure he knows you can take care of yourself.

“Honestly John, it’s been over two weeks. He’s probably moved on with his life. As pathetic as he is, I doubt he still poses any kind of threat.” It’s a shame, really, you just wanted one reason to beat him senseless. It’s his turn to shrug, eyeing you with something serious in his eyes.

“Can’t be too careful. Some people will wait years to settle a score, no matter how shallow it’s been carved in the pavement.” He says it like he’s seen the work of someone like that, been on the brunt end of it and come out the other side a different man. A headline from a few years back flashes in your mind, the local news covering something big you never looked into, and the name John Price was in that same article. That was before he became sheriff, when he was out in a different town doing who knows what. Maybe he’s a little paranoid.

You’ll let him stay, let his deputies all keep a close eye on you for as long as he needs to assuage his anxieties.

Simon’s here tonight, silent, haunting, as he always is. He doesn’t watch you, intent on studying the intricacies of the diner, committing it to memory. He’s been in here enough he should already have the entire floor plan memorized. In an attempt to keep him from dying of boredom, you offer to make him something to eat. His voice is rough, deep, carries a little too loudly across the empty diner but you don’t pay it any mind.

“What do you have?” You rattle off your list, burgers and fries and most breakfast foods. You didn’t pin him as a french toast guy. 

“Eggs? Bacon?”

“Sunny side. Extra crispy.” It’s easy enough. Two thick slices of french toast sat on a platter, two large eggs, sunny-side-up, and a few of the thicker slices of bacon you can find, fried extra crispy, a little char on the edges. You call out to him from your station at the stove.

“You want powdered sugar on the french toast?”

“No, thanks.” That’s a damn shame. His loss, you suppose. You take the plate out to him with a glass bottle of maple syrup. You nearly jump out of your skin when he tugs the bandana off his face, choosing to turn away like he’d need privacy. It’s weird, his face being exposed. He groans at the first bite, and satisfaction rips through you. It’s always nice knowing people enjoy the food you make, even if people are few and far between. People you can tolerate, that is.

“Nobody makes bacon like this. Even the mornings Price brings food from here, it’s not this good. What the hell kind of crack cocaine did you put in the bacon?” A laugh claws from your throat, a bursting thing you can’t help but let out. When he’s not brooding, Simon’s a comic.

“No cocaine, swear it. I leave the grease over it extra long, it almost deep-fries. Then sear it with high heat for the char.” He eats the plate like he’s never eaten before and will never eat again. Damn. You suppose, being as big as he is, he must burn through calories like there’s no tomorrow. After the meal he opens up a lot, much more than he ever had in the last two weeks. He’s funny as all hell when he wants to be, puns and clever phrases always on the tip of his tongue. It’s always delivered dry, like he doesn’t find it funny at all, but you can’t help but notice the little smirk on his face when you snort out another laugh from where you scrub the tile.

Part of you hates that you hadn’t found this side of Simon sooner. Maybe then he’d be less grumpy.

Another thing you don’t find out until tonight, is that Phillip Graves is more of a threat than you’d bargained for.

He waits until Simon pulls off down the road to make his move. If it weren’t for the old bones of the house, constantly moving and creaking, you’d have been a goner. Floorboards creak from behind you as you shut the front door, and all the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up. Knuckles itch, wrists throb, back coils tight.. This is it. The bat under the lamp stand fits well in your hands, and you don’t even wait to see who’s dared to intrude, just turn and swing. The blow is blocked with an arm, a shout and wince echoing from your former boss. He reorients, and you swing again. And again. And again, until he can’t keep up and block anymore. Red colored glasses tint your vision. Something shatters, but you don’t pay it any mind, not when the fog crawls over your head, not when you’ve got something to pulverize. When he finds an opening, he tries to grab the bat, but you yank it and jab it right into his stomach. You need to get out of here. He's still moving. You’re exhausted, you aren’t hitting hard enough.

He keels over, thrown off balance enough for you to sprint up to your bedroom and barricade the door. You’re smart enough to know he can overpower you, especially considering not a single one of your blows managed to topple him. You can hear him shouting obscenities, calling you every colorful name in the book, and he’s at the door trying to knock it down. Thank fuck your dad was the town’s carpenter. Even in a house as old as this one, it’s sturdier than most of the newer construction. Still, you don’t have all the time in the world here. 

Your heart is in your ears as you scramble around the room, punching in the code for the safe where you keep your dad’s old revolver and the box of bullets. It’s loaded as Graves shouts and kicks the door, and you stand in the furthest corner facing the door, gun in hand. Surprisingly, you hadn’t bothered to take anything off in the scuffle, so your bag and your phone are still on you. You call the station.

“Sheriff’s station, what can I do for ya?” That’s John’s voice. An especially hard hit on the door has it rattling and you let out a squeak. 

“Hello? What’s happening?” His tone has grown serious, and it snaps you into gear. Shakily, you find the energy to speak, find your voice in the fading rage and rising fear. You’re an animal, backed into a corner.

“J-john he’s here. Graves he’s,” the door frame starts to creak and splinter, and you yelp, “he’s in the house!” There’s a curse and a couple shouts on the other end.

“Stay there, we’re on our way. Get somewhere safe.” Then he’s gone, and you’re alone. Graves shouts from the door, banging a fist as if knocking was going to let him in.

“Come on, missy. You’ve got some nerve, gettin me fired then gettin all buddy-buddy with the Sheriff.” His words are slurred, he’s definitely drunk. But no less of a threat.

“I didn’t even do anything! You got fired cause you’re a dick!” The anger rears its head through the fear and adrenaline. It’s making you steady yourself, your heart erratic in your chest. 

“Fuckin cunt. Shoulda fired you a long time ago. Laswell’s a bitch that doesn’t know what she’s lost gettin rid of me. Shoulda got rid of you.” What a fucking nut case. When you don’t answer this time, he throws his weight against the door.

“Let me in, little missy.” You have half a mind to fire a warning shot through the door, or five, regardless of whether it’ll hit or not, but you’d be giving yourself away. He doesn’t know you’ve got a gun, and he clearly doesn’t have one or he’d have used it by now. There’s every chance you fire a shot, miss, and he takes off. An involuntary scream crawls up your throat when one of the door panels breaks through, a fist coming through and reaching around to the handle. It’s clumsy, the way he flails around for it, but he manages to unlock it. Not that he can get though now, not with the dresser lodged up against the door, tucked against the uneven floorboards to anchor it. 

“Fuck, you little bitch! I’m coming in sooner or later! You got nowhere to go!” He’s right. The adrenaline alone isn’t enough to keep you alive, throwing weak punches never helped anyone. But all you need to do is hold out until John gets here. He’s furiously trying to widen the hole he made in the door, chipping away at it until he’s got his whole shoulder through in an attempt to move the dresser. In his drunken state, he seems to be ignoring the splinters shredding his skin through the thin flannel he’s wearing. Suddenly you hear a siren, the telltale noise of the Sheriff’s truck barreling down the street, and Graves stills with a curse, his shoulder still embedded in the door, his entire arm on your side of the wood. In some insane stroke of luck, he tries to pull out and gets stuck on an especially thick scrap, digging sharp into his shoulder, drawing blood when he tries again. 

This is the one shot you’ve got. 

You’re on him in a split second, grabbing his hand while he’s distracted and twisting his wrist painfully enough to have him screeching out expletives. But he’s strong, and you don’t think you can hold him long enough for John to get up here. The sirens are still a few houses down at least. If you’re not careful, Graves is gonna grab you and he won’t care how he shreds his arm if he can get to you. The only other thing you have is the revolver, and you can’t know what you’ll hit on the other side. But you know what you’ll hit on this side. With little other choice, you yank his arm as hard as you can and press the barrel right up against his forearm. His arm goes limp, and you hold fast as he stops tugging.

“You move at all, damn it all to the fiery pits of hell I’ll blow your goddamn arm off your body Phil.” You can hear his breathing pick up, the little twinge of fear in his voice. It sends a thrill down your spine.

“You wouldn’t dare. You ain’t got the nerve.” You pull the hammer back, rest the length of the barrel over his arm to point the business end at the wall and pull the trigger. He jumps, screams just a little, before he realizes he hasn’t been shot. Yet.

“That was the only warning shot you’re getting.” He’s still, then, when you reorient the end to pin his arm. He flinches, but that’s all he dares to move. You hear it, then, the front door slamming open and shouting through the house. Heavy boots stomp their way through the house, more than one pair, and John’s voice comes through, rage carrying it enough you can feel the baritone through your chest.

“Graves!”

“Here! Upstairs, he’s stuck in the door!” You yell through the house, and you can hear them coming up like a stampede, stopping on the other side of the door. With Graves stuck as he is, John’s attention is quickly on you, calling through the door.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Are you shot?” 

“No, I’m fine. It was a warning shot, I’ve got a revolver.” There’s a small curse on the other side, and you decide it’s best you put the gun away. It’s unloaded, the chamber cleared, and locked away in its proper place in the safe while John and whoever else he’d brought, probably Simon, works to get him unstuck. He’s towed off somewhere, and between your own fading adrenaline and climbing exhaustion, you manage to move the dresser enough to yank open the splintering door. John is there, two big hands on your shoulders and leaning down to look you in the eyes. His own baby blues flutter over your form, checking you over for anything amiss. 

“You alright, darlin?” With everything catching up to you, you’re a bit fried, and you’re trembling where you stand. He yanks you in, wrapping his arms tight around you and all you have the energy to do is shake and weep. Rage and fear and exhaustion, all pouring out. Rough fingers dig into your scalp, a big hand rubs across your back, grounding you while you sob until your body is slumping into his.

“Alright, there you are. You alright to come down to the station?” Not really, but you know you have to go and give a statement, especially now while everything’s fresh. Besides, you don’t know if you can actually sleep despite the exhaustion. So you nod, and let John herd you into his pickup. All the deputies are already there when you arrive, and Graves is in one of the two cells, bandages and stitches covering his arms and face. He’s got a swollen eye, cheekbone already purpling, and his left arm is in a full cast. At least you did some damage.

Part of you feels for the guy, but that gets overlooked when he sticks his head in the spaces between the bars and sneers at you.

“This ain’t over.” Simon reaches through the bars and grabs him by the collar, yanking him forward to whack his head on the bars. It’s jarring, and John tells him to cool it, but you nearly laugh at the state Graves is in. 

“Somethin funny, darlin?” John asks, stepping behind his desk to get the paperwork started. You find some of your courage, you think, or maybe the exhaustion has doused all your common sense and fired your nerves, but you step toward the cage. When Graves lunges for you, you stay just out of his reach. Simon steps forward first, Kyle and Johnny not far behind, but you hold a hand out to keep them back. He’s mine.

“It’s fine, he can’t touch me. He’s trying to be threatening but…I’m out here. And he’s in there.” You look him in the eyes when you say it, even though you’re talking like he isn’t even in the room. You can see the anger take over, a vein bulging so far out in his neck it might just burst. Now here, in the light, you can actually see the damage you’d done. There’s a cut stitched through his eyebrow, the swelling tugging at the sutures. He couldn’t block everything with his hand, that’s for damn sure. There’s blood seeping through the bandages on his right arm, and his wrist is wrapped tight. Pride swells in you, you must have sprained it with how badly you twisted it. 

“You’re gonna pay for what you’ve done, little bitch.” At that, you really laugh, out loud, in his face.

“See, here’s the thing, Phillip. I haven’t done jack shit and you know it. But you? You’ve been nothing but a self-serving, hypocritical, micro-managing, bullshit-spewing, no-good, rotten piece of horse shit who only cares about intimidating the women that work under him for some sort of power grab to compensate for the shrimp you’ve got between your legs.” You can hear blood rushing in your ears, adrenaline coming back as you finally let out the years of pent-up rage you’ve got toward this guy.

“Not a single human being on this damn planet would touch you romantically or sexually with a ten-foot pole even if their lives depended on it, and instead of trying to be a decent human being you’ve decided to make that everyone’s problem.” You’ve leaned in, just a little, and he reaches for you again through the bars. But this time you’re ready, your vision sharp and your reaction time quick. It’s his bandaged wrist he reaches for you with, but it doesn’t really matter, not when you force his palm down in a 90-degree angle and push his arm so the bar digs into the divot behind his shoulder socket, his chest and face squished against the bars of his rat cage.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the Sheriff stand slowly from his desk, and the three deputies step just a smidge closer to you. Whether for your safety, or Graves’, it doesn’t matter, but you need to make this quick.

“It wouldn’t even be hard, Graves. Just a little push and your shoulder is coming right out of the socket.” He’s trembling, you can feel it, with the exertion he’s using to attempt to get out. He’s right where you want him though, no amount of significant movement will result in anything less than excruciating pain and a dislocated something. When you lean just a little, he’s crying out.

“Fuck! You’re a crazy bitch! Let me go!” The interaction has made your vision go so sharp you can’t really see anything outside of Graves’ body, his arm bent at an awkward angle where you hold it hostage, his face screwed up from the pain and a few small tears falling down to his neck. If you focus hard enough, you can feel yourself shaking, vibrating, with the adrenaline rush. For a split second, you consider dislocating his shoulder for the hell of it, consider pushing until you feel it pop right out for all the torment he’s given you. John’s large, warm hands come to your shoulders, thick fingers digging gently into the muscles you’re only now realizing are coiled tight like a cobra. You can smell him, cigar smoke and leather, men’s deodorant and the crisp morning air. His voice is rough in your ear, breath hot on your neck when he leans down.

“Breathe, sweetheart.” One of his hands drops to your stomach, right below your ribcage, and he pushes down to cage you against his body. The action pushes the breath from you, and when he lets up you breathe it right back in. 

“There you go. Relax. Let him go now, don’t waste your energy.” His other hand comes up and grabs your wrist gently, pressing a rough thumb into the tendons in your wrist, and the moment you let your grip lax, Graves yanks his hand from you and stumbles back into the furthest corner of the cell. 

“Good girl.” If you were a little less rattled, if your mind were a little less frayed, you wouldn’t preen at the praise. And if you had any mind left you’d pull away from the kiss pressed into your temple, not melt into it.

With Graves gone silent, the paperwork gets done in about twenty minutes. You relay the events of the day; when you got home, when he’d attacked, what you’d done to defend yourself. Your nerves are shot, your head is pounding, and the sun shining in through the window is making the space between your eyes hurt. But it’s done, and John drives you home after calling Kate and explaining the situation. Whatever happens with the diner, it’s not your business or your problem for the next four days, seeing as she’s ordered you to take time off and recover. 

Stepping into your house is jarring, to say the least. The entryway is covered in shards of ceramic, the lamp atop it having shattered in the scuffle. The carpet is rumpled from where Graves stumbled over it. The lamp’s cord had been ripped from the wall, and the outlet cover had come with it, the old plastic brittle and fragile. You’ve gotta clean this up. John comes up behind you, pressing his chest into your back.

“Get to bed, darlin. You can clean it later.” You shake your head.

“I won’t be able to sleep yet. Might as well get this out the way.” He huffs, but you know he’s not going to force you into bed. Instead, he helps you clean. The carpet is picked up and dusted off outside while you sweep around the table the lamp used to sit on, clearing most of the debris with the broom. There’s probably a few miniscule shards around, so you take a vacuum over the hardwood then a damp microfiber cloth to really make sure you get it all. John says he can help replace the outlet cover, but you know how to do it. You’ll just have to go buy a new one later.

