#thorn? torn masterlist

[parkerslatte]

Clouded | Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: blood and injury. mentions of torture. beron in general.

Summary: Y/N works as a servant in the Forest House when an unfortunate encounter with Eris leaves her without her job with no valid reason. When she is at her small house, Eris shows up covered in blood. Truths Y/N has wanted to know for years come to light.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

Part One | Part Two

•••

Y/N tried to carry herself with as much grace as she could muster. At least if she looked like she belonged, people would respect her more. Her servant clothes were ratty and torn, Beron had no care in the world to use his money to supply the servants who weren’t typically seen around the Forest House in a lavish uniform. The only reason Y/N was walking around the house was because her friend had gotten sick so Y/N took on her duties as well as her own. 

The hall was empty when Y/N entered it. No voices were to be heard so Y/N relaxed her shoulders. All she needed to do was get to Beron’s personal kitchens and collect all of the pots and pans to be swapped out with new ones. The only thing Y/N wanted to avoid on her way there was—

She collided with a firm chest and before Y/N knew it, she crashed to the floor, knocking all of the air out of her. 

“Of course it would be you I run into,” a voice sneered. 

Y/N finally looked at the person she collided with and her worry turned into anger. “Out of everyone, why have I been cursed to see your face this early in the morning.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “What are you doing in this part of the house? The last I heard you work four floors below where no one is witness to your unsightly appearance.”

“I am doing my friend's work while she is sick,” Y/N answered. “I guess it is a foreign concept to you. Both work and friends.”

Eris offered a sarcastic smile in return. “I see your comebacks have changed.”

“I see you have changed, for the worse,” Y/N muttered. 

Y/N remembered centuries ago when she once considered Eris a friend— perhaps even more. She thought he was the most amazing person ever. What a huge misjudge of character. 

Y/N held out her hand. “The least you can do is help me up.”

Eris looked around the hallway for a brief moment. Y/N sighed. Of course he would look before being caught touching a simple servant girl. 

The moment their hands touched, Y/N gripped onto Eris’s hand tightly before pulling harshly. The heir of the Autumn Court was swept off his feet and came tumbling to the ground. 

Y/N only intended for him to fall down next to her— not on top of her. Eris’s elbows were braced on either side of Y/N’s head as he saved himself from his entire weight pressing on top of her. His body was perfectly slotted between her thighs. His face hovered over hers, so close she could feel his breath brush her face like a gentle caress. 

Y/N met Eris’s eyes and her heart skipped a beat. She had forgotten how beautiful the colour of his eyes were. 

“Y/N, I—“

Footsteps echoed down the hallway and Eris rushed to get up from Y/N. The moment he was on his feet and straightening his jacket, Beron walked around the corner. 

Eris looked down at Y/N, a scowl on his face. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

Beron cleared his throat. “Eris, is this vermin bothering you?”

“No,” Eris said quickly. “She isn’t.”

“But, you mentioned—“

“I will escort her out, Father,” Eris said and gripped Y/N’s upper arm. 

Before Y/N could say anything, Eris dragged her down the hallway and out of sight. Once Y/N was sure they were alone, Y/N pulled her arm from Eris’s grip. 

“Eris, get off me!” Y/N exclaimed. “I need to get back and do my job.”

Eris only gripped her arm once more and pulled her into a small storage room. He pressed his back against the door. 

“Eris,” Y/N said. “I need to get back to work.”

“No you’re not, Y/N,” Eris said. “You are leaving.”

Y/N scoffed. “I am not leaving. If this is just for pulling you down to the floor and harming your ego—“

“It isn’t about that, Y/N!” Eris snapped. “But you are leaving and never coming back here again. If I ever see you in this house ever again, I will banish you from this court myself.”

Y/N’s heart dropped. “Eris…”

“Go, Y/N,” Eris said. “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

Eris opened the door and gestured for her to step out. Y/N followed, her gaze cast down to the floor. 

“I am sorry, Eris,” Y/N muttered. “But I need to keep this job. I cannot afford my house without it.”

“That is not my problem, Y/N,” Eris replied, straightening his jacket once more. 

“Please, Eris,” Y/N begged. “Out of everyone in this house, you are the one who knows of my situation.”

There seemed to be a flash of regret across Eris’s face but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a sneer. “Y/N, I do not care about your situation. If your father were any smarter then he wouldn’t have gotten himself in debt before he passed, leaving you to pay it all off.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears. “I hate you, Eris Vanserra.”

“I hear that a lot,” Eris said, looking away from Y/N. “It doesn’t sound any different when you say it. Leave, Y/N, before I need to force you.”

Eris sauntered down the hall, leaving Y/N alone in the centre of the grand hall, tears falling down her cheeks. 

***

The following day, Y/N spent hours looking for jobs in the nearest village. Conveniently no one was hiring. The moment she was home, Y/N spilled out all of her savings onto her bed. Although she had already paid over half of her father’s debt, she still had a long way to go. Paying only half had taken her nearly a century with the wage she was on. 

Y/N sighed and slumped down into the small tattered armchair. She loved her father dearly, she always had and she grieved him more than she cared to admit. But she hated him sometimes. She hated him for leaving her with the burden of his debts. 

Before she and her father were cast out in the Autumn Court, her father was well respected amongst the nobles and often spent his time with Beron and his other advisors. He often brought Y/N along and it was there she first met Eris. The heir was an only child at the time so was often bored of playing on his own. It didn’t take them long to form a friendship. They were attached at the hip…until the long awaited consequences of her fathers debts caught up to him. 

Beron offered her father a job in the house to earn money to pay his debts, probably the only kindness Y/N saw the High Lord give at the time. Only it wasn’t a kindness at all, it was simply a death sentence. Beron was well aware of her fathers debts amongst the other nobles and allowed him to fight in his army, completely untrained and unarmed– leaving Y/N completely alone. 

At first she thought she could rely on Eris and she could, until his brother came alone when they were twenty. It was as if a switch flipped within Eris. He went from Y/N’s best friend to someone she hated and despised. He was cruel and cold, despite the fire coursing through his veins. Y/N hated that she still saw him occasionally around the Forest House…well, that wouldn’t be a problem now. 

Y/N tried not to cry as she looked at the money on the bed. She barely had enough to pay for her food for the week. There were times where Y/N debated running away, she debated leaving Prythian completely, somewhere where Autumn had no ties. She could start a new life– a happier one. 

But something always pulled her back. Y/N didn’t know what but she needed to find out. 

A loud thump echoed through her small house. Y/N stilled and didn’t move. What if it was someone trying to claim their money now that they knew she wasn’t protected by the walls of the Forest House? What if they weren’t there for money at all?

Another loud thump, this time more desperate. 

Y/N carefully slid her dagger out from its hiding place and slowly walked to her front door. 

Another thump more desperate than the last. 

“Y/N…” Eris’s voice weakly called out. “Please…let me in.”