The bedroom is another story completely. The door is ruined, a hole splintering near the handle. When you try to swing it, you find it’s only hanging by one hinge. You’ll have to replace the whole door, but thankfully the hinges themselves only popped free and didn’t tear from the frame. John makes quick work of the door, popping the last hinge and taking the whole thing out to his pickup. Somewhere in your brain, you note that he’s still damn strong. He helps return the dresser to its original place, and you clean up the splintered wood from the floor and carpet. By the time everything’s done and dusted, you can feel the exhaustion tugging your body down. 

“Get some sleep now, sweetheart. After a day like today you need the rest.” You hum, nod, but you don’t move toward the bed. Paranoia crawls over your skin like mites, as you glare at the empty doorway. No door, no barrier. Your skin begins to itch. John steps toward you and rests his hand on your shoulder, dragging his rough palm up to hold your neck and jaw.

“He can’t get you. You saw him down at the station, he’s not getting past the boys.” Deep breaths, you remind yourself. Breathe. Still, your fingers twitch. John doesn’t stop you when you take off down the stairs, only to watch you lock and deadbolt the front door, then yank on it as hard as you can. You do the same for the kitchen door, and without a deadbolt you wedge the step stool beneath the handle. The windows are next. Locking and jiggling them to make sure they don’t shimmy open. John only watches you as you bounce around the house, securing the perimeter like you’re in some kind of a fortress. When you’re done, he drags you up to your bedroom again. 

“Better?” When you nod, your eyes droop and threaten to close on you for good. You can feel yourself sway on your feet, and John catches you before you can stumble and fall, gently pushing you back onto the bed. 

“Now sleep.” You almost nod off, but then realize something.

“Wait, I have to let you out. I just locked you in here.” He shushes you, planting a hand on your chest and holding you down when you try to get up.

“None of that. I’m staying here.” 

“You are?” Why would he do that?

“Graves is locked up tight, but you clearly don’t feel safe in your own home. I’m staying for your peace of mind. And mine, knowing you’ve gone to bed.” Huh. You suppose that’s reason enough. You don’t dwell on it, can’t dwell on it, when your body feels so heavy. Sleep pulls you under the moment you curl up on the sheets.

Back in the station, the three deputies share a knowing look. Graves is still in his corner, brooding. The tension from your little outburst lingers in the air, the anger having dissipated but the memory fresh. Johnny speaks first.

“She’s just fuckin’ like ‘im, eh?” Simon snorts.

“I’ll say. You think he’d have let her dislocate his shoulder?” It’s a rhetorical question. Kyle chuckles from his perch against the wall.

“I think he wanted her to do it. I think if he weren’t trying to keep her from dealing with the legalities of it, he’d have let her do that and more, and he’d have helped.” The three nod in agreement, a rare sight. Simon’s laughing to himself again.

“Two angry peas in a violent little pod, they are. Both of ‘em ready to strike on a hairpin trigger. John won’t be able to stay the bigger man for long.” Kyle shakes his head.

“In another life, those two rule a damn kingdom with iron fists and velvet gloves. If he has any say in the matter, she’ll be learning how to fight proper soon. When do you think he’ll finally get off his ass and ask her on a date?” Johnny cackles, full-chested.

“Date? John Price doesn’t ask women on dates. He’s gonna swindle his way into her life and one day she’ll look at the ring on her finger and not know when he’d slipped it on ‘er.”

[prinzrupprecht]

When They Save You

Featuring: Kintoki, Wukong, Cu and Apollo

3 folklore heroes and who invited Apollo?

Warnings? Nope! Some cute moments and mentions of folklore.

Kintoki

Even when he spotted you fighting for your life from the demon called Shuten-doji… he couldn’t just stand back and watch you— a human get killed by it.

The demon has been terrorizing the land you resided on for quite some time. Kintoki was following its footsteps and tracking the demon down.

You were quite skilled in martial arts and tackling the creature, but… the difference in power was massive and you would surely die.

That is when he stepped in and took the blow head on using his axe to defend himself while protecting you. “Ha! Oh my–" Kintoki didn’t stop there while he parried the monster’s attacks while you stayed behind him. You were more confused than ever about why he even saved you. Nobody ever bothered to kill this creature— or monster. You wanted to die trying even when everyone else was suffering from it. Many disappearances of the villagers were because of this monster!

The man that saved you had ran off the monster and unfortunately, didn’t kill it in time. What a coward! “My master should have it covered…” the man who saved you had a scar on the right side of his face and you were blushing red from his comment.

“Wh–who are you?” You questioned but covered your mouth as you seemed to be rude by asking that right away.

“Huh? Oh… my bad for not introducing myself. I’m Kintoki. Sakata Kintoki. And you miss… should go home and not try fighting demons in the middle of the night. Like seriously, you’ll get yourself killed.” He sighed dramatically as he was scolding you. You did pout but he was right.

“I have no home, so what’s the point? Might as well die trying? Everyone is gone.” You looked over the mountain to look at the destruction the demon had already caused. Kintoki had felt bad… but an idea had popped into his head.

“Then how about… you join me and my master on our journey. I’ll teach you how to actually fight next time.” Kintoki brought his face down to yours to look at you closely.

“Y– You’ll let me?!” Excitement had filled you. This kind and handsome man would help train you properly. Ahhh~ little did you know he was developing more of a liking to you and your fighting spirit touched his heart.

Wukong

You were incredibly stubborn and did things on your own whether others told you not to or if a situation was too dangerous. You were one of Tang Sanzang’s disciples. You were the first before Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing were taken under the old man. They were annoying to you but it was no bother as long as you did as you wanted.

That was when… you wandered off into an unknown cave and as you thought it was strange this mysterious cave existed all of a sudden. The place was filled with mysterious types of magic. Did a demon reside here? Maybe it’s best to—

“Oh~? A small one has entered my home? Seems like dinner will be earlier than usual~” your heart nearly froze. Wh–what?! You tried to quickly think how Sun Wukong would try to get out of certain tricky situations. He was far smarter than you!

“Sorry! I was just leaving!” You tried to run out of the cave but the entrance was gone or was never there. Was this an illusionary spell? You couldn’t escape and your heart was starting to feel heavy.

The demon refused for you to leave its cave and that’s when panic started to rise in your chest. Would Wukong, and the others would even care if you died? You clung against the wall but the strike you had expected to land against you never came. Your mind was awakened by a burst of sunlight. The place was under some spell that made it impossible to leave.

“Why did you leave?” Wukong has asked irritatedly from behind. He was holding his staff over his head. The demon had already been defeated?! It was completely ripped to sheds. Huh?

“I just—"

“Big bro was worried about you!” Pigsy aka known as Zhu Bajie sighed. Sha Wujing and Tang Sanzang were outside of the cave. Your heart stammered in your chest. Sun Wukong was worried about you?

“Shouldn’t have wandered off. Look at what could’ve happened…” Sha Wujing looked over to the demon that was lying dead. Wukong was silent and didn’t know what to process in the moment. This wasn’t the first time and whenever you wanted to wander off somewhere, he always told you to tell him before just leaving.

You muttered a sorry and hung your head low. Even your master had reminded you that Wukong was the one that saved you. Your chest tightened as hope was soon rising again within you. You had always liked him… but you were certain he felt nothing for you. Maybe this was why you always rebelled?

Wukong was a very keen observer and noticed how gloomy you looked. He decided he wouldn’t be too harsh on you. “I told you already, just tell me if you want to be stupid and wander off so I can make sure you don’t get killed, alright?” He was stretching his arms over his head. He was always too caring for you and reminded you numerous of times he wouldn’t just rescue anyone like that. Not even his sworn brothers who can look after themselves.

You nodded slowly and smiled. You agreed to stick by their side and stop your rebellious nature. After all, he did as well. Once a long time ago… you’re sworn to him and only him.

Cú Culainn

He was always there whenever you wanted him there, but he wasn’t there when you needed him… with you being captured by the Connacht army. Your days were numbered while being tortured for information.

No matter how much you didn’t cave into the queen. Medb. You were certain… Cú would hear about your death and you’ll never know his reaction. Heh…

What did you even do to deserve this life? All I wanted was peace and no wars. “So, you’re going to talk yet?” The queen walked into your prison cell but you refused to even look up to her. However… a loud crash was heard from outside of Connacht.

“THE HELL IS HAPPENING OUT THERE?!” Medb screamed but you already knew. The Ulaid army led by Conchobar Mac Nessa had come?! That means… Cú Chulainn must be here as well?

“Damnit, they came for this stupid bitch—"

“We must evacuate now!” Another one of her soldiers warned her. While you were stuck in the cell. You wanted to laugh like a crazy person. No, no, no… fuck. You were left alone while you heard the dying screams of men outside. You wondered what was going on. You couldn’t see anything outside.

Your breathing was hitched when the commotion outside was seizing to die down. Huge rocks were being slingshotted against the castle infrastructure. You were waiting for one to smash through the prism side but nothing came. Would you die in here?

You heard someone call your name but the sound was barely audible. Huh? You wanted to shout but no words came out of your mouth. Even as much as you gripped the bars of the cell.

“Oh, there you are!” Cu’s voice has broken your thought loop of wondering how long you’ve been in the prison cell. The whole place probably is abandoned. He broke the metal frame of the cell to get to you.

“I– I thought I was going to die…” you were pulled into him. He looked dirty from fighting outside and his bare chest was still somehow warm.

“Hey, I told you before I wouldn’t let that happen. Come on let’s get out of this haunted castle.” He noticed that you wouldn’t move and just went to carry you instead over his shoulder.

“H-Hey!” You squeaked but Cú didn’t listen and just left the cursed palace that was once Medb’s.

“Relax, stop squirming will ya?” Cú was being gentle with you. You were uncomfortable with being held like a sandbag over his shoulders. However, would you two be safe? You pouted and puffed your cheeks out stubbornly. Did Cú worry when you went missing? Maybe it was best to not know. You sighed and just let your body relax over his uncomfortable shoulder.

“Okay, we’re here.” Heh? You placed you down but the area was in the middle of the woods.

“Are we fine out here?! We’re in the middle of nowhere!” You shouted. Cú thought how cute you were when you got mad but rolled his eyes ignoring you.

“Sure, I’ll just give you back to my aunt.” Cú pulled you down next to him by the broken tree to press up against. You knew he wouldn’t ever hand you back over to that wicked woman. You sighed but maybe it’s for the better to be alone and isolated for now.

“Fine… can you explain why the creepy location?” You looked up at him.

“Hmm…” he yawned before continuing, “I just wanted to be alone... with you, is there a problem with that?” You had already relaxed next to his warm body while shaking your head. As much of a tiring journey it was, you didn’t complain anymore and just followed where ever Cú went like usual.

Apollo

You had no idea what was happening when Olympus was invaded by hundreds of giants. You were told by some of the servants to stay away and to let the gods take care of it.

“Ah—! You shouldn’t be out here!” One of the women saw you lurking outside seeing the destruction that was happening to Valhalla. How many were there? You didn’t even care. You wanted to protect your home.

“I’m leaving,” you grabbed your staff quickly. How much would this go on for? Would Apollo get mad at you? Your anger was clouding your judgement. It shouldn’t matter.

You tried to fight your way towards the main battle but the gods must’ve been fighting for some time. Many bodies were lying scattered of both the giants and guards of the Olympus. Where was Apollo?!

Some had tried to kill you when you were spotted but were too slow. You were much more agile and quicker on your feet. Your magical power resonating from your staff were far more powerful than you remembered.

You were a bit late but that wasn’t all of it. “L-Lady—"

“Get down!” You felt a wave of heat from a giant come hurling towards you and the others who were nearby. You thought you were finished from the destructive attack. Your staff was completely shattered in an instant. However, something was blocking your line of vision.

“Huh?! Who— Who is there?” Your cheeks flushed red noticing Apollo had shielded you with his Moonlight of Artremis giant statue from the attack just now.

Everyone was saved… even you. Apollo gave you a solemn look of disappointment and disgust? You were ashamed that you even tried to fight all by yourself.

“You poor thing…” Apollo says but you were wondering whether he actually was caring for your well-being or was he acting? He had already eliminated the giants while he was observing your dirty form. You weren’t so beautiful anymore. Not to him… you trembled in your spot trying to lift your body but fell down once more.

“Try not to move so much,” he cradled your small fragile form in his arms. He wasn’t upset? He whispered sweet things in your ear to calm you down. Your heart was beating faster. He was everything to you… still.

“You fought so beautifully, and still… you shouldn’t have come. Without me here, you would’ve been dead from that explosion.” He says so calmly but there wasn’t any hint of worry in his tone. You were… still beautiful to him? A leap of happiness swelled your heart.

“C–Can we return?” While clinging onto him, he didn’t say anything but decided to take you with him back to the palace. He still held onto you and refused to let go. He loved the things that he considered beautiful and you were one of them.

I had returned once more for a nice rare one shot of 4 characters. I may do a part 2. Unsure yet, but imma have to get back on chiruran soon.

[k4marina]

— Prologue: Dragonstone|| Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a trip to Dragonstone goes a little wrong, or does it?

game of thrones x modern!reader

4.5k+ word count

sereis masterlist || next part

"Why are we doing this during the hottest day of the year, again?" Daeron mutters, using the brochure that was given to us at the beginning of the tour as a fan.

If I could, I would've replied, but the heat was also getting to me, draining away my energy. And, on top of the scorching heat, I'd just finished the last of my water. I pursed my lips together, the line wasn’t that long and I’m sure I can buy another overpriced water bottle after we visited the caves.

The group tour guide turned back to us, just as exhausted, and somewhat bashful. He said something, but I couldn't be bothered with it as I was too focused to not tip over from the heat. It was probably something like “only a few more minutes and we’ll be outta the heat, folks,” with an awkward smile or something.

The line to the caves under the castles was stupidly long, but it's no surprise. So much history was in those caves and so many mysteries had come full circle there. And, the deeper they dug, the more they uncovered the history of the Targaryens that lived there from when Aenar Targaryen moved his entire family to Dragonstone after his daughter, Daenys “the Dreamer” dreamed of the Doom of Valyria. 

"Who's idea was it to come here for our research trip?" I didn't bother looking over at him, knowing that I'd be blinded by the sun that shone directly behind his big head.

“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” I quipped. “Besides, almost everything on this island is connected to the Targaryens. It might come useful when we have to write our research paper.”

The line moved up until our group was at the front of the line. A small group of students, along with Daeron and I, were on Dragonstone for our research projects. Some of the other students had decided to stay in Kings Landing or go to other parts of Westeros for their research.

Everyone was to spend a week in their respective areas and gather all the information they needed before heading back to Kings Landing to write and then later present their topics. Some chose to do it themselves whilst others, like us, decided to go with someone else.

Today was the first day of our stay on Dragonstone. Daeron and I had decided to check out the caves and the island's beaches before we would explore the labyrinth-like castle.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a headache approaching. My hand reached up to my necklace that rested on my chest. The chain was long enough for it to hang in the dip of my breast.

Not only did I come here for my project, but also for me. The necklace around my neck has been in my family for generations, but no one knows from where. It’s made entirely of Valyrian Steel, which was rare back in the day, and even rarer now.

As a child, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I grew older and more curious that I started asking questions. First to my family, but all I got was even more confusing answers that led me nowhere. Then I turned towards the internet, scouring for hours until I had found it.

On the official Dragonstone website, I found pictures of the caves under the castle and possibly under the entire island. On one of the walls was a crude hand drawing of my necklace. Two dragons around a sword with a ruby in the middle –though, the ruby was replaced with a red dot. Regardless, the cave painting matched. 

The line moved up and Daeron gently pushed me up while I was lost in my thoughts. “You good?” He asks. I nod, “Yeah. The heat’s just a lot.” He gives an understanding look. Once the tour guide is given the green light, he begins to lead up to the entrance of the cave.

"Ready?" Daeron asks. I nodded and we begin walking. Once we entered the cave, my jaw was on the floor. I had seen pictures of the caves, but seeing it in real life was far more beautiful.

The deeper we got we could see the cave paintings done by the Children of the Forest which Daenerys and Jon had found. As the guide droned on about the cave paintings, I could feel my headache intensify. Why was it so hot in here? 

The deeper and deeper we went into the caves, the worse it got. My chest started to feel heavy. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The back of my throat burned and I felt like throwing up, but I pushed forward. 

My eyes raked the the cave walls, Where was it? Finally, I was able to see it. The markings were next to a few unknown ones. A sign with some information was hung up next to it. Despite my head pounding I was still able to read the bold words. 

Unknown markings made by who researchers believe are the Targaryens. The paint used seemed to be as old as when Aenar Targaryen moved his family to Dragonstone.

By the time I finished reading, I could feel my head pounding so loudly in my ear. It felt like an ice pick was being hammered into the side of my head. I could hear muffled voices call out, but to who I didn’t know. The room started to spin and a ringing sound filled my ears.

A hand, most likely Derons, reached out and turned me around. I could see his mouth moving, but no words coming out. My chest felt like it was overheating while my head continued to throb. Everything turned blurry and then it went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the cave. The cold stone floor had helped with bringing my body temperature down. And, my head didn't hurt anymore. After getting up, I looked around the cave. It was darker, and quiet.

Where was everyone?

Carefully, I made my way out of the cave. It was harder to walk out of the cave and the spotlights that were on the walls weren’t on. Once I was outside I was met with the night sky.

All the tents and other buildings around the beach were gone, as if they'd never been there.

Okay, this is weird.

"Hello?" My voice came out horse like I hadn’t spoken in a long time. "Hello? Is anyone there? Daeron?" 

My feet moved on their own and I tried to find someone, anyone. But there was no one. How could a populated area with tents and buildings disappear within hours?

Retracing my steps, I found the stairs that would lead me back to the Help Center that were posted around for lost tourists, but like the beach, there was nothing. Matter a fact, even the lamppost that were posted into the ground, the banners, the signs –everything was gone.

"What the actual fuck?" Panic creeped up and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. "Gods, If this is some kinda sick fucking joke..."

At this point, I was running towards the castle. For what? I didn't know, but surely there had to be something there. The grand doors seemed to be closed so I tried to find another way in. I guess you could say I found something like a side door that took a little force to open. 

The inside of the castle was grand. High walls, banners held high, candles and lamps lit all around. Truly, it was amazing. As I was gawking at the architecture I failed to notice unknown voices walking towards me. 

“Halt!” Two unknown men dressed in what looked like armor cornered me, pointing their spears at me. “State your name! Who are you?” 

I stuttered out my name, raising my hands up so they could see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to do anything, I swear.” 

The two men shared a look and a few hushed words before one of them walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me along. 

“Ow!” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. “What the fuck dude. I said I wasn’t a threat.”

“Khaleesi will decide if you are or are not a threat.” The man who wasn’t holding onto me said. 

Khaleesi? What Khaleesi?

“Oh please don’t tell me I just walked into those real-life roleplaying things.” I groaned, earning side eyes from both of the men. 

They led me down a series of hall ways, each one intricate as the other until we stood outside of a set of polished stone double doors. Another pair of men dressed just like the cosplayers that brought me here stood in front of the doors. Without having to say any words they opened the grand doors. 

Slowly, I could see the inside being revealed. 

There, on the elevated platform stood the Throne of Dragonstone, where all the Targaryen heirs of the Iron Throne sat as they took the title “Prince of Dragonstone.” A light push brought me back as I was dragged closer to the throne. 

“Khaleesi,” the guard called out. Before I could ask who they were speaking to, an unknown voice answered. 

“What is it?” 

Light footsteps were heard from behind a wall and a woman emerged from behind it. Except it wasn’t just any woman. Even a child would know who she was. Everyone around the world knows her. 

She was Daenerys Targaryen. 

Mother of Dragons. 

The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

The Unburnt.

The Breaker of Chains. 

I could feel time slow down as I watched her walk over to the throne and sit down. My blood turned cold as she sat in front of me. 

No.

No.

She’s dead.

This can’t be happening.

It’s not possible.

It’s not. I have better chances of reviving dragons than traveling back in time-

“What is this?” Daenerys eyed me, confused at my appearance and why I was even here before looking at the two men. 

“We found this unknown woman wandering around the castle, Your Grace.” 

She eyed me, as if wanting me to plead my case, but the words died in my throat. Why wouldn’t they when Daenerys fucking Targaryen was right in front of me. A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t rack my brain to find one answer. 

Daenerys squinted before speaking again, this time directly towards me. “Who are you?” The High Valyrian rolled easily off of her tongue like a true Targaryen. Those three words held so much power and conviction, like a true Queen.

“Y/n Vellarys!…” I rushed to reply in Valyrian. 

“You speak good Valyrian.” She praises, but it's quickly pushed away. “But that doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

What should I do? I bit my bottom lip as nervousness filled my body. 

Knowing that if I lie, I’ll be fileted, I took a deep breath before responding. “I don't know. I.. I,” I paused, not knowing if I should continue. If this was real then I only wanted her to know, “Can we be alone.. please?” 

The two men besides me visibly tense up, but don’t speak up. Daenerys looks down at us, seemingly in thought before she nodded. The two men bow before turning around to leave. The double doors closed with a loud thud. 

“We’re alone now, you may continue.” 

I nervously swallowed. Here we go. “This might sound weird, but.. I don’t know how I got here. I.. I woke up in the caves under the castle… alone.”

Daenerys’ face stayed neutral as I relayed the information. She seemed to take some time to process what I had just said. “Do you think I’m a fool?” 

I could feel my heart fall all the way down. Fuck.

“You woke up in the caves alone?” She repeats. “Not even a child would come up with such a stupid story like this.”

“N-n-no, Daener- I mean, Your Grace. I swear to the Gods that I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Especially when you could get rid of me with your dragons in a second.”

She seemed to mull over my words, as if weighing her options. “Alright, let's say you’re telling the truth. Your story still doesn’t make sense. How do you just “wake up” in a cave?” 

Now or never, I guess. 

“Actually,” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not from here. I come from-” The future. Fucking hell, how cliché. “-I come from a different… time.” 

Daenerys squinted and I could see the clogs in her brain moving. “You mean you’re from the future?” 

Jeez. Ripped the bandage right off. 

“Well –uh, yes,” I say. “I was touring the caves and then I –I fell unconscious or something, I still don’t know, I just know that when I woke up I ended up here.” 

I let out a frustrated sigh. What if this was just a dream and that all of this is just my imagination running wild. 

“That necklace.” 

Huh? What is she talking about? 

 I looked up, confused. “What?” 

She pointed towards my chest. I looked down and I could see my necklace was out. “What about it?” I asked.

“Where did you get it?” 

“It’s mine.” I replied. “It’s been in my family for generations. Why?” 

Now it was Daenerys’ turn to look a little nervous. 

“I’ve seen it in my dream.”

“Your dream? Like, one of those Dragon Dreams?” I ask. She gives a nod, “While we were sailing to Dragonstone I had a dream of a woman with silver hair and that necklace. Because I couldn’t see her face, I thought it was me. I’ve turned the treasury over looking for them; however, it seems that I dreamt of you.”

Ho-ly Fuck. Daenerys’ dreamt about me. What the hell. I’m about to throw up. 

“What?” Now it was my time to be skeptical of what was being said. “You dreamt about me and my necklace?”

She nodded. “It seems odd, but a Dragon Dream has never been wrong.”

“Ture, but that still leaves a lot of blanks.” My hand subconsciously went up to hold my necklace while I tried to think back. 

The deeper I walked into the cave the more my head started to hurt, but that was most likely because of dehydration… probably. But then there was a burning feeling on my chest when I looked at the symbol on the wall that matched my necklace and the burning feeling got even more intense and it felt like it was about to burn my skin-

“Fuck.” I groaned, letting go of the necklace. The outburst made Daenerys frown, “Are you alright?”

I looked down at my hands and at my necklace before looking into her eyes. “I think my necklace tried to burn me, like last time.” 

“Last time?” She frowned. “How can a necklace burn someone?”

“I don’t know. It happened before I passed out in the cave.” I let out a sigh. “Gods, what is going on.” 

“It seems that this was the God's doing,” Daenerys says, as if it was a fact. “They’ve brought you here.” 

“The Gods?” I repeat. Sure, in some sense they did bring me here. “But why?” 

“That may be something for you to find out.” Daenerys stood from the throne, walking down the steps until she was right in front of me. “I was lost once, but then the Gods gifted me my children to show me my true purpose.” 

“The Iron Throne.” I thought back to my history classes where I learned that for the fight for the Iron Throne, Daenerys lost her life as she fell into what historians said was “Targaryen Madness,” but I’ve always felt that there’s more to it. 

“It’s late, I’ll have the servants bring you to a spare room for you to rest in for the night.” As if on cue, the guards from before stepped up to us. “We can talk further tomorrow morning.”

Daenerys turned to leave from where she came from. The guards bowed as she left. Once she was gone they brought me to a spare room somewhere in the castle, this time without having to pull me around. 

The hallways were nearly empty, meaning there weren’t a lot of people living here or servants working in the castle. The most I’d seen was guards posted around. Once we were in front of two thick double doors the guards stepped back waiting for me to open them. 

It took a little force to open the door, but once I was inside, my jaw was on the floor. Despite everything being made of stone, the walls were covered in rich tapestry. There was a giant bed with lavish looking furs laid atop the bed and maroon bed sheets. 

Behind me, a servant walked in with a few sets of clothes and laid them on the bed. “We’ve prepared you some clothes,” she said. “Would you like to change now or take a bath?” 

As if on cue, I could feel how dirty I was since I was practically on the cave floors for Gods knows how long. 

“A bath would be fine, thank you,” I replied. It honestly felt weird watching servants work. Not that it was bad, just the fact that in the modern day you don’t have them. Sure maybe someone who cleans your home or makes you food, but servants?

Once they had pulled out the massive tub and manually poured in the hot water they led me to the tub. One of their hands went up to my shirt's edge and the other to my pants. 

“W-wait!” They all looked at me confused. 

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” One of the servants asked. 

No it’s not. You’re taking my clothes off. And sure, it’s your job to do practically everything for a highborn, but that ain’t me. 

“Uh, there’s no need for… all of this. I can do it myself.” 

“Are you sure?” Another girl asked. “It’s our duty to serve you.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I replied awkwardly. “Just not really used to all of… this. Um, anyways I can take it from here. You guys can go…” 

I internally cringed at my words. Gods, I sounded like an idiot, but could you blame me? 

The girls reluctantly agreed, leaving me alone in the room. Once they were gone I let out a sigh and began to undress myself. The water was hot, but it was fine since I practically liked showering in lava every morning. 

Settling into the tub I finally relaxed. This entire thing was just so… bizarre. At first, I thought it was some sort of dream, but that searing pain I felt wasn’t something I could just imagine. 

My necklace burned me. 

And it burned me when I first saw the markings on the cave walls. I looked down at my chest and hand, but saw nothing. 

Okay, weird. 

That aside, why was I even brought here? Why me? What do I have that made me so special that I had to be flung into this era of time?

“Think, y/n, think,” I muttered to myself. The dream. Daenerys’ dream about the necklace. But wait, no history books said anything about her having a dragon dream. Could this maybe be connected?  

For the next hour, I mulled over my options while I soaked in the tub that had turned lukewarm. Having enough, I got up and grabbed the towels that the servants had thankfully set close for me. 

The clothes that they had laid out for me were a bunch of nightgowns. Thankfully, they were my size. I decided to wear a simple white nightgown. 

Laying under the mountain of covers and blankets, I finally let myself completely relax, falling asleep. Hopefully tomorrow’s discussions can help this situation get better or at least easier. 

I woke up to the sun glaring down into my face. Groaning, I turned to my side, hoping to get some more sleep. But the damage was done. 

I could hear light shuffling in the room and things being moved around. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly flash-banged. All the windows (that are floor to ceiling length) were opened and the curtains were drawn back. 

A few servants from last night and a few new faces worked around the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, catching the attention of one of the girls. 

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?” 

“Morning,” my voice came out a little low and rough. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re getting you ready for the day,” the girl replies, matter of factly. “You will be having your morning meal with the Queen. We’ve already drawn you a fresh new bath and arranged a new set of clothes.” 

I looked at where the tub was last night, nothing that was gone, along with my clothes. 

“Where are my clothes?” I asked. 

“We’ve sent them to get washed,” the servant replied. “My Lady, if i may…” 

I nodded for her to go on. “We’ve never seen such clothes like yours before. They remind us of what the men wear however, yours are a bit more.. different.” 

“Oh, that. They’re just something that I made.” I lied. Thinking back to last night, I’m confused I didn’t get as many weird looks as I should have wearing my jeans and shirt. It's not really the typical Westerosi fashion for this time. 

“The bath is ready.” Another girl says. 

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, following them to another room adjacent to this one. The room was a massive bathroom that could function as a bathhouse. 

There was a massive tub nestled into the floor. The windows were also huge but a little higher up, letting in some natural light. I could tell the water was hot just by how much it was steaming. 

Carefully, the servants began to undress me. They led me into the water and began adding what I can only assume are oils and salts. Truthfully, it felt like I was at some fancy spa with how they washed my body and hair. 

Once that was done, they helped me into a beautiful white dress with a dark teal and gold design. I felt like a model wearing such a beautiful dress. I let my hair down, not wanting it in any style (or knowing any styles of this period). 

A servant walked me to the dining room where Daenerys was waiting for me. She wore a light blue dress with her hair braided and her three headed dragon pin.  

“Good Morning,” she greeted. 

“Morning uh, Your grace.”  I replied. “Sorry, I’ve never called anyone “your grace” before.” 

She brushed it off, motioning for me to take a seat next to her at the table where the food was already prepared. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, beginning to eat. 

“Fine, surprisingly.” I reached down to grab a fork for my food. “How about you?” 

Was I really making small talk with Daenerys Targaryen? 

“Mine as well,” she smiled. “I was hoping we could talk a little before I had to go meet my small council.” 

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” I wanted to smack myself. Every time I spoke it was full of nerves and anxiety. 

“Let’s start with you. Your name and where you’re from.” Daenerys says confidently. “Judging by your looks, you’re of Valyrian descent.” She says, eyeing my silver hair. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “My family moved from Volantis to the Eyrie. My family is known to be of the Old Blood in Volantis.” 

“The Old Blood?” Daenerys says, surprised. 

The Old Blood are a group of people in Volantis that have proven to be the last remaining families of Valyria. They live in a perched area of the city that only they can walk. All the families in that area still continue their Valyrian traditions and practices, just minus the dragons. 