Y/N walked faster over to her front door and opened it with a scowl. 

Her dagger clattered to the floor. 

She let out a gasp. 

Eris collapsed into her arms.

***

Y/N panicked as she rushed around Eris to clean up all of the blood covering his body. And from the scent of it, every single drop was his. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow as she cut away his white shirt. Well she assumed it was originally white. 

His pale torso was coated with a layer of blood, some had dried but most of it seemed fresh. The deeper wounds still bled freely. 

Y/N wasn’t sure what to do. She could only heal small wounds and gashes, that was only what her father had taught her. This was extreme but they were too far away from a proper healer. By the time they got there, Eris would be dead. 

“Come on, Y/N,” she muttered to herself. “You can do this.”

She worked on stopping the blood flow from the large open gash in his side. She wiped away all of the dried blood surrounding the area. The gash wasn’t as large as she originally thought but it was deep– too deep for her to deal with. 

Tears pricked Y/N’s eyes. Not only would she be an outcast from the village because of the debt she owed but now she would be an outcast because she let the heir to the court die. 

“Eris,” Y/N whispered. “Please stay with me. Don’t you dare die on me. Not today.”

***

Most of the larger wounds on Eris’s body were cleaned and were slowly beginning to heal. The smaller cuts and bruises were only faintly there now. Y/N’s hands were still stained red from Eris’s blood. She hadn’t moved from her position on her coffee table since she finished sewing up the gaping wound in his side. Y/N was sure she had never been so scared in her life. What would have happened if she wasn’t able to help Eris? There were instances where she was sure he was going to die right there on her couch. Y/N shook her head, banishing the thought from her mind. Eris was alive, the clear rise and fall of his chest gave that away, no matter how shallow it was. 

Despite her uncomfortable position atop the coffee table, Y/N didn’t move, didn’t blink as she watched Eris. His wounds had slowly begun to heal but she still did not trust her own healing abilities fully. If any of the wounds got infected whilst they healed, Y/N didn’t want to wake to Eris dead on her couch. 

Y/N let out a yawn but continued to keep her eyes open. 

***

When Eris finally awoke, it was to a shout of pain. He shot up from his position on the couch, ripping open the wound Y/N had so carefully stitched. His hand flung to his side, pressing down to slow the bleeding. 

Y/N ran into the room, panic flooding her eyes. Eris was confused. Why was Y/N here? His heart beat faster as he surveyed the room. It had been many, many years since he had last been inside this small cabin but he recognised it instantly. Eris only began to panic even more. 

“Of course you wake when I was getting a drink for myself,” Y/N said, sitting down on the table in front of him. “And you ripped your stitches open.”

“Y/N,” Eris gasped. “What am I doing here?”

Y/N wiped her hands down her face. As she shuffled closer, he could identify the dark circles under her eyes that he knew were not there the last time he had seen her. And as she shuffled closer he only now noticed his lack of shirt, bare skin exposed to the air. Shame instantly rose within Eris. 

“You turned up here yesterday evening,” Y/N said, a haunted look in her eyes as her gaze drifted to the side. “You were covered in blood– your blood.”

Eris gulped down air as he pressed on his wound harder, he could feel the blood begin to slither between his fingers as he tried his best to keep it within his body. 

“Here,” Y/N said, the softest Eris had heard her voice in years. “Let me help.”

“You’ve done enough,” Eris said, letting his facade and walls turn to steel. “I can deal with it from here.”

The moment Eris went to stand, he collapsed instantly. Y/N rushed to his side and helped him settle back on the couch. The bloodstained couch. It was a wonder how he was even alive.

“Let me help you, Eris,” Y/N said, more firmly this time. A tone he was far more used to.

“Why?” Eris scoffed. “Because you care about me?”

“No,” Y/N said. If she had any idea of the dagger that word sent to his heart. “I don’t need the heir of Autumn to die on my couch. I’m already an outcast in the village already.”

Eris's eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Y/N.“

“I’m glad I could help you Eris, but why are you here? You threatened me with banishment not even a day ago and now you show up here begging for help,” Y/N said. 

Eris sighed. “I don’t know why I ended up here, Y/N.” It was a lie but Y/N didn’t need to know the truth— at least not yet. 

“Then what happened? You nearly died on me multiple times,” Y/N said, her voice catching. Eris fought the urge to reach out. 

“I can’t say, Y/N,” Eris said, looking at his bloody hands. 

Y/N scoffed. “Eris, you show up on my doorstep close to death and you cannot tell me what happened?”

Eris squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t, Y/N.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” 

“Both,” Eris said, meeting her eyes again. 

Y/N sighed. “Let me see your wound back up.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I need to leave,” Eris said. 

He tried to stand but the moment he tried, he grunted in pain. His side felt as if it were on fire. 

“Eris, you need to have this stitched again,” Y/N said, shuffling closer. “It won’t heal properly otherwise.”

Eris held her gaze. He could see the gleam of the unshed tears lingering in her eyes. Eris knew they weren’t for him. They were because of him. If he had died within her house, he didn’t even want to imagine what the rest of the village would say about her. He didn’t want to imagine what his own father would do to her. Eris only knew it would be far worse than what was done to him. 

“Fine,” Eris said and allowed himself to pull his hand away from the wound. It was still bleeding but not as much as before. 

Silently, Y/N moved to his side, sitting down on the dried blood. Eris cringed. That was his blood covering the couch. It was his blood covering her dress. 

Eris could barely feel the needle stitching his skin back together. All he did was stare forwards at the small table in the centre of the room. It was the same table as the last time he was in this house, Eris noticed. 

***

511 Years Ago

Eris laughed as Y/N pulled him into her house. It was late at night and the house was empty, her father was working late and Y/N took it upon herself to drag Eris back here. 

“Y/N, why have you dragged me here?” A twenty year old Eris asked as a nineteen year old Y/N dragged him down to sit on the couch. 

“It was your birthday a few days ago,” Y/N said. “And I know that you didn’t do much for it because your mother and father have been fussing over your mothers pregnancy. So…”

Y/N reached into her small bag and pulled out a small box. She handed it to Eris. 

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” Eris said. 

“Well I did,” Y/N said, casually holding onto his arm. 

Eris slowly opened the box and was greeted by the sight of the most beautiful ring. 

“I had it engraved!” Y/N said excitedly. “I know how much you love to be around me…”

Eris rolled his eyes but didn’t object. 

“So,” Y/N continued. “You will always have a piece of me with you. I asked for the gem in my necklace to be split into two.”

Eris read the engraved text on the inner part of the ring. 

“For the days you feel alone…”

“I have a matching one,” Y/N said, taking her own ring out of her pocket. 

“All you need to do is touch the gem embedded in the metal and I will feel it,” Y/N said. “The same with me.”

Y/N slipped her own ring onto her finger. It was thinner than Eris’s ring yet just as beautiful. She lightly ran her finger over the gem and Eris felt his ring heat up the smallest amount. 

“Y/N…” Eris said, looking at the ring in his finger. “How much did you spend on this?”

Y/N shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

Eris looked at Y/N, many emotions overwhelmed him to the point where he couldn’t find the words to say. Despite having a good relationship with his mother, she had never gotten him a meaningful present before. His father never really cared about birthdays so Eris rarely even got a ‘Happy Birthday’ from his father. 

But this gift from Y/N trumped any other gift he had received before, or will ever receive. He felt a tug and his breath was gone for a brief moment. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” Eris said, his finger gliding over the small gem. 

Y/N smiled. “You’re welcome. Now you will always know I am beside you.”

Eris couldn’t think of anything to do but pull her into him, wrapping his arms around her body. Y/N’s arms snaked around his neck, embracing him tightly. 

The scent of her overwhelmed Eris. Her scent was once he could always pick out in a crowd of a thousand. It was comforting for him, it made him feel safe, loved. 

“Y/N…” Eris began, afraid for the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “I love you.”

Y/N’s body went rigid before she pulled away from Eris, an indescribable expression on her face. Eris’s heart sank. 

He quickly avoided her gaze and shuffled uncomfortably on the couch. “I’m sorry. Just forget I said anything.”

Just as he went to stand up, Y/N gently clasped his hand. “You love me?”

Eris met her gaze once more. “I do. I have for a while now, I just didn’t want to complicate things. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Y/N shook her head. “You haven’t lost me as a friend, and you never will.”

Eris offered a stiff smile. “Well I would prefer it if we just completely forget that this ever happened between us.”

“Why?”

Eris shuffled. “Because you don’t return my feelings.”

Y/N smiled, soft and gentle. “I never said that.”

Eris’s heart skipped a beat. 

Y/N laced her fingers with his. “I love you too, Eris. I never said anything because I thought you would never return my feelings.”

A sigh of relief slipped past Eris’s lips. “You love me back?”

“Of course I do,” Y/N said, positioning her body closer to Eris. “How could I not?”

Eris smiled. “I honestly don’t know what to do.”

“I do,” Y/N said and soon enough her lips were pressed firmly against Eris’s. 

***

“Eris,” Y/N said. “Eris!”

Eris snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention away from the table in front of him. “Yes?”

“You’ve been staring blankly at the table ever since I began stitching up your wound,” Y/N said. 

Eris looked down and noticed she had already finished. He barely felt it at all. “Thank you.”

Y/N nodded before moving away from him. Despite the fire coursing through his veins, Eris suddenly felt cold. 

“Now are you going to tell me what happened?” Y/N asked as she wiped the blood from her hands. 

“No,” Eris replied, grunting in pain as she shifted positions. 

“Still so stubborn,” Y/N muttered.

“I need to leave,” Eris said. “I don’t want my mother wondering where I disappeared to. And I have other matters to finish.”

“You are not going anywhere,” Y/N said. “Not until you are fully healed anyway.”

“I am leaving, Y/N,” Eris said.

“You can barely stand without causing pain,” Y/N commented.

“I can,” Eris said. 

Y/N folded her arms across her chest. “Prove it.”

“Fine,” Eris said.

This time Eris did manage to get to his feet but the pain all over his body made him sway in place. He felt as if he were being beaten all over again. 

“See,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Sit back down, Eris.”

“I’m not staying here, Y/N,” Eris said as she took an excruciating step towards the front door. “I can’t.”

“Why? Afraid being seen with a servant girl will ruin your image?” Y/N spat.”

“Don’t,” Eris hissed.

“Don’t what?” Y/N said, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Eris said. “You are so much more than that.”

“As if you believe that, Eris,” Y/N scoffed. “For years you have looked down upon me for being a worker in the Forest House. You have sneered at me in the halls. You have constantly belittled me whenever someone sees you talking to me. You act like I am the scum of the whole of Prythian. I can’t believe I loved you all those years ago.”

Loved. 

Past tense.

The one word cut Eris deeper than any other wound on his body. Of course he already knew that Y/N no longer loved him but it didn't hurt any less to hear it come from her mouth. 

“I have my reasons for everything, Y/N,” Eris said, closing his eyes, wishing he were anywhere else. 

“It would help a lot for you to justify them,” Y/N said, her voice cracking. “You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. I always imagined what our life would be like together. I pictured it every day. The day my fathers debts were made public, you comforted me, you stayed with me for those first few weeks when it was the hardest. It was in those moments when I realised how deep my love went for you. Everyone else abandoned me, but you stayed.”

“But the moment your brother Tycho was born, everything suddenly shifted. You became a completely different person. You became cruel, distant and cold, not just toward me but to everyone who was close to you,” Y/N said, her eyes brimming with tears. “You became a stranger to me. I thought it was just the stress and gave you the benefit of the doubt but the moment my father passed away and I heard you laugh with your father about it, I knew that beautiful heart inside your body had turned to stone.”

Eris squeezed his eyes shut. “I had my reasons.”

“As you’ve said, but I deserve to know the reason why the Eris standing before me right now, killed the male I was once in love with.” Y/N’s voice broke and Eris dreaded to find out what he would find if he opened his eyes. 

“I can’t–”

“That is bullshit, Eris,” Y/N exclaimed. “I deserve to know why the male bleeding in my living room replaced the one who I shared so much of myself with.”

Slowly, Eris opened his eyes. Tears were streaming down Y/N’s face. Eris’s heart clenched as he fought the instinctual urge to reach for her. 

“It was because of you,” Eris confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I did all of it to protect you from my father and my younger brothers, everything.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked. 

“I have already told you too much, Y/N,” Eris said. “I need to go before my father finds out where I am.”

As Eris turned, Y/N suddenly gasped. 

“Eris,” Y/N said. “Your back…”

He knew what she could see. The scars that littered his back were his own secret, one he preferred no one else knew about, not even his own mother. When Eris had received the beating from his father, he was shocked to discover that he wouldn’t be adding to the collection on his back, but on his torso and chest instead. 

“I told you I needed to protect you from my father,” Eris said before limping out of the small house. 

The moment the cold air hit his skin, Eris hissed in pain. He was more aware of every cut and wound on his body. 

“Eris, don’t walk away,” Y/N begged as she followed him.

“Y/N, go back inside,” Eris said. “And don’t ever talk to me again. I can’t let him anywhere near you.”

“At least stay until you are healed,” Y/N said. “Your power is drained. Are you really going to walk all the way to the Forest House from here? You could die in this cold.”

“Better out there than in your house,” Eris said, each step felt like a rain of daggers. 

“Eris, please just come back inside,” Y/N said. 

“Y/N, the longer I stay here, the more danger you are in,” Eris said. “My father has most likely already sent my brothers after me. I cannot be seen with you. It will only confirm his suspicions.”