I nodded, “My father is the youngest of four sons, so he thought ‘why not move to westeros and start something there?’ knowing that he wouldn’t have to really carry on the family name.” 

“And your family name is Vellarys?” She recalled from last night. 

“Yes. We’re known for our jewelry making in Volantis. That’s why my father moved to Westeros, to open a shop there without having to take over the business and stress like his older brother.

“As for myself, I have two older brothers. One is working to be a doctor,” Daenerys frowned at that, confused, “uh, it’s like a Maester. The other is helping my father run the shop.” 

“And what about yourself?” 

“I’m in school. I go to the University of Kings Landing.” 

“The.. University of… Kings Landing?” 

“Well, after the monarchy was sorta let go, they turned certain parts of the Red Keep and other castles into Universites -places to go for higher studies, like the.. Citadel for example.” 

Daenerys nods, understanding some of it. 

“I study the era of The Game of Thrones as well as Targaryen History.” 

“The Game of Thrones?” She repeats. “What is that?” 

“It’s, uh, what we call this time period. It ranged from the death of King Robert to,” the death of Daenerys Targaryen, “to now, and a little later. We look into how the events after Robert’s death played out and how people fought for the Iron Throne.” 

“Like a game.” She says. 

I nodded. “Yes, like a game. There’s this quote that Cersie Lannister said to Ned Stark that summed it up, “When you play the game of thrones, You win or you die,”.”

“I see,” Daenerys looks down at her plate in thought. “And what about me?” 

Oh fuck. 

“What about you?” I say, acting innocent. 

“What happened to me?” 

I purse my lips together. Should I say it? I mean, it’s a good segway to what I want to really say… if this part goes well. 

“You…” I nervously swallowed. “You die… before you could even claim the throne.” 

The fork in her hand hits the ceramic plate with a loud clunk. 

“What?” 

Nervously, I looked into her. “You were killed… after you burned Kings Landing to ashes.” 

She frowned. “You're lying. I would never do such a thing. Me? Burning down Kings Landing? 

And the Red Keep, but I’ll keep that to myself. 

“I’m not lying, Daenerys. After you died, Drogon picked you up and flew you away. We still haven’t found your or his body.” 

Daenerys' hands started to shake at the information I had just thrown at her. Carefully, I placed mine over hers. 

“Daenerys,” I said softly. “Breath. You’re fine, nothing has happened so far.” 

Slowly, I could feel her hands stop shaking and her breathing seemed to steady. 

“What do you mean so far?” 

I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze although, I can’t tell if it was for me or her. 

“Meaning, I can help you.” 

She looks at me, puzzled. 

“Daenerys, I can help you take the Iron Throne.” 

okayyyy so it's finally here after many rewrites. let me know if you guys liked the first person POV. its my first time writing it like this, typically i do second POV. more to come in later chapters. also, i will be changing a few things, nothing major. one personal head cannon that i have is that jon isn't really named aegon, but jaehaerys. makes a lil more sense in my brain. also, i'll maybe be using some info from the books. and if you guys have any suggestions with y/n's character and other stuff please feel free to let me know. don't worry there will be more story and character development in the coming chapters.

[boolger]

Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before 🌻 ch.2

Female reader x Nikolai x Price <-last chapter✨ AO3 link ✨ next chapter -> wc: 6.8k - call of duty - explicit, MDNI. Read the tags. Dead dove don’t eat.

Tags: non-consensual elements/rape, bikers AU, biker gang 141, omegaverse, dub-con, non-con touching, harassment, stalking, reader has a vagina, M/M/F threesome, threats, reader has a nickname, loss of parent, original characters, pack dynamics, alpha!John Price, Alpha!Nikolai, omega!reader, forced bonding, loss of virginity, breeding kink, piss kink, scent marking, daddy kink, stun guns, smut, rough sex, knotting, (maybe pregnancy), voyeurism, punishments, noncon spanking, p in v sex, anal sex, overstimulation, claiming barks, uh short appearance of a chopped off body part (action not described but the part will appear shortly)

AN: once again i must thank @venuskaltrip for helping and dealing with me and all my ideas.<33

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

You had two days off work after that evening. What followed was two days of hiding inside of your big childhood home, trying to distract yourself from what had turned the town - and your own life - upside down in such a short time.

So you went through your house, doing chores you had ignored, fixing things you had pushed away for too long. Throwing out a plant that was long past death, putting up two pictures that had been standing against the wall for almost a year. You mopped your floors, cleaned your bathroom, got rid of every empty perfume bottle with fake scents and pheromones. Ripping off the labels, throwing the glass bottles out.

Graves wouldn’t bother you anymore - it was almost as if you attempted to throw the fear of it out together with your trash.

For the first time in a while, you went into the garage, turning on the light that flickered for a moment before it lit up the big room. You ignored  dusty surfaces, the different unfinished tasks and open boxes that you had never packed away. After a couple of seconds, you finally caved in and opened one of the garage doors, to get some light in.

Pulling off the plastic and then blankets of your dad’s most precious possession, you took in the old car. For a moment the grey Aston Martin DB4 felt too intimidating to look at, knowing it still wasn’t fixed, that you still weren’t able to drive it like you had promised. The light from the sun was muted by the thin grey clouds covering it, the light from the lamps an unnatural white color. You weren’t even sure why you were forcing yourself to look at the car - if it was a desperate attempt to ignore the world. 

By feeling the cool metal surface of the car beneath your fingers, you were transported back to a time, many years ago, when there was still life in the garage; when there was an atmosphere of love for the cars, with the workers and the noises. With music playing from an old radio, laughter and the sound of engines and tools. 

Back then, you would sometimes sit in the Aston Martin, in the front seat, behind the wheel, pretending you were driving it. Wearing sunglasses and a scarf, making engine sounds with your mouth, legs too short to reach the petals, unable to see above the steering wheel.

With a soft sound, surprised by the childhood memory, you pulled your hand back. Then, despite not really having done anything to it, not even attempting to look at the engine or sit behind the wheel, you covered it once more, leaving it like you had found it. Closing the garage door, turning on the light and leaving the dusty memories for when you felt the urge to return to them once more.

For those two days you did everything you could to not think about the world outside the blue house. You wore headphones almost every hour, attempting to block out the noises from the engines that had returned to Millhaven… as if they had never even been gone. They hadn’t, not really, it had been a question of hours before they had returned - same sounds, different vehicles. It had hardly been enough time to get used to the quietness, yet you pretended you had.

The last evening you had spent time googling this 141 group; finding as many articles, Reddit posts, YouTube videos, vague mentions -  anything you could dig up. Hell you even downloaded TikTok again, merely to scroll through different tags, attempting to find anything. A lot of things were referenced, a lot of articles had disappeared it seemed. There were traces of them, links that didn’t work anymore, articles that referenced videos you couldn’t find.

As much as you hated it, the music of the engines lulled you to sleep that night.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

“They seem very nice,” Mary casually said when you returned to work early the next morning, helping get the cafe ready to open, “- Quite polite too.”

The window that had been shattered, had new glass in it again; the logo and name of the little cafe painted on it - Jenny was quite talented in writing nice letters on glass as well, so Mary had paid the handyman’s apprentice a little extra to do so. 

The Gentle Cuppa. 

It was a ridiculous name, but really, who were you to say anything about it? It wasn’t your shop after all. You had just worked here since you were fourteen - almost eight years. It was too late to change it anyways, the cafe would always be The Gentle Cuppa in Millhaven. The logo a white teacup with a flower on it, the steam from it forming a little heart.

It was as if it had never been broken in the first place. That there hadn’t been glass shards scattered around.

”They apologised for breaking the window - paid the bill for me, even for Jenny’s art,” your sweet boss continued, her scent smelling kinda pleased, “Proper gentleman, compared to those American fellas.”

The ugly flower picture was still hiding the bullet hole in the wall. Like a small plaster on top of an open wound, pretending everything was fine. Mary seemed impressed with the group. You supposed it was easy to be that when the standards had been quite low before. You bit your lip momentarily, before you were unable to help yourself.

”They’re still a biker gang, Mary,” you reminded her softly, cleaning the coffee machine with practised movements, looking over your shoulder at her as she filled a bowl with sugar cubes, “Don’t you still have to pay them each month?”

The beta huffed at your comment. You weren’t here to make her upset before work, didn’t want her to lose her optimism, but you didn’t want her to become blind to their plans and intentions already.

“I do,” she confirmed, “you worry so much despite being an alpha, Sunny. But yes, I do — it’s in percentages this time though.”

You blinked, forgetting everything about the coffee machine you were cleaning. She said it so casually, so different from how she would usually talk about the Shadows and their payments.

”What?”

Graves used to take 1500 quids each month, no matter how the shop had been going that month or if anything had happened, like a snowstorm or broken equipment. It wasn’t like this was the centre of the town. It had been hard sometimes - there were other bills to pay. Sometimes you had refused half your pay, telling her to instead use it to pay the idiot that was Graves. You suspected the elderly woman had taken from her savings now and again, in order to keep the cafe open.

“Mister Price was here,”— Mary explained before giving you a box with tea bags in, making you fully abandon the coffee machine, in order to put the box away as Mary continued to explain — “together with some of his men. Big lads, Sunny, they seemed even larger here than in the pub. But they will be taking ten percent of what the cafe earns each month.”

A part of you wondered why on earth somebody would even bother trying to take money from Mary but alas. Trying to make sense of a biker gang was no use, you supposed. It hadn’t made sense when Graves and the shadows were here and you doubted it would make sense with this Price fella and his group.

”One-four-one,” you muttered instead, not wanting to acknowledge that the deal would probably be better, in particular during the bad months, “stupid name, innit?”

“Better than the Shadows,” Mary said, patting your shoulder before moving towards the door to turn the little sign and put out your sign for the sidewalk, “sounded like cartoon villains. But at least you’re free from Graves so far.”

Maybe you should tell her about the articles. About the Reddit posts you had found, the disappearing articles that were references everywhere, the rumors of their ways. You stood silently behind the counter, not feeling like a strong alpha without worries that society stereotypically expected you to be, as you watched her. A part of you knew she was right. You were finally free of Graves, but it felt weird to celebrate before you were sure. 

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

What seemed to annoy you the most, was how the 141 seemed to give a good impression to the people in Millhaven - yet you felt unable to shake the feeling of worry off, even when told of the many good things they had done. Like a bad taste that you were unable to wash away. 

They had gotten rid of all evidence and traces of the Shadows. Picked up the bikes that had been abandoned, fixed holes in the road, even helped the couple who had gotten their hedge ruined. Paid for any damages around town. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise you if they would help an elderly lady cross the road, to make sure people would like them. 

It frustrated you how easily everyone seemed to go with the flow. Yes, they were clearly much different from the Shadows, but still. These men most likely didn’t become a biker gang, whose enemies “disappeared”, just to turn into a big group of softies afterwards.

Ruthless. Dangerous. Manipulative. The internet was filled with warnings, even if they sometimes tried to hide it.

They weren’t exactly best friend material.

So, you kept a low profile. You didn’t initiate any kind of interaction or conversation with them, hurrying past any of them coming near you, keeping your head high but not looking them in the eye. Hiding your fear the best you could, pretending to be an young alpha that didn’t care, that didn’t worry - no, that wasn’t even bothered by their presence. 

For two weeks, it seemed to work; you didn’t go to the pub a lot, but you still accompanied Mary now and again, also to talk to your friends at your own age. Otherwise you just worked, brought groceries, went home and stayed home - only leaving town once by bus, to pick up stronger scent blockers and patches, as well as some of the more controversial alpha pheromone scents. Stronger, bordering on the line of being illegal. It wouldn’t be the first time you had bought something like that, even illegal ones, in order to hide your actual secondary gender.

Your friends — because you did indeed have other friends besides Mary— seemed to have split opinions on the group, but it did make you feel a little less paranoid, knowing you weren’t the only one sceptical.

Kind Beatrice, an alpha who has been one of your closest friends ever since childhood, seemed just as suspicious as yourself, and hadn’t she been a married woman with a pack, you might have kissed her for seemingly being yet another sane person in Millhaven.

Enid, an omega, and her two pack mates, Finn, a beta, and Alma, an alpha, were considering staying, maybe even getting pups - but Carlos and Dennis, a beta couple, were going to move away as soon as possible.

Almost all of you had grown up together, some of them had joined later on, Alma had met Enid in a bigger town and Beatrice had met her pack online. Bea had often encouraged you to look online for love and despite her attempts at creating you a tinder profile, you had always refused.

”They seem nice,” Alma pointed out while you all sat in the back corner of the pub and you took a sip of your pint, saying nothing, as she continued, “Much better than the Shadows - you gotta admit that.”

“They’ve helped clean up,” Finn added, smiling softly at their two mates, clearly feeling much more safe with 141 than the shadows as well, “the others would never do that. Never pay for it either.”

It wasn’t as if it was hard to be better than the Shadows - but you didn’t say that. Carlos shrugged, clearly not too fond of the group either and not attempting to hide it.

”I just think it seems like a good moment for us to move away,” Dennis pointed out, “I feel safer leaving my mom now.”

Carlos looked over his shoulder, making sure none of the 141 were close, before adding, “I think it’s the best moment any of us will ever get. I’m still worried.” 

Dennis patted Carlos’ thigh, leaning a little closer to his mate in comfort.

”Didn’t you get a job offer in London?” You asked Carlos and the man nodded, a smile appeared on his face, a shy, almost proud one.

“Yeah - we could save up a lot of money with it,” He whispered, almost dreamily, “We might get a house - or be able to adopt a kid or two…”

Dennis let out a dreamy sigh, leaning against his mate, whispering something into his ear that made the other purr softly.

Beatrice emptied the last of her drink in one go, before letting out a sigh, leaning back with an almost despairing expression.

”Does it even all matter if it’s one or the other group?” She asked, looking rather tired for a moment, “Isn’t one just as shit as the other? Even if they attempt to hide it.”

You hushed her, kicking her beneath the table, your eyes flickering towards one of the bikers who looked over at your table from the bar.

”I’m just saying.” Beatrice muttered, touching the rim of her glass for a moment, trying to sink down a little in on the bench, almost as if to hide from the world.

”I don’t like them either,” you whispered, “there are articles about them.”

”Not good ones, I assume?” Enid asked and you shook your head. 

“Still. My mom isn’t involved in anything,” Dennis added, “I feel better about this.”

A part of you wondered if he was right. If this was truly the best opportunity to leave and feel safe doing so. But leaving everything behind was a scary thought. Especially leaving Mary behind... then again, in so many ways, things should get a little better for you now with Graves being gone.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

The following Monday, the first day of week three with the 141 in Millhaven, your routine had an unexpected change in the afternoon. 

You stopped at the beginning of the side road to your house, watching your blue house at the end of it. 

The memory of Graves less than a month ago, hit you like a train. You had a small paper bag with two leftover scones in one hand, just like you had then. You slid your free hand into your pocket, holding onto your stun gun, making sure you had a good grip.

It wasn’t an identical situation to last time, there was not one bike in front of your house, but three. In a way it was similar yet it was still quite different, because you didn’t know these people; they hadn’t been obsessed with you for the last two years of your life.For all you knew, they could be taking a rest there by coincidence, since you had a big, broad driveway due to the garage.

A naïve thought perhaps.