“What suspicions?” Y/N asked.

The more Eris walked the more he could feel his energy drain. He dragged his feet along the path to the gate of Y/N’s garden. His legs began to get weaker and weaker and his head spun. He had lost too much blood to be up on his feet this fast. 

“Please, go back inside,” Eris muttered.

“No, what suspicions, Eris?” Y/N asked. 

“Please…” Eris said, feeling himself get weaker. 

He buckled under his own weight and fell onto the cobblestones below him. He could barely lift his arm up. The sound of Y/N’s quick footsteps echoed on the ground and she appeared in his vision. 

“Y/N,” Eris mumbled. “Please, just leave me here.”

“No,” Y/N said. “I told you to stay inside but you didn’t listen.”

“I can’t be seen with you,” Eris siad, his vision becoming blurred.

“I don’t care, I am not leaving you here to die. I won’t let you,” Y/N said.

“I can’t let you get close to me,” Eris whispered. “It was the only way to stop it.”

Eris couldn’t stop the words falling from his mouth. Everything he never wanted to say aloud was coming to light. 

“Stop what? You are not making any sense right now,” Y/N asked and Eris felt the warm caress of her hand on the side of his face. From what he could see, Y/N looked concerned, all the hatred for him had seemed to be wiped clean from her face. 

“Stop the bond snapping,” Eris mumbled, leaning into her touch. “You are my mate, Y/N.”

Eris’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt himself drift into unconsciousness. 

[sweetblinginrose]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗,

(OS Eddie Munson x fem!reader geek)

summary: Rival Dungeons and Dragons reader who has a tournament and ends up without clothes. Oops…

word count: 6,6k +

warnings: obv +18, rivalry, unprotected sex, asphyxiation, bad language, cumming inside, female masturbation, culilingus.

a/n: hey lol, i wrote this half asleep so idk how it turned out, i'll see if it's any good or not later, so if there is something wrongly translated or that you don't find makes sense, pls let me know, hugs!

oh and don't copy my idea, it's my own huh 🦄

masterlist

part 2 !!

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

The Sith Order.

All the members of the Hellfire Club and your group, The Sith Order, maintained a cordial and mutually respectful relationship, with the exception of the tense rivalry between you and the opposing leader, the insufferable Eddie. You hated him so much, especially now that you had bet your grand dice, which your brother had given you as a gift.

The abandoned cabin loomed like a shadow among the trees of the forest, a forgotten refuge that now housed your group of friends and your imaginary adventures. Inside, the air was filled with a smell of dampness and earth, a constant reminder of nature reclaiming its space. The once cozy and lived-in furniture was now covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs that wove complex patterns in every corner.

The sofa, your throne, was worn out, with upholstery torn in several places, revealing the crumbling yellowed foam at the touch. Dark stains of time adorned the fabric, and every time you moved, a cloud of dust rose like a sigh from the cabin itself. Sitting there, on your stomach, with a furrowed brow and crossed arms, you couldn't help but feel the rough and cold texture of the sofa against your skin, a reminder of your recent defeat in the game.

Around you, the tables wobbled on uneven legs, their surfaces scratched and marked with circles from past glasses. The faded and torn curtains hung sadly from the windows, allowing dim light to filter in and illuminate the dust particles in the air. The floor creaked under the weight of footsteps, and each floorboard seemed to tell a story of abandonment.

In this space, time seemed to have stopped, and every object told the story of a better past now eclipsed by neglect and desolation.

You felt as if a storm was brewing inside you, a mixture of frustration and challenge that consumed you as you sat on the sofa. The defeat in the friendly game was a thorn in your pride, a small battle lost in a war that seemed to extend beyond the game of dragons and dungeons. The rivalry with the Hellfire Club and its leader, Eddie, was the real dragon to be defeated, and every thought of him fueled the flames of your resentment.

Eddie, with his arrogant smile and his ability to bring out the best in his players, had become the antagonist not only in the game, but in your mind and life. You imagined him, with his tousled hair and carefree attitude, as the perfect villain for your campaign, one who seemed to enjoy every time his group came out victorious. The idea that he might consider your defeat as a point in his favor was unbearable.

While your friends continued with the campaign, laughing, stressed, focused, and rolling dice, you immersed yourself in your thoughts, planning your next move. It was not just a matter of winning a game; it was a matter of honor, of proving that your group could overcome any challenge, even the infamous Hellfire Club. Determination began to replace frustration, and although you still felt the bitterness of defeat, there was now a new goal on the horizon: to defeat Eddie and prove that your group was the best in the fantasy game.

But... were you really prepared for tonight?

...

Eddie, with a sly smile and a spark of malice in his eyes, steps forward to greet you in the lair of the Hellfire Club, the basement of the institute, the setting of countless campaigns and now the battlefield of your latest challenge. As the girls from your club gather in the space, filled with detailed maps and meticulously painted character figures, Eddie focuses on you, his most formidable rival.

"Welcome, oh great 'Mialee!'" he exclaims with an exaggeratedly theatrical and ironic tone, making a reference to the elven mage character to underline his mockery. "I hope your spells are as sharp as your tongue this time, and that your strategies are less predictable than your expressions of defeat."

You can feel the gaze of the others on you, some with complicit smiles and others with cautious curiosity. Eddie continues, not missing the opportunity to poke at your pride: "I hope you brought your Dragon Crystal Die, because something tells me you're going to need all the luck you can get."

The lair resonates with the stifled laughter of the club members, and although you know that Eddie's words are part of the rivalry game, you also feel that each joke is a challenge to your skill and determination. With a firm gaze and unwavering resolve, you prepare to show that this battle will be different, that this time, Eddie will be the one left speechless at the end of the night.

"You are living proof that not everything that glitters in a treasure is gold, and in your case, it's not even copper," you say, challenging him as you look him in the eyes. With a confidence that resonates in every word, you confront Eddie, your eyes shining with the reflection of the candles that illuminate the basement. "I hope you haven't forgotten your part of the bet, Eddie," you say with a firm and clear voice that cuts through the tension in the room. "That Orb of Entwined Destinies you so proudly show off will be mine before the moon reaches its zenith."

The Orb of Entwined Destinies was a perfect sphere of dark crystal, with a core that seemed to contain a miniature nebula, ever-changing and slowly rotating. It was more than just an object for Eddie; it was a symbol of his ability to manipulate probabilities and destiny within the game.

The mention of the orb makes Eddie's smile falter for a moment, a crack in his facade of confidence. You know you have hit a sensitive point, reminding him that you are not the only one with something valuable at stake. "Get ready, Eddie," you continue, "because when I'm done with you and the Hellfire Club, that orb will be the trophy of The Sith Order, and your luck will change forever," you spit, leaving the boys dumbfounded, unlike his group of friends, as they were used to this kind of speech.

Lucas, with a carefree smile and a tone bordering on disbelief, tries to lighten the atmosphere that has built up in the room. "Come on, guys, don't you realize? It's just a dumb bet, right? There's no need to turn this into an epic battle or something..." he comments, his voice a thread of sanity in the tapestry of rivalry unfolding before him.

However, his attempt to lighten the mood is quickly quashed by a severe look from both leaders, who in a rare moment of unity gesture to him with a stern gesture and an almost synchronized "Shh!" The seriousness of their bet is not something they are willing to downplay, even with Lucas' playful interjection.

The battle between The Sith Order and the Hellfire Club unfolds in a fantasy world woven with the magic of dragons and dungeons, but the tension is as real as the beating hearts of the players. The room, illuminated by the flickering light of the candles, has transformed into an epic battlefield where each roll of the dice resonates like the clash of swords.

The Sith Order bravely faces the challenges posed by Eddie and his Hellfire Club. The dice roll on the table like distant thunder, dictating the fate of heroes and villains alike. You, The Sith Order, with characters ranging from cunning rogues to powerful sorceresses, maneuver through traps and puzzles that Eddie has crafted with malicious skill. The battle intensifies, with each strategic move and each spell cast adding layers to the unfolding narrative. Your characters fight hordes of infernal creatures, cross dark abysses, and decipher ancient codices to unravel the secrets that will lead them to victory.

As the night progresses, a tie seems imminent. The Hellfire Club has countered every attack, every plan, with a precision bordering on the supernatural. But you, with your leading character, are not willing to give up. With a mix of cunning and a bit of luck, you roll the dice for one last masterful play. Silence fills the room as the dice roll, dancing on the edge of the abyss between victory and defeat. Finally, they settle, and the numbers they show are the harbinger of a tide change. Your play has been successful, overcoming the defenses of the Hellfire Club and securing an unexpected triumph.

Eddie, with a look of genuine astonishment, acknowledges the victory of The Sith Order, albeit reluctantly. You, with a smile of satisfaction, accept the Orb of Entwined Destinies, now rightfully yours.

Amidst the euphoria of victory, one of the girls from your group, with a contagious smile and an overflowing energy, suggests an idea that captures everyone's attention. "How about we celebrate with some pizzas? It would be great to relax and enjoy the moment," she says enthusiastically.

The idea is met with a mix of nods and smiles. It is a comfortable and familiar proposition, a perfect way to lower the intensity of the night and simply enjoy each other's company. Everyone, except you and Eddie, seems to agree. The tension of the battle still clings to you, and the idea of sharing a table with Eddie and his club, even in a neutral and friendly environment, is something that you find hard to accept, just like Eddie.

However, aware that rejecting the offer could be seen as poor sportsmanship, both of you reluctantly agree with a gesture of resignation. "Fine, but only because I'm hungry," you murmur, trying to hide your reluctance behind a practical excuse. Eddie nods silently, his serious expression revealing his reluctant agreement.

And so, with victory still fresh and emotions running high, the group sets off to share a meal that promises to be as full of flavor as it is of interesting dynamics.

The night has slipped into a soft twilight when everyone, now relieved of the tension of the game, finds themselves in Eddie's van. The space is filled with laughter and the sound of bottles clinking together. "Cheers!" the group shouts for the sixth time, raising their beers in the air in a toast that has become a ritual.

Eddie's van, with its worn seats, stickers, dirt, and windows displaying the world passing by at high speed, has become a temporary sanctuary of camaraderie. With each new "Cheers!", the barriers between The Sith Order and the Hellfire Club seem to dissolve a little more, erased by the alcohol and the shared joy. Or so it seems...

Eddie's van snakes along the road, a lonely path flanked by the silhouette of trees gently swaying under the starry sky. In the front seats, silence between Eddie and you is a marked contrast to the bustle that reigns in the back, where the rest of the group sings enthusiastically game anthems, interspersed with laughter and the sound of opening beers.

You, with crossed legs and a beer can resting in your hands, get lost in contemplation of the nature that unfolds before your eyes. The moonlight bathes the landscape, transforming each tree and bush into dancing shadows that play hide and seek with each turn of the road.

Eddie, with his attention focused on the road, drives with a slowness that seems to respect the shared silence. His profile stands out against the occasional glow of distant street lamps, and although you are together in the cabin, an abyss of unspoken words stretches between you.

"Hey..." Eddie's voice breaks the silence, a word hanging in the air that seems to wait for permission to continue. He does not look away from the road, as if fearing that a moment of distraction could reveal more than he intends.

You turn your head towards him, an eyebrow arched in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. It is strange, this attempt at conversation. Outside the game, words between you have been as scarce as leaves in winter. You have never crossed more than strategies and challenges, and now, this attempt at dialogue seems as out of place as a barbarian in a library.

The tension between you is palpable, a taut thread that is woven with each kilometer the van devours. What words will follow that "hey"? Will it be an attempt at a truce, or perhaps the prelude to another challenge? Time seems to stand still as you wait for Eddie to continue, and in that moment, the van is not just a moving vehicle, but a space where two rivals might, just maybe, begin to see each other as something more.

"No... no, nothing. Forget it..." he murmurs softly, not taking his eyes off the road, but now looking more tense, sighing.

You decide not to insist, but this time not averting your gaze from those long locks, but discreetly examining them for some kind of response.

Eddie's van glides to a smooth stop in front of a caravan. As he turns off the engine, Eddie's expression transforms. The seriousness that marked his face during the journey gives way to a genuine smile, an open invitation to continue the night in a space that is as much a part of him as the game they both love. "Come on, guys! The party continues at my place!" he exclaims with enthusiasm, his voice resonating with the promise of more laughter and memories to be created. "We can drink as much as we want, and if anyone's interested, there's weed too. My uncle works nights, so we have the place to ourselves."

Friends and friends respond with a chorus of approval, their stumbling steps and complicit smiles sealing the tacit agreement to extend the celebration. One by one, they enter the caravan, a cozy space illuminated by dim lights and adorned with mementos from trips and caps. A bit messy, but cozy.

You, with a mix of caution and curiosity, are the last to cross the threshold. Your eyes meet Eddie's, and for a moment, the outside world fades away. Eddie closes the door behind you, a simple gesture but loaded with meaning. You stand there, still, remembering the unfinished conversation, the words that Eddie left hanging in the air.

Feeling the weight of the night and the looks charged with unanswered questions, you decide to join the group that has settled in the caravan. You grab a few more beers, your hand brushing against the cold surface of the can, and sit at one end of the narrow sofa from where you can observe the scene. Eddie, on the other hand, seems different tonight. The usual arrogance that characterizes him has given way to an unusual stillness, almost reflective. Was defeat the cause of this change? Or was there something deeper behind his silence?