For a good minute you weren't sure of what to do; running away wasn’t really an option, as it would only make them notice you even more, gain their attention even more. 

You could walk behind the house, through the fields and jump your fence, go in through the back. But wouldn’t that be even more suspicious? No, any kind of running away was not an option; after a brief moment, you moved again, walking towards your house. Keeping your stance relaxed or at least attempting to, with your head high and an overwhelming relief that the scent blockers and patches would hide your scent of worry and fear. That it would only be the scent of a strong alpha coming from you.

One of the men was resting against one of the garage doors; he was black, rather handsome, slender compared to the two other bikers with him, but looked far from weak. He looked like somebody others might underestimate, not worry about - so that he could strike, more lethal than anyone would expect. Yet he also looked like he could charm everyone he met, as a grin appeared on his face, clearly model material. Had he not been standing there, dressed like the other two bikers, you probably wouldn’t have feared him. 

Then there was another man, leaning against his bike, grinning directly at you, not even trying to be subtle as his eyes roamed over you. He was taller than you, but broad. Long hair slicked back, a gold chain that glinted in the light from the street lamp that wasn’t really needed yet. Sharp nose, slight stubble, intense eyes, tattoos curling along his neck just like all the members seemed to be covered in. Big hands, covered in leather gloves that took a deep breath of a cigarette before throwing it to the ground, his big leather boots stomping on it. Leaving it in your driveway.

You were much closer now, able to see the last one sitting on the steps to your house. He was slightly hidden in the shadows, but with the cigar that occasionally lit up, you had a good guess of who it was.

But you had no fucking idea why John Price and two of his minions were in front of your house.

You stopped a couple of steps from the long haired guy by his bike who was nearest. Taking a glance at the other two before finally speaking.

”How come you’re sitting in my driveway?” You asked, trying your best to seem slightly bothered but not fearful, before leaning a little to the side, raising an eyebrow at Price, ignoring the man right in front of you.

”Apologies, luv,” John Price answered smoothly, rising from the stairs, a confident, almost amused smile on his face, “I’m John Price - but I’m sure you know that.”

You didn’t react, merely stared at him with your best bored expression. The alpha man didn’t seem bothered though, continuing without much of a pause.

”This here is my mate Nikolai” — the man closest to you grinned like a shark, a deep rumble as he nodded at you — “And my other friend here is Gaz.”

You looked at them both respectively but didn’t say anything, instead looking back at Price. He watched you closely for a moment before letting out a pleased hum, taking a couple of steps closer to you, stopping to take another drag of his cigar. You did everything in your power to not seem intimidated by the bigger men, tightening your grip on the stun gun, not taking your eyes off the leader. It stunk of strong alpha pheromones in your driveway, so heavy that you were almost able to taste it.

”We were wondering if the garage is still running,” Price then continued, nodding up towards the sign above your garage building; the sign that was only halfway taken down, partially covered by a green tarp.

A part of you wanted to ask him if he was stupid or unable to figure out that it clearly wasn’t. The three pairs of eyes watching you made you uncomfortable. Your grip tightened on the little bag of scones, paper crinkling slightly beneath your fingers.

“No,” you answered, keeping your explanation simple, “My dad died.”

”Ah, I’m sorry to hear that pet.”

You doubted the sympathy in his voice was real so you didn’t reply. You didn’t need their sympathy anyways. Hadn’t they been who they were, you would probably have pushed past them by now and told them to fuck off. Tell them to go find somebody else to bother. 

“It is nice looking house,” the man, Nikolai or something, commented with a thick Russian accent, tipping his head to the side, “very large.”

Well spotted, you thought dryly. It was indeed one of the bigger houses of Millhaven. 

“Our pack could use some space,” The handsome one — Gaz, Maz or whatever he had been introduced as — commented, his tongue playing with the snakebite piercings before he continued, “We’re a lot of people. Also for our bikes - it would be nice to have somewhere to fix them up, ya’ know, bird?”

You clenched your jaw, your omegan teeth threatening to push through your gums for a moment, to show your dislike towards the idea; you had filed your teeth down a bit so they wouldn't really be visible behind your normal teeth - a fact you regretted right now, because the idea of them taking over your safe place, your territory, your nest, made your inner omega quite upset. Though, you didn’t want to come off weak, didn’t want to come off intimidated by his words - you wanted to seem unbothered by their implicit “offer”.

Alphas were territorial as well, just in a different way, so no, you didn’t even want to seem like their attempt at questioning your territory frightened you. Even if the handsome man smelled of omega, you couldn’t expose your own secondary gender.

”Shame,” you replied dryly, unable to help yourself, puffing your chest up a little, “The garage won’t open for a good while - and I’m not interested in renting out. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to go inside.”

You didn’t look at any of them as you walked in between the bikes and Price, towards your front door, knowing full well that you were being watched by them. Just as you pulled out your keys, Gaz spoke once more.

”Aren’t you the lass that Graves was interested in?”

His question made you stop, your body briefly feeling numb and you feared dropping your keys - especially as their leader spoke again.

”Sunflower, innit?” John Price added to the question. It made a shiver of fear run along your spine, made your knees feel weak. They would figure out your name sooner or later, but it felt wrong for them to know, just like you had hated the Shadows knowing. These men hadn’t even been here for long. 

It took a short moment before the anxiety let go of you, enough for you to get yourself under control, to breathe and move again.

Then you huffed out loud, pretending to be unbothered once more.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You didn’t stay outside for them to ask further questions, not sparing them another look as you let yourself in and closed the door after you, locking it.

For a good minute you merely stood there, hidden behind the wooden door, listening as you attempted to catch your breath. When they finally drove off not too long after, you finally felt like you could breathe properly again.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

It felt ridiculous to look through the window, paranoid even, to make sure that nobody was outside your front door the next morning. Your mind screaming at you, the idea of behaving like a worried omega made you feel embarrassed. Yet, despite attempting to shun the panic away, you feared that the pack would attempt to take over your territory… your home. Your nest, even if you barely had one. No, no, you could leave your house whenever you wanted to, without being afraid of that. Or so you tried to convince yourself at least.

It was probably due to being bothered by Graves for two years. You were sure that being, what you would argue for being stalking, from when you were 20 to 22, probably wasn’t the most mentally healthy thing. It sure hadn’t done wonders for your anxiety at any point, your mind taunted, messed you up a little more, hadn’t it?

As you walked to the cafe, you wondered if you should buy yourself another lock. Maybe two. One of those with a chain. A door bolt or perhaps one of those with a fancy chip? One for the back door, one for the front.

Would it even make you feel more safe? It wasn’t even guaranteed that they would come back since you already told them no. If they truly were these “gentlemen” like Mary had said, they would probably respect a no.

At least you hoped so.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

There seemed to come and go a sudden amount of bikers inside the cafe. It wasn’t as if they weren’t allowed to be there, they weren’t making any trouble. They paid for their drinks, were quiet if they stayed - most of them left again. One of them even held the doors open for the two 9 AM ladies, making them coo about how polite the biker was afterwards.

It was absurd.

Mary didn’t seem to mind - you couldn’t blame her, customers were customers, whether they wore a logo with a knife and a skull on their clothes or not. They paid and barely said anything, one just sitting in the corner with a book, drinking tea for an hour.

But you felt watched. As if you felt the familiar paranoia greet your organs, ready to once again intertwine with them like an old friend. Every time one of the leather clad, tattooed and piercing-covered people spared you a look, you instinctively wanted to hide. You didn’t, not wanting to show weakness, but still. 

You ordered a door bolt and a lock with a chain online during your lunch break. 

Though you probably should, you couldn’t make yourself tell Mary about the incident with the three bikers in front of your house. You weren’t quite sure why you didn’t tell her, but then again, what was the older woman supposed to do about it?

Perhaps it was because you didn’t want to worry her, perhaps it was because you didn’t want her to be upset with the group, now that she seemed much calmer.

Or maybe it was embarrassment, though you weren’t sure over what exactly. You hadn’t done anything wrong. A part of you was sure it was from shame of being scared - a big, strong alpha woman wasn’t scared like this. You were a strong independent woman and society had decided because of your “secondary gender”, that you were stronger than beta or omega women.

Strong alpha women weren’t afraid of men outside their house.

So when your sweet boss asked if you wanted to go to the pub at the end of the shift, you couldn’t make yourself decline, even if you wanted to do nothing more than go home and hide beneath your blankets, make a little safety nest to hide in. Perhaps grab some of your parents’ old clothes that might still have a little scent to them, and use them in your nest.

God. You hadn’t properly nested for a good while.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

The pub wasn’t exactly filled to the brim - it was  Tuesday after all. Most packs stayed at home, relaxing after the second workday of the week. The clouds curled into each other like shadowy monsters, darkening the town a little earlier than usual.

Despite the presence of several 141 members, males and females alike — they seemed progressive in that aspect at the very least — you sat a good bit away from them, with Mary and some of her friends. Beatrice next to you, muttering about how she was tired of school children finding it funny to call her all sorts of internet slang that she didn’t find funny.

It wasn’t until you went up to collect another round for Mary and some of the others, that you became uncomfortable with the 141’s presence again. Or rather, the presence of one of the members. Nikolai appeared next to you, right after telling the owner your order, way too close for your comfort, the bigger alpha looking down at you with a charming smile. The many piercings in his ears shining in the light.

”Put it on my tab, Lewis,” the older alpha crooned while you frowned up at him, not even trying to seem thankful for it.

”I don’t want yo—“

”It is gift, little flower.”

”Don’t call me that,” you almost hissed, making the larger man laugh, clearly entertained by your anger.

The moment Lewis put down the four pints on a little dish, Nikolai snatched three of them with his large tattooed hands and you couldn’t help yourself, letting out a low growl at him, barely audible over the chattering in the pub.

”Let me help you carry them, solnyshko,” he offered and you wanted to point out that he hadn’t really given you a choice, so you merely picked up the last one, turning around on your heel, not even attempting to be polite to him. Nor asking what the fuck he was calling you.

You knew he was following you closely, could smell his strong alpha scent as if he was rubbing against you; he stunk of leather and gasoline, like all of them did - but also cigar and cigarette smoke, with an underlying earthy scent beneath that you couldn’t really place.

All of the others at the table — except Beatrice — cooed at him for helping you, all instantly falling for that charm of his. While they thanked him, you didn’t. You also ignored his wink at you, watching him disappear back to some of the others. You mostly felt thankful that he didn’t stay around.

You took a big gulp of the beer, the urge to drown yourself in alcohol violently strong for a moment. Beatrice gave you a careful pat on the shoulder.

“You know Arthur?” Beatrice asked a little while later, voice a little slurred, whispering just loud enough so that you could hear it, “Arthur Hall and his lil’ pack?”

”Your neighbours?”

”Yeah.” Beatrice seemed to hesitate for a moment and you took another sip of your beer.

“They have a shadow in their pack, don’t they?” You asked, not taking your eyes of the closest biker, making sure they weren’t listening. 

“Yeah - I” — Beatrice took another sip of her beer, before continuing, her whisper almost so faint you couldn’t hear her — “he wouldn’t say anything about the shadow member and the entire pack left during last night.”

For a few moments, none of you said anything. So many thoughts rushed though your mind at once, almost making you nauseous for a moment. Was their pack member alive - or did the 141 kill him too? Didn’t they have pups? - did they actually leave or…

Beatrice lifted her handbag up from the floor, rummaging through it for a second; The scent of her pack mates emerged from it, your jealousy over having a pack short, before she pulled a small letter from it.

She discreetly handed it to you and Beatrice leaned closer to continue.

”I got this - I - it was in my mailbox, together with the spare keys they had to use when they came over to water our plants if me and the others were away,” she softly explained while you read the letter, taking in the written words quietly, “It’s Arthur’s handwriting. It doesn’t seem more messy or anything than usual, so I think he actually wrote it. Smells of him too…”

There weren’t really many details on the paper; Arthur thanked Bea and her pack for many great years as neighbours. He had gone to school together with you and Beatrice, like so many others your age in the area. The letter explained in short and vague terms that he and the pack were safe, not to worry. They were going to a bigger city, starting anew without Eric — the shadow member — and for Beatrice and her pack to not attempt to find or contact them.

It was odd to sit with the last letter you would probably have from Arthur for a good while. If not forever. You hoped he would find peace with the pups, wherever they went. You returned the letter to your friend and the red haired alpha put it in the handbag again. 

The two of you sat silently for a few moments. Drank some more of your beers, listened to the soundtrack of the pub. You weren’t really sure what to say - it was a dilemma that you couldn’t really express your opinions about, not easily at least. It wasn’t as black and white as you wanted it to be; Eric had been good for Arthur, as far as you knew - even though he had been a part of the Shadows. He had been a person  you didn’t like, but couldn’t quite hate at the same time. You had seen how he cared for Arthur’s pups, that wasn’t even his biological kids. After Arthur’s first mate’s death, you knew it hadn’t been easy. So for it to happen again?… Like this?

You couldn’t blame Arthur for leaving. To get the kids out of this. Starting anew. 

”I like to think it’s true that he actually wrote this,” Beatrice said, looking at nothing in particular, voice slightly slurred as she continued, “I think I need it to be true.”

”It is, then,” you answered, giving her arm a little squeeze, watching her for a moment, how she looked on the edge of crying “Why don’t you call one of your ladies? Make them come pick you up?”

Her pack weren’t much for going to the pub, hadn’t grown up with it in the same way that you and Bea had - so they more often than not, stayed home. 

Beatrice looked over at you, her green eyes a little wet. Then she nodded, a sad smile appearing on her lips.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

When you had made sure that Beatrice had been picked up by one of her pack mates, you and Mary walked home together, softly slinging from side to side next to each other - you made sure she came home safely and up the stairs to her apartment on top of the cafe, since she had gotten a little more to drink than usual.

”Text me when you get home, you knot head!” she yelled after you when you got down the stairs, making you roll your eyes, “or I’ll fire you!”

”Go to bed, Mary!”

The air was cold as you walked home, but you didn’t mind it; it was refreshing in a way and you walked along the pavement while a car or a motorbike occasionally passed you, lighting you up, before disappearing down the road. The street lamps illuminated your route home, keeping you from walking in the dark.

Mrs. Henley’s dog was asleep, not barking as you passed - the teenager was back in the window, but there was another teenager with him this time. They were pressed against each other, lights from behind them making their silhouettes blend together, whispering while taking drags of their cheap cigarettes and the sight made you smile.

The alcohol in your veins didn’t make you feel drunk, merely tipsy. Or so you told yourself. Calm, in a way. Pleased to know that both Bea and Mary were home safe, that you had a day off tomorrow, that you had a fancy bath bomb at home, that you had an excuse for lying in your tub for way too long. That you could peel off the scent patches that seemed to itch a little now and then - and for once, just be yourself for a day.

You wanted to blame the alcohol for not realising until half way down the road that there were people in your driveway. Again. Three bikes stood parked, three people standing there. Or well, one of them was sitting. Just like last time.

You didn’t stop this time, but you did let out an annoyed groan at the sight. You didn’t really want to deal with them once more - couldn’t they remember you told them it was not available for renting yesterday?

Perhaps it was the alcohol that made you braver when you stopped at the driveway, looking at the three of them, speaking with an annoyed tone.

”Why the fuck are you hanging out here again?” You asked, indiscreetly pulling out your little stun gun, as if to warn them that you had it.