With each passing minute, glances between you meet like swords in a silent duel, full of questions that neither of you dares to voice aloud. After an hour of this game of looks, you feel the need to escape, if only for a moment, from the intensity of the atmosphere.

"Where is the bathroom?" you ask, your voice strangely formal in the relaxed atmosphere. Eddie points to a small hallway at the back, and you get up, navigating the space filled with laughter and conversations until you reach the bathroom.

Inside, you find yourself facing the mirror, your reflection returning an image of someone who seems to be on the border between two worlds. You wet the back of your neck, not wanting to ruin your makeup, and step out, feeling refreshed but still restless.

As you pass through the narrow exit of the bathroom, you collide with the partially open door of Eddie's room, and curiosity gets the better of you. You discreetly peek inside, your eyes scanning the space that is so intimately his. The room is adorned with posters of rock bands, metal, clothes everywhere, magazines scattered on the floor, and action figures of fantasy heroes, a mix of passions that reveal facets of Eddie that you had never considered. On the bed lies an open diary with scribbles and handwritten notes.

Eddie, with his carefree smile, leans against the doorframe, watching you with curiosity as you try to process the mess. "What are you doing here?" he repeats, his voice gentle but clearly amused by your confused expression. The scent of marijuana is evident, and his eyes, although red, gleam with a mischievous spark. He seems not to mind in the least your presence in his personal sanctuary. You feel like an intruder in an unknown world, every object in the room telling a story that only Eddie knows. However, he, with that calm bordering on indifference, gestures for you to enter. "Come, I'll show you my collection," he says casually, and suddenly, the place transforms. What was chaos before now seems like an art gallery, each hanging T-shirt, each vinyl, and each magazine clipping is a piece of his identity. He guides you through his space, narrating anecdotes of concerts and trips, his voice a thread weaving a tapestry of lived experiences.

The initial embarrassment fades away, replaced by fascination at discovering the depth of Eddie's personality. And as he shares his world with you, the messy room becomes a map of his personal universe, a place that, despite the disorder, now makes sense.

As you survey the room with your gaze, something catches your attention and takes your breath away: a proudly displayed B.C. Rich guitar hanging on the wall.

It is a red and shiny beauty, with its aggressive shapes and air of mystery, a piece that any metal lover would desire. Your heart beats with excitement, not only because of the surprise of finding such a treasure in Eddie's room, but because metal is your passion, one of the many things you have in common with Eddie without even knowing it, a detail he is unaware of.

He notices your excitement and, with a mischievous smile, takes down the guitar and hands it to you. "It's all yours, at least for now," he says with a wink. You hold it in your hands with reverence, feeling the weight of the wood and the coldness of the metal.

With shyness but moved by the emotion, you ask Eddie to play something. He shrugs, regretting the lack of an amplifier, but he is not discouraged. With a mischievous smile, he starts "playing" the guitar silently, mimicking the sounds with his mouth. It's a parody, but there is something about his attitude that invites you to play along.

"Come on, guess which song this is," he challenges you, as he moves his fingers in the air and imaginary sounds of a song fill the room. You concentrate, trying to follow the rhythm and melody that Eddie creates. The silent notes seem to come to life, and suddenly, you recognize it. It's 'Time Is Right' by Whitesnake.

Laughter fills the room as you guess it, and Eddie nods approvingly. "I knew you were one of mine, babe," he says, and in that moment, the guitar is not just an instrument, but a bridge between two souls who share a hidden passion for metal and many other things.

A blush creeps up your cheeks, an unexpected warmth that takes you by surprise. The word "babe" resonates in your ears, a term so casual and yet, loaded with an intimacy you did not expect. It feels as if you are inside the pages of one of those erotic books your mother used to read in secret, where the protagonists, initially at odds, end up wrapped in a story of love and rough sex.

Eddie's gaze has become more intense, his eyes no longer just reflecting the reddish glow of a pot smoker, but also a different glow, deeper, provoked by your presence. There is something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel like you are the only person in the world at that moment, but at the same time, as if he is undressing you.

You find yourself returning his gaze, unable to look away from his eyes. There is a connection, an unspoken understanding that seems to transcend words. And while a part of you wants to laugh at the situation, at how absurd it is to feel like a character in a pornographic novel, you cannot deny the electricity in the air, that spicy tension that hangs between the two of you.

Eddie takes a step towards you, his proximity overwhelming, and although he does not say anything more, he doesn't need to. Words are unnecessary when the looks speak for themselves. And in that instant, in that messy room that smells of marijuana and freedom, you understand that sometimes, real life can be as surprising and exciting as the stories hidden within the pages of a book.

After that moment, the room seems smaller, as if the walls had closed in to witness the silence shared between you. You decide to break the tension with a nervous smile and a change of subject. "Hey... what did you want to ask me before, you know, in the van?" you ask, stuttering slightly as you feel Eddie's scent filling your nostrils.

Eddie leaned against the threshold of the door, just inches away, watching your lips adorned with an intense crimson and your lined eyes attentively. "Ah, that..." he wondered, feigning forgetfulness. "I think I wanted to say something about Dungeons and Dragons, right?" he inquired with irony, biting his lip as he laughed and crossed his arms.

None of this compared to the fantasies you had with Eddie. Let's admit it, you had imagined countless similar scenarios, all related to the game and its protagonist, Eddie. You had wished for him to touch you in the same way he caresses his guitar. You wanted to be that fucking guitar.

"I don't think I want to talk about that right now..." you whispered, slowly moving closer to Eddie, who raised an eyebrow and smiled widely, catching your hint.

"Well then, if you don't want to listen to me, why don't you shut me up?" he whispered near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He grabbed your belt, holding your short denim skirt, forcing you to be pressed against him. "I said, why don't you shut me up..."

Eddie played dirty even outside of his character. He wanted you to take the initiative, perhaps to mock you or further feed his ego, but you wouldn't allow that to happen. With confidence, you ran your tongue over your lips and approached his neck, whispering, "I don't plan on silencing you. I enjoy listening to you and narrating each campaign..." This excited him, caressing your shoulder and getting closer, causing your breasts to press against him, eliciting a reaction in his groin. "Then, shut me up. I know you've wanted to since you met me," you whispered, trying to provoke him, with some success.

He responded by pushing you against the wall, trapping you between it and his body, placing his thigh between yours and gripping your waist tightly, feeling the coldness of his rings against your bare skin. "What I've wanted since I met you is to fuck you on the Harken map, so that your screams scare away the undead lurking there..." he muttered with a deep voice, softly kissing your collarbone, causing a sigh to escape your lips. With captivating slowness, Eddie guides his lips to yours, each movement deliberate and filled with anticipation. When they finally meet, the kiss is like an explosion of fire, burning and passionate. His lips sink into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless, and his tongue boldly slides in to explore every corner of your mouth from the very first moment.

As your lips entwine in a sensual dance, his hands find your breasts with a firmness that surprises and excites you at the same time. The pressure of his hands cupping your breasts sends a wave of pleasure through your body, making you involuntarily shudder at the intense and unfamiliar sensation. You never expected this reaction, but you find yourself completely captivated by the desire that Eddie awakens in you, leaving you craving more of his passionate touch.

Eddie suddenly stops, his fingers noticing the absence of the bra he expected to find. A mischievous spark shines in his eyes as he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and desire. With a naughty smile on his lips, he whispers in your ear in a seductive tone, "Wow, looks like the girl comes with nothing...," murmuring with a hoarse voice, his warm breath sending shivers down your naked skin. His comment, though bold, is imbued with an irresistible sensuality that makes you blush and feel even more drawn to him. It feels like you're in a scene taken straight from one of those forbidden novels your mother used to find in the library, but this time, you're the protagonist, enveloped in the heat of shared desire with Eddie.

With expert dexterity, Eddie deepens the kiss, intensifying each brush of his lips against yours. As his tongue explores yours with unrestrained passion, his thigh slides and exerts pressure between yours, finding its way under your denim skirt, lifting it almost completely, hitting just that sensitive spot that makes your whole body react instantly.

"Mhmmm..." an involuntary moan escapes your lips as you feel the perfectly placed pressure of his thigh against you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You feel the need to ride that leg. You were very wet at that moment, so the touch was making you even wetter.

He moves it with precision between yours, creating a delicious friction that awakens sensations that make you gasp against his lips. Each movement is calculated, designed to provoke maximum pleasure, as his thigh finds that sensitive spot on your body, sending waves of excitement through you.

"You've got me so hard..." with a throaty whisper, he makes you aware of the effect you have on him, sending a thrill of excitement down your spine. His warm breath against your lips only increases the intensity of the moment. You feel your heart pounding hard as you let yourself be carried away by the passion swirling around you. Then, with seductive skill, he leans slightly down, his strong hands gripping the bottom of your thighs to open you up and wrap around his waist. The change in position allows his bulge to press directly against your underwear, which is exposed by the previous lifting of your skirt. A wave of desire surges through your being as you feel his prominence brushing directly against your sensitive and swollen clit, sending sparks of pleasure that seem to electrify every fiber of your being.

The movements of his hips are precise and deliberate, each delicious brush torturous while engulfing you deeper into the abyss of pleasure. The sounds of your ragged breathing blend with the seductive whispers and soft moans escaping between hot kisses. You are completely at the mercy of the passion Eddie unleashes in you, lost in the whirlwind of overwhelming sensations that threaten to consume you completely.

The barely contained moan escapes your lips between kisses as you feel Eddie's gentle hip movement, a movement that sends you soaring to the heights of pleasure. Still with your thighs tightly wrapped around his hips, you give in to a wild and passionate kiss, with an intensity that defies any limit.

The kiss becomes a whirlwind of unabated passion, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as you let yourself be carried away by the overwhelming sensations. Amidst the heat of the moment, you feel Eddie release one of your legs, changing the dynamics of the position and making you feel his bulge even more. Now, in this new position, the contact with his clothed cock is even more evident, causing you to instinctively arch your hips towards him, seeking more contact, more friction. You feel his hands grip your buttocks firmly, aggressively pressing you against his jeans, as if he is eager to feel you even closer.

The brushes and hip movements become increasingly intense, a symphony of pleasure that seems to have no end. You are completely immersed in the moment.

"Mmhm... fuck..." Between moans escaping your lips, accompanied by the sensual movements of your hips, Eddie suddenly stops, only to turn off the bedroom light and then guides you, still with your body on top of his, to his disheveled bed. He places you on your back on the tousled sheets, and positions himself above you, burning desire reflected in his gaze as he begins to explore your neck with hot kisses and licks. Each touch of his tongue against your skin awakens an electric sensation that makes you tremble with pleasure. His expert hands play with your nipples from inside your top, squeezing and teasing them while his thighs continue to exert delicious pressure on your intimate area, making you gasp with each movement, holding onto his back.

Slowly, your rival moves down your body with controlled impatience, licking and kissing your abdomen eagerly before quickly lifting your top and leaving you exposed before him. His lips find your breasts, and he kisses and licks them with devotion, as if they are the most delicious thing he has ever tasted. His long hair sometimes gets tangled in his face, but when you start gently tugging on it for pleasure, he moves away, leaving behind an incredibly enticing scene that makes you arch your hips forward instinctively.

While Eddie continues to lavish attention on your breasts, his hands begin to explore above your underwear with his ring finger, stroking gently from top to bottom. "Do you like it like this?" he asks between kisses and licks, asking you with a husky voice if you're enjoying yourself, establishing an intimate and desire-filled dialogue that only increases the sexual tension between you. "Or is it better like this?" he increases the speed of his touch.

Your silence prompts Eddie to grab your chin firmly, his fingers exerting a dominant and sexual pressure as he forces you to look into his eyes. When you finally respond to his question with an intense gaze, he slowly releases you, going back down to give attention to your body. His lips find your panties, and he kisses and licks them eagerly, soaking them with his saliva mixed with your own excited wetness.

With precise and deliberate movements, Eddie slowly pulls down your panties, placing soft kisses on your inner thigh as he slides them down your legs. Once he has removed your panties, his eyes meet your exposed, naked, and wet pussy, and he can't help but feel his cock throbbing with an unprecedented intensity, eager to satisfy the burning desire between them. You feel incredibly exposed under his heated gaze, but Eddie sees you as a work of art, a sight that excites him to the limit. Without wasting time, Eddie gives you a generic lick to your wet pussy, spreading your lips with his fingers to access your exposed clit directly. An overwhelming moan escapes your lips at the wave of pleasure that courses through your body, but Eddie quickly covers your mouth, whispering that you can't moan to avoid being heard in the common area where the others are.

With a mischievous smile on his face, Eddie realizes that the loud music has concealed any sound that would have revealed their activities in the bedroom. With your mouth still covered, he delves into the task with renewed eagerness, licking and sucking your clit with an intensity that makes your body arch in response. Each suck and each lick sends waves of pleasure through you, taking you to the edge of ecstasy over and over again. Your hips move instinctively in response to the overwhelming pleasure, but Eddie firmly controls them, maintaining a rhythm that takes you closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. With an expert hand, he begins caressing your abdomen, slowly descending until reaching your clit, parting his mouth for a moment to touch it with his fingers before inserting two of them without any prior preparation.

The sudden stimulus causes your eyes to roll back, and your thighs tighten with force from the pleasure that overwhelms you, arching your back and moving your hips towards the direction of the long-haired person. In a short time, Eddie goes back to action, losing himself between your thighs as he continues moving his fingers with unwavering determination.