John Price laughed at you, the sound taunting you, either at your words or the stun gun, leather creaking a little as he rose from the stairs, taking a drag of one of those stupid cigars he seemed to smoke all the time. One could only wish he got lung problems soon.

It was the first time you noticed his silver eyebrow piercing, right next to a small tattoo on his temple that looked like antlers. You couldn’t really see what it was but then again, you shouldn’t really care.

“That’s illegal, innit?” One of the men asked mockingly, making you look over at him; it was the grim reaper looking guy who had stepped into the pub at first, still wearing his skull balaclava.

”As if you care about that,” you almost immediately shot back.

You didn’t know if the bastard smiled or not, but the guy with the Mohawk next to him sure did. All teeth glistening in the streetlight. He wasn’t as tall as the Grim reaper, but he was just as broad, a fresh bite mark almost bruising his skin.

”This is Gh—“

”I don't care,” you cut off their leader, who looked at you with a darkening stare as you did so, while you tipped your head up a little, not in the mood to be introduced to more members, “what are you doing here?”

The alcohol did really make you confident it seemed. Problem was, you still didn’t know these men. They were mostly blank slates to you, with boundaries you didn’t know, with signs you couldn’t quite read yet. You had known Graves, even if it had been against your will, known that he would back off if you were harsh enough. You had cut his cheek and survived, after all. You needed to watch yourself, but in all honesty, you just wanted to go inside to sleep.

”Wanted to make sure you got home safe, pet - especially since you don’t have a pack at home,” Price mused, smoke curling around him, the image of him as a dragon once more appearing in your mind, “right, lads?”

Both the men standing a little further away easily agreed with their pack alpha. You didn’t back away as Price walked closer to you, looking down at you. There was a darkness in his eyes you couldn’t describe, yet a curiosity on his face.

You stared back at him with the best resting bitch face that you could manage.

”Bonnie wee thing like ye should have omegas, betas and alphas fallin’ at yer feet,” the Mohawk guy cooed from the sideline, “ever considered gettin’ a pack, hen?”

For once you didn’t attempt to hide your deep growl, proving you didn’t like his comment or question, a small growl leaving you.

”No - besides, it’s none of your business. Now leave. You’re on private property,” you spit, though you didn’t look away from Price in front of you.

“Territorial too?,” Grim reaper laughed, “My my.”

You growled again.

The rumble coming from Price sounded pleased with your impoliteness, the sound disgusting you in a way you couldn’t describe. His chin resting against the top of his chest.

“Not changed your mind on rentin’ out your lil garage, luv?” Price asked once more and you rolled your eyes, before shaking your head.

“Nope,” you responded, before raising your stun gun a little, turning it on; just to hear the sound of the electricity snap violently for a second, even if you didn’t touch him — though you were drunk, you knew it probably wouldn’t do you much good right now — adding sharply, “And don’t call me that. Now, fuck off.”

With that you walked past Price, the alpha letting out another pleased rumble as you pushed the stun gun back into your pocket. There was a scent of lust in the air that you ignored, not even wanting to think that the leader of them was attracted to you.

You hardly managed to unlock the door before the alpha spoke again, making you stop in your tracks just like the night before.

”You know, Phillip was stupid in many ways. But he did have good taste in women,” his voice sounded pleased and you looked over your shoulder at him, “Sleep well, little Sunflower.”

You stared at him for a good five seconds, not even attempting to look pleased. Then you went inside and slammed the door. 

Creeps.

You definitely needed to order yet another lock. Maybe a stronger stun gun… and perhaps, you should cut down on the alcohol as well. Drink sparkling water or something.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Desire

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: It's clear to you that you're attracted to Qimir and, sure, he likes to touch you and be near you, but that doesn't necessarily mean he wants to be sexually intimate with you right?

Warning: smut but tried not to make it super not detailed since reader is gender neutral. but his dick def goes somewhere lmao

Qimir Masterlist

Qimir's hand runs up your hand your arm, a trail of goosebumps following it.

You're supposed to be meditating by the water, but Qimir is...distracting.

You feel him graze his lips over the nape of your neck and you let out a shaky sigh, "You're distracting me."

"That's the point," his voice is low and rasp in your ear, "There can be a lot of things going on at once, but you still need to be able to focus and become one with the Force."

He chuckles as your breath hitches when he presses a kiss on your shoulder, "Focus."

His hands slide up your thighs, his fingers messing with the band of your pants. Your heart quickens, your breath trying to steady but as his hand slips under, gliding along your skin.

Your entire body is buzzing and it's not because of the Force this time. This is different. You grow hot as Qimir continues to press kisses along your neck and shoulders.

His hand presses against you and you gasp. You don't stop him as moves his hand, bringing you to pleasure. You lean back against him, opening yourself more to him.

He nuzzles his face into your neck and he works you faster, the coil building up inside you more and more.

"Qimir," you moan his name.

He hums out in satisfaction, "Cum for me."

You're shaken awake before you can climax.

You look up in shock to see Qimir looking down at you with concern, "Are you okay? You were calling me in your sleep. You sounded...hurt."

Your cheeks grow warm as you abruptly sit up, "Yup. Yeah, just, uh, bad dream...again."

He leans back, looking at you with uncertainty, "Did you want to talk-"

"Nope. It's fine. Just...I think I'm going to swim to clear my head." You kick off your blanket and slip on your shoes, practically running out of the cave and away from Qimir.

_____________________

He could sense how uneasy you're feeling. You're tense, jumpy, cautious. He could feel those emotions rolling off you in waves. He just didn't know why.

He steps out of the cave, looking out to the water where you were wading in the water. He focuses on you, using the Force to get an idea of what's been bothering you.

He feels that coil in his stomach, something he's felt a few times throughout his life. A smirk reaches his face and he lets out a chuckle of disbelief.

You're aroused, not doubt because of him. He has been touching you a lot more, pressing himself closer to you. Albeit, it hasn't been due to sexual desire, but rather just an innate need to be close to you.

He supposes, however, that he can turn it up a notch, because who is he to deny you pleasurable release? Besides, it's not good for you to continue training while so...riled up.

He makes his way to the shore, swiftly and quietly. Your back is to him as you cup water in your hands, letting is fall onto your body.

He undresses and steps into the water.

"Mind if I join you?" you yelp in surprise, burying your nude body further into the water, "I-uh-no. It's fine," you respond.

"Taking a swim was a good idea. You've been on edge lately," he says as he slowly makes his way to you.

You gulp, trying to the keep the distance between you, "Yeah, um, those nightmares have been sticking with me a lot longer than I would like."

"You should let me help you."

"It's not your problem-"

"It is. If you're to be my equal, if I'm to train you, there can't be any distractions. I want to make sure that your mind and body are at ease. What's holding you back?"

You stay frozen in place as Qimir comes closer to you. You're not sure what to say. Do you tell him the truth? Do you lie? Surely, he knows you'd be lying, right? Maybe if you bend the truth a little it wouldn't really be a l-

You gasp when his hand cups your face, "It's because of me, isn't it?"

You want to deny it, but before a word comes out, he gives you a knowing smirk, "I know it's because of me." His hand trails down your neck, to your shoulder, "It's okay, you can let go," he whispers and that's all you hear before you're pressing your lips to his.

He grabs you by the hips, pulling you flush against him. You gasp when you feel his hardening member pressed against you.

He grinds into you and you can’t help but moan into the kiss. He pulls his lips away, only to press hot kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“Qimir,” you say his name breathlessly, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

He slowly backs you towards the rocks, pressing you against the hard surface as he kisses you again. He grinds against you more and your body fills with desire. You want him. You need him.

“Please,” you beg, “I want to let go.”

He pulls away just enough for him to ask, “Are you sure?”

You nod, “Yes,” you whisper.

His hand goes to your thigh and lifts it to hook around his waist. He rests his forehead against yours as he murmurs, “Tell me if it becomes too much.”

He slowly inserts himself in you and you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you up.

You moan as he slowly moves his hips against you. You run a hand up the back of Qimir’s neck and grip his hair as he hits you in a particular spot that makes you loudly moan.

His groans of pleasure mix with yours as he continues to thrust into you.

“You’re mine. I told you: we’re meant to be,” he murmurs into your skin.

You nod in agreement, “I’m yours.”

Hearing those two words spurs Qimir on even more. He quickens his pace. His hands gripping tightly onto your leg and hip.

One of your hands still remains in his hair while the other digs your nails into his shoulder. He stares deeply into your eyes with his dark brown ones.

“You are my equal. My one. We share a bond that cannot be broken. You will be at my side always,” he states in between panting breaths.

“Always,” you recite with a moan as your own pleasure builds up.

He buries his face into your neck as he thrusts harshly into you one…two…three times before his hips still and he’s spilling into you.

“Qi-“ you moan his name while your own wave of pleasure washes over you.

You let out a gasp and a long deep breath, falling limp against the rock he took you against.

He continues to hold you despite your weakened state.

His breaths are short, hot, and heavy against your wet skin.

He leans back and you look at him, swiping his damp locks out of his face.

He kisses your palm, “How do you feel now?”

You give him a light chuckle, “Free.”

[honeybeefae]

Potions (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Eris Week Day Two: Heir

Summary// A recent concoction has hit the fae market that is said to bring about your primal instincts to help fertility. When Eris first suggests it you laugh, thinking it is just another herb or supplement that will fail, until you both drink and realize just how primal it turns you.

(This is hot, filthy, dirty, just primal smut. I’m talking about knotting, A/B/O, breeding, fucking. If that’s not your vibe then you have been warned and if it is, well, we should definitely be friends. Enjoy!)

@erisweek2023

WARNINGS: SMUT, Knotting, Primal Play, Aphrodisiacs, Breeding, A/B/O Dynamics, Slight Cum Inflation?,  I don’t want to spoil anything else but it is dirty. 

With how hard fae pregnancies are to come by it is a wonder that something like this hadn’t been made sooner. Eris had had it delivered to him by one of his healers and advisors, their eyes sparkling at the idea of an heir being conceived with the special potion made by the healer himself. 

At first, Eris hadn’t even wanted to bring it to you, knowing how difficult it was for you month after month of not becoming pregnant, but as he saw you grow sadder each week he finally caved.

 This is how the two of you came to be sitting in the quiet of your secluded cabin, away from the court’s gossip and stares, with the heart-shaped bottle resting on the table between the two of you. 

“So what is this supposed to do exactly?” You ask quietly, gingerly picking it up and watching as the dark red liquid swirled from the movement of your shaky hands. “And how is this any different from the other herbs and medicines the healer has already been giving me?”

“It is said to call upon our basic, primal instincts to help with the conceiving part,” Eris explained again, blowing air out of his mouth. “I’m not sure exactly how it works or what it does but that is how it was explained to me.”

“And do you think it will work?”

“I think there is only one way to find out.”

You frown, contemplating, before twisting open the top and popping the cork. Eris stands and grabs two small glasses which you pour into. The smell is sickly sweet, almost like cherry medicine, and you try your best not to wince as you bring it up to your mouth. 

“Can we agree before we drink this that if it does not work…we just try not to worry about it? Conceiving, I mean.” Eris says softly, watching you with concern. “I know how much this has been bothering you and I do not want you to feel pressured or think that I am angry with you. These things take time and this drink, at most, is probably just going to be a fun night of sex for us. Nothing more.”

“I know I’ve been struggling I just,” You sigh, your eyes looking down. “I’m so ready to have a child and I know your advisors, the court, and even your mother have been pressing me for when I will finally have one. I just feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

He reaches out for you and grabs your free hand, squeezing it as he says, “You could never let anyone down, Y/N. I cannot say I know the pressures of being a woman in this circumstance but I can imagine them. Just please know that no matter what happens, whether it works or not, I love you and I do not care if I have to wait forever or even if it never happens. All I want is your happiness.”

You give him a sincere smile, tightening your fingers around his as you hold your glass out for him to clink. “Cheers then…to at least a long night of fucking each other.”

“Cheers, little fox.” Eris grins, giving you a flirty wink before downing the potion as you follow his lead. “It certainly tastes…interesting.”

“Nasty,” You blanch, your nose scrunching in disgust. “It tastes nasty.”

“Well the healer is probably more attuned at creating medicines than he is flavorful potions I would assume.” He shrugs, lounging back on the couch and patting his lap. “Why don’t you come over here and sit with me while we wait and see what this does?”

You don’t need to be asked twice as you shimmy over the table and crawl onto him, nuzzling your face into his neck as he kisses your temple and runs his fingers through your hair. It is sweet, domestic, and you savor it as you kiss his neck. 

“I do wonder what it means about becoming primal…” Eris muses. “Do you think it will make us mindless beasts? Just rutting into each other?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you raise your head to look at him, rolling your eyes as he smirks. “I think it will do the same as the other medicines have and slightly, slightly, raise our libido. Though I do not think we need help with that.”

He grins wolfishly and cups the back of your head, bringing your lips to his as he kisses you slowly. His lips never fail to take your breath away as they move against your own, molding perfectly together as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Pleasant tingles are going from your scalp to your toes as you swipe your tongue against his.

“Mmmm,” Eris growls, his hands grasping your hips while you teasingly grind down onto him. You were surprised at how wet you were already becoming, feeling the wet spot growing in your underwear. “It’s not nice to tease, little fox.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lord.” You smile against his mouth, your skin starting to feel clammy as you pull back for a moment. “Are you hot? Like sweaty?”

“I’m a little warm…” He trails off, looking down in surprise to see his white shirt almost completely soaked through. “What the hell?”

“Is it the potion? Is it like an allergic reaction?” You stand, touching the back of your neck which is slick with sweat. “Stars I’m the same way-what is that smell?”

You sniff at the air, trying to find the intoxicating smell that was starting to drive you insane. It was like you were one of his hounds are you bent down over Eris who was still looking down at his shirt, finding the source right at the pulse point of his neck. “Fuck Eris, you smell so good.”

Another warm gush of wetness coated your outer lips and thighs as you licked him from the hollow of his throat to the base of his ear, tasting the mix of pheromones and sweat while he abruptly pushed you off and stood. You felt like you were in a daze as you looked up at him, hurt and confused before you saw what had him freaking out. 

Eris’s hair was growing thicker, and coarser, while his body seemed to swell slightly in the muscles and planes of his chest. He raises his hands as you watch his nails become sharper and pointer, almost like claws, as he whispers, “I don’t know what’s happening to me…”

Your eyes trail up as he starts to lick his lips and his teeth, curling his top lip to show off his canines as they also become sharp. His amber eyes turn to gold as he stumbles back, tearing at his clothes until they were scraps on the floor, and unleashing the full change to your view. 

“Eris, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” Your tone is full of worry before your mouth drops open at the sight of his bare body, seeing the hair that has grown on his chest, forearms, and thighs, as your gaze finally falls to his cock.

It was already long and thick before but now, with whatever the medicine was doing, it had become even bigger. You could see the veins throbbing as he became hard under your eyes, the head an angry read as it hit just under his belly button. However, that isn’t the most concerning thing as you see a knot form just underneath his dick. 

A large, throbbing knot.

“Oh my gods.” You breathe, eyes wide, as you look back into his eyes. The man before you was no longer your Eris, no longer the High Lord of Autumn. No, this was a beast. A red, hungry beast who was watching you like a fox would its prey.

“I’ve never felt like this before…” He growls, even his voice an octave lower and gravelly while he licks his lips and stares at you. 

“Like what?” You question breathlessly.

“Like I want to fuck you until you’re overflowing with my cum, your womb stuffed as I drain every last drop into that pretty fucking cunt.”

Before you could fully react to it Eris had stomped over to you and ripped off your clothes, letting them fall to the floor it tatters as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked. You whined loudly, looking up at him as he fisted his cock and slapped it against your cheek roughly. “Suck it, pup. Take this hot, thick dick down your throat like a good girl.”

You opened for him without hesitation, gagging as he rutted into your face until the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat. Normally Eris would check in on you before being rough, making sure you were okay, but this wasn’t Eris. He had no qualms about your comfort as he threw his head back and groaned loudly.

And as you took it, as you slobbered all over him, you realized you liked it. 

The way he was treating you, the way he smelled, the knot, everything was driving you fucking wild. You were sure you were dripping onto the couch as he used your mouth for his pleasure. It was so hot and you could feel your mind going blank as you lost yourself in the experience.

“That’s it, that’s it, FUCK!” He roared as you played with his knot, moaning around him. “Swallow it so fucking deep, pet. Oh, fuck.”

He was throbbing inside your mouth as you ran your tongue over the veins and the underside of his dick, tasting the salty musk of him before he unexpectedly pulled himself out of your mouth. “Hands and knees, slut. Now.”

Eris stroked himself as you quickly clambered into position on the small couch, wiggling your ass in the air to entice him as he took position behind you. He landed a rough smack on your ass before he started thrusting swiftly, his cock desperately trying to find your hole as you shoved a hand down to try and guide him.

It only took a few seconds before he found his mark and you cried out in pain and pleasure as he speared you down on his member, fucking you like an animal. You tried your best to stay upright but Eris shoved a large hand between your shoulders, forcing your face into the pillows as he grabbed your hips and fucked.

“Such a good little breeding whore,” He praised, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass echoing across the cabin. “Such a perfect cock slut for me to use. That’s all you’re good for, right? All for me?”

“Fuck yeah-” You choke out, turning to look back at him which only spurred him on further. “Just for you, Eris. Only you.”

His claws dug into your skin and you swore you could feel him piercing your skin but you couldn’t care, didn’t care, as he fucked you dumb. Both of your juices were making the wettest, sloppiest noise as it dripped out of you and onto the couch. 

You started to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the shockwaves of pleasure overtaking your body as Eris found that spot deep inside of you that had your vision filling with white spots. Moan after moan spilled from your mouth as he chased his release, growling at the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly.

“Cum. Cum for me.” He ordered roughly, dominantly. “Fucking cum all over my cock.”

His words unlocked the gates as you whimpered and cried out his name, your entire body shaking while you hit the best orgasm of your life. You could feel your cum creaming out of you as you buried your face into the pillow, biting down, while he smacked your ass once, twice, and then a third before he stilled inside of you.

The knot was trying to bury itself in your cunt but you were too tight for it to fit which caused massive frustration for Eris as his cum started leaking out of your hole. You winced when he pulled out, yelping when he turned you over to your back and loomed above you.

“You’re wasting it pet,” He tsked, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he came face-to-face with your still-sensitive mound. “Let me fix that for you.”

Your back arched as he took his tongue and started tongue-fucking your abused hole, groaning at the taste of both of your cums mixed together as he desperately tried to fuck it back into you. Both of your hands flew to his head, gripping on for dear life as he moved up to your clit.

He flicked it back and forth with the tip of his tongue, his nails digging into your thighs as you tried to squirm away. “Nuh uh, little fox. You’re staying here until I’m fucking finished breeding you.” Eris growled, pushing two of his fingers into your needy pussy as he started to stretch you out. “I’m going to make sure you’re nice and stretched out for me, ready to take this knot like a good fucking slut.”

“Eris, please,” You whine, your hips rutting up as your sensitivity turns to pleasure again. “Please, I need more.”

“You need more, pet? Need more of this cock?” Eris taunted, pulling away after slurping more of your juices up. “Open your mouth for me.”

You did so quickly, sticking your tongue out as he appeared above your head and spat into your mouth. It was dirty and disgusting but it made you tighten around his fingers, the vulgarity of it only turning you on even more as he smirked. His fangs poked out from his lips as he said, “Dirty whore, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Enjoying being treated like a breeding bitch?”

Your head bobs up and down but it isn’t enough for him as he thrusts deeper, harder, and grabs your face painfully. He squeezes, pushing your lips together as his upper lip curls back in a snarl. “Fucking say it.”

“Y-yes I enjoy it!” You admit in a high-pitched voice, groaning when he added a third and fourth finger. “I enjoy being your little breeding bitch, it’s all I want, all I need.”

“Is it what you need, pet? Are you ready to take this knot in this tiny little cunt? Ready for me to fuck you until you’re a drooling, cum-filled cocksleeve?” He stares into your eyes, pupils dilated so big you could hardly see the gold anymore as you whine your agreement. “Then turn back around.”

Eris pulls his fingers out and sucks on them while you get back on all fours, waiting for him to mount you. He watches you, contemplating, before he sits down and yanks you backward roughly. You gasp when he holds you up by your hips with ease, lining up his cock with your pussy before sliding you all the way down.

Both of you moan and close your eyes, the angle making him feel ten times deeper as he orders you to ride him. You place your hands on his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life as you roll your hips. It feels otherworldly and with each thrust down, the head of his dick hits your g-spot with a marksman-like accuracy.

“Ooooh fuck, Eris, you’re so deep,” You cry, biting down on your bottom lip as you throw your head back in pleasure. He growls and jerks your chin back down, your eyes flying open as he kisses you passionately.

“Eyes on me, pet. Don’t you dare fucking look away.” He commands, shifting between your fucked out face and the way your cunt swallows him whole. “Such a pretty pussy taking my cock so well, ready to be bred until your stomach is swollen and your tits are leaking.”

The imagery makes you whine while Eris emphasizes his point by bending down to suck on your tits, your nipples extra sensitive as he nips at them with those long canines. You grip the back of his head, feeling the coarse hair between your fingertips as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock. 

Already you feel as if you are getting close and he can tell, can feel your walls fluttering around him. What little control he had snaps and he grabs your ass roughly, leaning back on the couch as he starts fucking up into you. The only sound in the room being his animalistic growls and wet fucking.

Pain blossoms in your uterus as he goes deeper than ever, hitting your cervix, but you could care less as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold onto him. You can smell his scent again, feeling his racing pulse, and you sink your teeth into it just as your orgasm starts to come to a crescendo.

The tangy taste of blood in your mouth doesn’t deter you as you scream his name loudly, feeling him bite down on the junction of your shoulder as he roars and buries himself knot deep. It slips in with ease this time, locking you together as his hips keep rutting deep into you.

His cum is as hot as fire as it coats your inside, filling you up until you could see your lower stomach start to bulge out from just how much he was pumping inside you. Eris pulled his teeth out of your skin, blood staining his teeth and chin just as yours was, and pressed your foreheads together.

Both of you were panting like dogs as his thrusts finally slowed until he was completely still, though you could still feel his cock throbbing. He brushed the hair away from your neck gently, whispering your name into your ear while you sagged into him exhaustedly. 

“So good, pet, you did so well,” He praised, kissing your temple as you gave him a small smile. “I’m so proud of you for taking it all.”

“Thanks, love.” You whisper while running your fingers down his back lazily. “That was…”

“Amazing?” Eris finished for you, cupping your face gently as you nodded and gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes. “I agree. I guess it was different than everything else we’ve tried.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying it again sometime.” You tease, kissing him for a moment until he pulls back with a knowing smile. “What?”

“Did you think that was it, pet? That I am done with you already?” He tilts his head, running his thumb over your cheek. “No, no, no, no, no. This was just the beginning. I meant what I said about fucking you until the very last drop…and that was just the first pour.”

You gulp, eyes widening, as you feel his knot slowly shrink until it comes out with a wet squelch. Eris smirked as he nuzzled into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent, before whispering, “Time to fill you up again, pet.”

[ladytauria]

and lets do a "Tim got turned into a cat" au

your pick who picks him up and takes care of him

didn’t expect this to be the one i finished first but i’m not complaining. anyway you get a small snippet plus uh. more than 5 points xD

yknow for as much as i enjoy reading them i don’t think i’ve ever written OR plotted one out before!

hmmm… 🤔

very tempted to go damian for this one bc i love the whole. ‘see a different side of someone’ trope with animal transformation & when it comes to tim i find that trope yummiest w jason & dami lmao

hmmm, am thinking…

Tim gets turned either on patrol or while researching an object. I lean more toward the latter bc I like the idea of them finding him at his apartment or in his nest, and while that’s possible with the first option it’s easier/more likely with the second. And I like the idea of him having been stuck there for a short time lmao.

Could also be fun if maybe he was on research duty bc he had a broken/twisted/sprained arm or leg, so little cat Tim also has an injured limb… Teeny Tim cat with a li’l cast on…

Anyway! Damian and Dick are on patrol together when Babs asks them to check on Tim bc he hasn’t reported in over 24 hours and she just wants to make sure he’s good. Dami is aggravated to be interrupted but also he IS a little concerned bc Tim is generally prompt about his check-ins. And ofc when they get there there’s no sign of Tim, just a little black cat holding one of its paws kind of weird.

They look the place over, collect any evidence, etc. Damian makes some disparaging comments both to hide his own worry but ALSO to distract Dick from his. Def takes charge of the cat, bringing him back to the Cave/Manor to get him some food and medical attention. Maybe says something about Tim’s carelessness, which bothers Tim, making him growl/hiss/scratch at Damian.

Obviously how he acts with everyone around vs just with the cat is different; he’s less prickly when it’s just him & Timcat. The main inspo for me picking Damian and writing all of this was a couple of lines of dialogue that popped in my head when I read this. Something like—

“Just between you and me,” Damian says, his voice low and almost conspiratorial, “I find myself worried for Timothy as well.”

Tim’s ears prick slightly, his head raising ever so slightly off of his paw. His body has turned liquid under the touch of Damian’s hand; gentle yet firm as it runs over the length of his spine.

“For all of his faults, he would not have left you alone. Especially not if you were injured.” Damian’s hand stills, settling just under Tim’s shoulder blades. It’s a warm, comforting weight there—almost as comforting as the words themselves. A soft rumble starts in his torso.

As much as he tries not to care what Damian—what *anyone*—thinks, it… bothered Tim, that Damian believed he could be so callous. To know that it was an act is a relief.

Though it begs the question of *why*.

Damian scratches lightly behind one of Tim’s ears, and his eyes close without his meaning to. He tilts into it, sighing; the soft rumble in his ribs turning louder.

His questions will keep.

Not sure how they ultimately figure out that Tim is the cat, only that I do want Damian to be the one to figure it out. I also want Damian to end up doing a majority of sifting through Tim’s files—lol, maybe taking over for Bruce or Dick bc he didn’t like how they were doing it, and Tim being surprised at how well Damian knows him/his system. (Bc Damian has been studying him.)

Oh OH, also want Tim to decide to take advantage of being a cat to learn more about Damian since Damian talks to him a lot? So he learns more about how Damian feels about him but also more about Damian in general. But then maybe it gets awkward bc Damian maybe starts talking about Tim being pretty and how that just makes his feelings (jealousy, admiration, guilt) even MORE complicated.

Final thought: I kind of want this to be pre-Alfred the Cat? So Damian doesn’t have a cat at all, and Tim gets him one after bc “he knows Damian will take good care of it” and “he always wanted a cat growing up so maybe he could visit it sometimes…”. Cat could maybe be an apology for Tim letting the ruse go on, though I am thinking he DID try to signal early on, they just missed it? But anyway.

[ send me an au and i’ll tell you (at least) 5 things i would have happen in it ]

[mxxtalupyourass]

꧁𖤐 PAUL HARRIS NSFW ALPHABET𖤐꧂

꧁𖤐 WARNINGS: Mentions of period sex, BDSM, blood, public sex.. uh

(Lmk if i missed any!)

A/N: I’m gonna start doing these because these are pretty easy to write.. NEW MASTERLIST COMING SOON!! @rentherainbringer is redoing it for me, so now my masterlist will be a little less.. long. Anyways, send requests for these nsfw alphabets, send ideas for what these people would be like, etc! <3

Masterlist

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

𖤐 He’ll lay there & play with your hair, kissing any marks or even bites he might have given you.

𖤐 Spooning, whispering praises in your ear.

𖤐 He would wash you with a wet cloth gently, with soft eyes.

B= Body Part (Favorite part of their partner, favorite part of themselves)

𖤐 Your neck, obviously. He loves your neck. Perfect to nuzzle, or perfect to bite or kiss.

𖤐 But his favorite favorite? Your thighs.

𖤐 He loves to kiss them, bury his face in them..

𖤐 His favorite part of himself has gotta be his hands. He loves his hands.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum)

𖤐 As mentioned before, he loves your thighs.

𖤐 And he adores cumming on them.

𖤐 The sight of you squirming with his cum running down your thighs is almost enough to make him cum again

D= Dirty Secret (..Just a dirty secret of theirs.)

𖤐 Period sex.

𖤐 He loves it. He gets down on his knees and just.. gets lost.

𖤐 It only got better when he heard that orgasming on your period can help with cramps

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

𖤐 I mean, he’s a vampire. He’s been around for a while.

𖤐 He’s also very attractive, so of course he’s always had women around.

𖤐 So he’s pretty experienced, in my opinion.

F= Favorite Position (..self explanatory)

𖤐 Missionary or cowgirl 100%.

𖤐 He LOVES looking at you while he just absolutely ruins you.

G= Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Or would they try to make you laugh?)

𖤐 It’s Paul, of course he’s gonna be at least a little goofy.

𖤐 He likes making you laugh, it makes him smile.

𖤐 He’ll tickle you randomly to see you smile.

H=Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

𖤐 He’s trimmed.

𖤐 If you ever said it bothered you, it would be gone immediately.

𖤐 And yes. Its like a blondish brown.

𖤐 It’s pretty decently curly too.

I= Intimacy (Are they romantic in the moment?)

𖤐 Depends on his mood

𖤐 If he’s in a good mood, then sure. It can get romantic.

𖤐 If he isn’t in a good mood, then he’s not so romantic.

J= Jack Off (masturbation headcannons)

𖤐 He’s been around for a couple hundred years, and girls were not always readily willing..

𖤐 So he’s definitely cranked a few out.

𖤐 But after you came around, he stopped.

𖤐 Completely stopped.

𖤐 He tried to jerk off one day about a year after you met him and he just couldn’t do it.

𖤐 He discovered that his hand was rather.. dry.

K= Kink (One or more of their kinks)

𖤐 I like to believe he’s into BDSM.

𖤐 Theres something about you taking him and not being able to squirm or move..

𖤐 He’s obviously into blood play/biting.

𖤐 He’s into breeding & i will die on that hill.

𖤐 PUBLIC SEX. So much public sex.

𖤐 He loves the risk of getting caught with you.

L=Location (Favorite place to fuck)

𖤐 In the cave, in front of the other boys.

𖤐 He says he likes showing you off.

𖤐 On the boardwalk too, maybe after closing or in a secluded spot.

M=Motivation (What gets them going)

𖤐 Seeing you in his clothes does something to him.

𖤐 After feeding, he’s super needy.

𖤐 He’s full & he’s energized and he wants you.

N= No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs.)

𖤐 He would definitely feed off of you, but only if you would let him and repeatedly had consent.

𖤐 He wouldn’t EVER hurt you.

O= Oral (Preference in giving and receiving, skill, etc)

𖤐 God, he loves eating you out. So much.

𖤐 Especially when you’re on your period.

𖤐 But.. theres something about seeing your soft lips wrapped around him, choking on him..

𖤐 Seeing you cry for him, trying to take him down your throat..

𖤐 It’s almost too much to handle.

P= Pace (Fast and rough? More gentle?)

𖤐 It really depends on his mood.

𖤐 If he’s in a good mood?

𖤐 You’ll get a softer side of him. One that has a rough pace, but sweet words.

𖤐 He’ll shush you and kiss away your tears as he rails you into next week.

𖤐 However, if he’s in a bad mood..

𖤐 Rough.

𖤐 He’ll call you rough, degrading things while absolutely rearranging your guts.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on them? How often?

𖤐 He fucking hates them.

𖤐 If he’s gonna do it, he’s gonna do it right.

𖤐 He wants to take his time with you, make you feel good.

𖤐 That’s his duty, after all.

R=Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they like taking risks?)

𖤐 He’s into public sex.

𖤐 The risk is part of the fun.

𖤐 As for experimenting, he loves experimenting.

𖤐 Especially if you’re the one who suggested it.

S= Stamina (How long do they last? How many rounds can they go for?)

𖤐 He’s pretty energetic.

𖤐 He’s a vampire after all. He’s pretty pent up.

𖤐 He’s from a time where women didn’t wanna sleep with him unless they were married to him.. so..

𖤐 He made himself pretty familiar to his hand.

T= Toys (Do they own toys? For themselves or for you?)

𖤐 He likes them.

𖤐 He likes to use them on you. He loves seeing your hands tied, seeing you squirm.

𖤐 He also uses toys on you when you suck him off, so his girl can get off too.

U= Unfair (Do they tease? How bad/how much?)

𖤐 He LOVES teasing you.

𖤐 He likes seeing you squirm & whine in desperation.

𖤐 He does give in eventually though, its hard not to when you look at him with tears filling your pretty eyes.

V= Volume (How loud are they? What kind of noises do they make?)

𖤐 He’s pretty whiney.

𖤐 He’ll let out little whimpers when you suck his cock.

𖤐 He can’t help it, you’re just so pretty and warm..

W= Wildcard (Random headcanon)

𖤐 He loves period sex.

𖤐 When he found out that orgasms can help with cramps, it was over for him.

X= X-ray (What’s it look like under those clothes?)

𖤐 He’s decently big, at about 7-8 inches.

𖤐 I like to believe he’s decently girthy too.

𖤐 He knows how to use it well and i will die on that hill.

Y= Yearning (How’s their sex drive?)

𖤐 He’s pretty needy.

𖤐 He can get hard by just thinking about you in general.

Z= Zzzzz (How quickly afterwards do they fall asleep?)

𖤐 He doesn’t fall asleep very quickly.

𖤐 He likes to clean you up & calm you down.

𖤐 He’ll hum you some soft rock song (likely a cinderella song) & play with your hair as you fall asleep on him chest.

I would do things for him that i should be put away for

[aka-indulgence]

Man of the Hour

Decided to make a lil snippet of that J&H idea…

Dr. Sans Aster has been gone for a concerning amount of time, so you decide to pay him a visit (only because you’re a good neighbour.) Instead, you see a face you hadn’t hoped to meet.

——————

It was a miserable night. You tuck your coat tighter around you as you approach the Aster Manor. It looks so welcoming during the day, but at night… it looks haunted, almost. You wonder how Sans likes living here.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen the good doctor. Usually you take a detour to or from the morning market, passing by his residence, and calling up to him in his room on the 2nd floor. After a few times, usually you’d be greeted by the window opening and the skeleton leaning out. Sometimes he’d appear from his labroom window, after an overnight bout of unknown experiments. (The monster kept much to himself, and in a roundabout way instead made him more popular.) For the past few days, however, the window has remained shut, and you haven’t heard any sound of activity from the upper floors.

You would’ve asked others but after a conversation with a friend,

“You talk about Sans a lot. Do you have a thing for him?”

You’ve decided against making your infatuation with the doctor too obvious.

Nevertheless, your morning conversations with him has been a comforting consistency that you miss severely. You’ve tried ignoring it, but today you caved. After another morning of no response, you decided to visit the abode after sundown- if the doctor was busy during the day, surely he’d be resting by now?

You walk up to the dimly lit door and reach for the knocker.

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

 … You didn’t have to wait long before you hear what sounds like smart shoes approaching the door on the other side. You get excited, gripping your coat.

But when the door opens, it isn’t Sans that answers the door.

A deer monster looks at you, his outfit that of a formal servant’s.

“Yes?”

You try not to show your disappointment. But surely… this didn’t mean Sans was absent.

“Good evening, sir… I’m sorry to have bothered you this late at night, but, is Dr. Sans home?”

“Dr. Aster?”

You mentally smack your face- you can’t seem too intimate with him. Your friends would tease you while other people would think you’re being disrespectful.

“I’m sorry, miss. The doctor has been away from home for three days now.”

“Th… three?” Concern floods your voice. “Did- did he tell you where he went?”

“I’m afraid not. The doctor goes on many excursions, often without telling his servants. Just last month he traveled for a week before returning.”

“A week…?”

“He returned every morning. But he informed us only to look for him if he’s been gone for more than a month.”

A month?! That’s even worse than you thought!

He could disappear for a whole month…?

“What is he doing?”

“He does not tell us, miss.”

You frown. “So I assume he isn’t here tonight?”

“No. I’m sorry I could not be of more help to you,”

You sigh. “That’s alright. At least I know a bit more about what he’s doing. Thank you for the information.”

The deer monster bows and closes the door as you walk out of the yard.

You have a bad feeling about this. Not to mention the nasty rumors around town…

There was a new face in town. One unwelcomed by everyone. A man named Horruer just… appeared one day. You’ve never met the man, but you’ve heard nothing good about him. There were rumors of him having ties to Sans, though the story varied from person to person. Your friend believed in the rumor of him blackmailing the doctor.

“He has servants and a house, and I think Dr. Aster funds him..? That sounds highly suspicious to me.”

She said he had a frightening appearance, but hard to describe. Just that he was also a skeleton monster. Some people thought he might be an estranged family member. You don’t know what Sans has to say about it all, though. You hoped Sans was safe, that he didn’t owe the man any favors.

You were deep in your thoughts. Missing his smile, how his soft eyelights would glow when he laughed during the few times you met the doctor out of home, drinking tea together. He was such a smart man… a conversationist, liked by all. His topics were engaging, and he was surprisingly humorful.

Would it be too hopeful to imagine him liking you back..?

Distracted, you don’t register the large body in front of you, and crash into a wall of a man, and stumble forwards.

Before you could mutter apologies, the man starts snarling, a primal sound.

“idiot- don’t you use your eyes when you-?!”

You startle, standing at attention after you turn around. What you see isn’t a face, but a chest. You swallow before you bring your eyes up to see… a new, but known face.

A big red eye is looking down at you. You watch the pupil in its center shrink into a pinprick, edges sharpening. You’re frozen under his stare- despite never having seen him, it’s obvious who this stranger was.

Mr. Horruer.

He was maybe twice your size, in height and width. Almost as big as the large front doors of Sans’ manor. His shoulders were broad, and so was his chest. He was built like a fortress of bones. Though he wore proper clothing, he didn’t look the part. His outer coat was unbuttoned and lopsided. His waistcoat covered more, but the top and middle were unbuttoned. His tie was undone, draped under his collar. His coat didn’t seem old, but it was crinkled.

His teeth was jagged- you aren’t sure if they were sharp canines or if they were simply messy. His eyesockets were mismatched, unlike Sans’. One socket housed the large red orb that peered down at you, while the other was dead, devoid of light. Your eyes trailed up to his head, seeing something peek out of his hat…

The monster gasped, teeth becoming set as he holds it down, covering whatever it was. You flinched- you weren’t thinking. You’ve heard that Mr. Horruer was neurotic about never being seen without his hat. You heard of Mr. Enfield having a rough bump with the skeleton and almost knocking his hat off- the altercation almost turned violent.

You felt your fingers grow cold. The man was more terrifying than what you’ve heard the townsfolk have said. You’ve met many monsters in this town but Horruer was truly monstrous. Just looking at him made your spine tingle unpleasantly, like there was instinctual in you that told you this man was dangerous.

You hear a crack, and see his bony hands turned to fists beside him, and his breathing grow louder, every breath causing his upper body to rise and fall. His teeth was still set, and his eye hadn’t moved.

Your body screamed- you were in danger.

“I-I’m so sorry. I di-didn’t see anything. So sorry, Mr. Horruer,” you stuttered, taking a few frightful paces back before you turned on your heel and ran home.

It was crass, clumsy, impolite, and frankly, unladylike. But you didn’t want to know what Horruer could do with his hands, and you didn’t want to find out if the rumors of his aberrant ‘hobbies’ were true or not.

He looked like he was itching to kill me.

You felt something red burning a hole into your back as you fled.

…

…

…….

“... (y/n).”

[sophiacloud28]

Bayverse WIP Excerpt

Bayverse stuff because I realized I posted something for all the turtles save for Mikey. I feel bad.

Excerpt, Bayverse Mikey, bonding

She's so busy.

Four days into staying with them and he's barely seen her without someone around or doing something. She's always cooking, always working with Donnie, always training with either Raph or Leo. And while the others seem to be trying to make sure they don't ruffle her feathers, he's seeing exhaustion starting to line her body more and more as they leave for patrol, and he hates it. He absolutely loathes it.

"Pizza's fine for tonight."

And that's why, when she talks about dinner, he finally decides to butt in.

He doesn’t like seeing her upset. He doesn't like the fact that she goes quiet as they work on breakfast — cooking's a blast, he should do it more often. But he can see the shadows under her eyes and it's starting to bother him.

"By the way, I'm calling dibs on your afternoon."

"But –"

"Dibs."

So, for once in his life, he's going to take a little of what he's been seeing Leo do and try to apply it.

Won't stick, but at least it gets her out of the lair and away from his brothers for a bit, even if it means he's gotta anger Leo by grabbing her and taking off on his skateboard.

"Michelangelo!"

Along with upsetting her once he puts her down, flinching under the look.

"I called dibs."

"And I was talking to your brother about it! You know Leo!"

"Yeah, well. Mr. Fearless Leader is being overprotective, if you ask me," he says, spinning his skateboard under his hand.

"Mikey."

"Not to mention passive. I mean, how has he not noticed when he already did it twice?" he ignores her objection while grabbing his board to put it slide it onto his shell, deciding to continue when she doesn’t respond, "Not because I'm not around that I don't notice you being all over the place, you know. Other than when you pass out on the couch, have you taken a break?"

"I meditate."

He scowls, "Fat lot of good that's doing you. You looked more tired coming out of that session than going in."

"How would you know?"

Good old brittle defense, "Cooking sesh aren't just because I wanna help, you know?"

Which he hates seeing cave in, but he knows it to be necessary as she takes a slight step back, hands going behind her back in guilt.

"I didn't… I'm sorry, Michelangelo."

"It's fine. Just… someone's gotta do something and my brothers ain't doing it."

"Fair," she breathes before speaking up, "So, what did you have in mind?"

"You still owe me a movie, but I guess we can do that next time. Walk? I can show you what I found."

"Unless we plan a movie night, I don't think that'll happen, Mikey."

"There's one every month. Only thing is who gets to choose the movie."

"Every month?" she asks, making him nod.

"Yeah. Once a month we take a break from patrol and stay home. Family thing. I think this month's at the end of this week, actually."

"Who's choice?"

"Mine. But I can make it yours. Did you have an idea?"

"I think I might. What do you guys like watching?"

"Leo loves period stuff, Raph's big into action movies, Donnie likes documentaries, and Dad likes Eastern movies."

"What about you?"

"As long as it can capture my attention for more than five minutes, it's a winner."

She chuckles, "Something tells me that's not as simple as it sounds."

"Just from listening to my brothers' groans? Nah."

"I think I might have something, then. As long as you guys are alright with slight gore and weird visuals."

"Weird visuals?"

"It's animated, so some of the expressions are really exaggerated. But the story's interesting."

"… I don't think we've watched anything animated."

"You up for it, then?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sounds fun."

"I'll ask April to snag it from home, then. Do you guys have a DVD player?"

He snorts, "Wait until you see the setup, pretty girl. You won't wonder about that then."

She giggles, "Fair enough." Before coming to a stop along the tracks, "I'm sorry I worried you, Mikey."

And he tries waving it off, "Just remember to take a break every once in a while. It says something when Leo and Donnie catch more of a break than you do."

"You think so?"

"They get lunch and dinner. You don't."

"… Fair enough."

Before walking back to her, not liking the way she's holding onto her arm and not looking his way.

He might not know the full details, but he can tell she's got it rough. No one breaks their back to support another unless they know somebody else will, or they're looking for something. And from the way Stella reacts, she's in the latter camp.

"Hey Stella?"

"Hm?"

"I know the rest of my brothers are stingy about it, but... You're family, okay? You don't need to show us you're useful."

She smiles, "I know. Hamato-san said the same thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoes, "Said something about Leo and I being fated to meet."

"Well, I don't know about fate, but I do know that I'm glad to have you around. I feel a bit more useful now thanks to all those cooking lessons, so much so that I was hoping to ask you if we could trade off. I cook some, you cook some. And, well, if nothing else, you're making us happy, and that's enough all on its own, I would think."

"… Is that the reason you took my afternoon?"

He waves his hand in a so-so motion, rubbing the back of his head, "Kind of. I really think you need a break, and the fact that I wanted to ask you if I could try cooking lunch on my own tomorrow was secondary."

"Tomorrow's lunch?"

"Yeah. I think I got a good idea on how to get everything done. If you want, though, you can stick around and give me advice."

"I was planning on using the pressure cooker for tomorrow's lunch, actually."

… Oh.

"Pressure cooker?"

"The tall pot that's right next to the slow cooker. The pork shoulder has already been thawing in the fridge for a day, now."

He brings his hands in front of himself in a stop motion, "Is that the only thing that's new?"

"Yes."

"Can you give me instructions on how to use it?"

"More than."

"Then you sit at the island and tell me what needs to be done and I'll do it. How's that sound?"

"If the fact that you've been able to keep up with me during the chicken stew is any indication, I think you'll be more than able to."

"Really?"

She nods with a smile, "Really. The only thing is the pressure cooker since it's something you don't know, but with how you get in the kitchen, you should be fine."

And joy bubbles up to the surface as he grabs her and twirls her around. There's a gasp before giggles come pouring out while he settles her on his shoulder, and he pulls out his skateboard while keeping a hand on her.

"Let me down, Mikey."

"Nah. I got something I want to show you."

"Wouldn't it be easier in a fireman's carry?"

"And have you missing the show? No way. You get the VIP seat, pretty girl," he replies as he rolls his shoulder, getting a giggle and something warm laying itself on his temple. He looks up and blinks as he catches sight of her smile. Of something soft in her eyes that makes him grin in turn.

"Thank you, Mikey." Before he chirps, almost embarrassing himself if not for the gentle chuckle she gives at it.

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