He continues like this for a few minutes, not stopping for a moment, until you feel that you're about to reach climax. You grab his hair with incredible strength, almost burying your fingers in its roots, urging him to continue, feeling like you're about to burst in his mouth. But just as you're on the edge of orgasm, he pulls away from you, leaving a thread of saliva mixed with your wetness as a separation between his mouth and your pussy, leaving you in a state of uncontrollable anticipation and desire.

Eddie, eager to satisfy his burning desire, hastily fumbles with his zipper and unleashes his erect cock, ready for action. Eddie's cock, although of average size, has a peculiarity that sets it apart: a curved shape that gives it a unique and distinctive appearance. Its thickness is notable, and the veins that run along its length add texture to its look. The skin that covers it has a pink tone, with a reddish hue indicating the excitement that engulfs it. A slightly glistening liquid adorns its tip. It is an image that reflects virility and desire, a promise of intense pleasure about to be unleashed.

"How does this look, huh?" he moves it, noticeably sensitive, gently rubbing it against your clit, giving you a mischievous look as if he's playing a game with you. Without warning, after lightly masturbating it, he quickly and decisively inserts it into you, completely surprising you and leaving you breathless. "Mhmmm..." he sighs deeply, as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, arching his head backward. From the very first second, he begins to thrust into you with a dizzying rhythm, penetrating you deeply over and over again. You are overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure that engulfs you, unable to articulate a single word as you completely surrender to the wild thrusts of the guy. Each thrust hits your insides with overpowering force, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Despite the initial discomfort from the lack of preparation, you find yourself immersed in a whirlwind of sensations that make you lose track of time and space.

You writhe under him, unable to hold back the moans that escape your lips as you completely surrender to the frenzied pleasure that consumes you. Although it hurts, you can't help but enjoy every thrust, every touch of his skin against yours ignites a burning fire inside you.

He grabs you by the neck with a firm but dominant hand, stopping any sound that could escape your lips. His warm breath brushes against your ear as he whispers with a husky and authoritative voice, "Shut up." The words, loaded with desire and determination, send a shiver down your spine, leaving you breathless and obedient to his command. You are completely surrendered to him, unable to do anything but obey his orders as you let yourself be carried away by the frenzied passion that burns between you. The orgasm that you had almost experienced less than a minute ago begins to resonate through your body again, but the intensity of Eddie's thrusts makes you feel like you're on the verge of a great climax. You are completely overwhelmed by the avalanche of sensations that envelop you, unable to resist the tide of pleasure that drags you into an endless abyss of ecstasy. Your increasingly intense and uncontrolled moans blend with the background music, creating a symphony of pleasure and ecstasy that fills the room. Eddie, releasing his hand from your neck, begins to hit your thigh and butt with a mixture of desire and unbridled passion. As he continues to thrust into you with force, his lascivious words fill the air, whispering in your ear with a deep and seductive voice.

He tells you how much he has wanted to fuck that pussy of yours, expressing his most intimate desires with an exciting crudeness that makes you shiver with pleasure. He calls you a slut with a tone of desire and adoration, celebrating your sexuality and the way you grip his cock with every thrust. Those words, charged with lust and desire, only increase the intensity of the moment, pushing you closer to climax with each word that comes out of his mouth.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, every thrust of Eddie sending waves of pleasure through your body. He perceives it too, thanks to the way your pussy grips his cock, and he lets out a guttural grunt of satisfaction. You're on the edge of the abyss, about to let the ecstasy completely envelop you, while Eddie's lascivious moans and words push you towards the most glorious climax you've ever experienced

You feel the ecstasy completely enveloping you, a overwhelming wave of pleasure that shakes you to your core. Your walls contract tightly around Eddie's cock, squeezing with an intensity that makes him moan with pleasure. "Damn, you're so tight..."

Your body trembles uncontrollably, your eyes rolling back in your head as a guttural groan escapes from your lips, louder and more heartbreaking than ever before.

However, before you can fully recover from your orgasm, Eddie aggressively grabs you by the throat again, his expression a wild mix of concentration, excitement, and a hint of anger. With notable abruptness, he continues fucking with a renewed ferocity, as if taking revenge for something, but this time he has absolute control. The sensation of being taken with such force awakens a wild fire inside you, a overflowing passion that mixes with pain and pleasure in a symphony of indescribable sensations. You are completely immersed in the erotic game between you and Eddie, each thrust taking you further into the abyss of shared desire.

Thegame is now tied, each one taking the lead at different moments. You feel Eddie moaning with an unusual intensity, sensing that he's about to reach climax. You want to warn him not to come inside, but your throat is blocked by Eddie's firm hand, keeping you from articulating any words. A slight shiver runs through his body when he perceives your attempt to communicate your desire, but it's too late.

With a few final shaky thrusts, Eddie gives in to the avalanche of pleasure, releasing his hot and trembling liquid inside you. You accept his release without reserve, watching Eddie's expression as he does so. His face shows an unusual vulnerability, with arched eyebrows and a lost look somewhere in the room. His slightly parted lips release his moans of pleasure, and his hands grip your hips tightly, as if clinging to you for support.

After Eddie releases his liquid inside you, he slowly retreats and lies down by your side. Both of you remain staring at the ceiling, and suddenly, a nervous and uncontrollable laughter overwhelms you. Eddie looks at you strangely and asks what's happening. Between laughs, you respond that you just imagined that all of this was one of his campaigns, a kind of joke or experiment designed to test your limits and reactions. The surprise on Eddie's face turns into a knowing smile when he realizes that you have disarmed the tension of the moment with your humorous comment. Both of you give in to laughter, releasing the accumulated tension and sharing a moment of complicity after the unrestrained passion you just experienced together. It's an unexpected and light ending to an intimate and passionate encounter.

[shelbgrey]

Ok but imagine this:

The allison and mark situation happens, so when derek finds out he tells reader (who is marks gf at the time) and they go to seattle amd fall in love and when allison and mark go there they see them being all in love.

This just spoke to me

Every rose has its thorn

Paring: Derek shepherd x Reader, Ex!Mark Sloan x Reader.

Summary: after Addison cheats on Derek and Mark cheats on the reader, both Derek and her go to Seattle. After they both got drunk and had sex one night the two relized the feeling they have for each other, by the time Mark and Addison come to Seattle Derek and the reader are dating and in love.

MasterList ML2

It sucks when your whole life gets turned upside down. A group of friends being torn apart because of an adulterous act. Derek had come home one night to see his wife Addison Montgomery in bed with his best friend Mark Sloan... Mark Sloan just happened to be the boyfriend of y/n L/n. Both Addison and Mark cheated on Derek and y/n. Ruining their relationships forever.

Y/n felt terrible, her heart ached. She felt like she should have seen it coming, she thought she should have seen the signals. She was mad and heartbroken when I found out Mark cheated on her with Addison. Most of all, she was angry at Addison for cheating on Derek. Derek was y/n’s best friend and seeing him that heartbroken hurt worse.

Derek hated both Addison and Mark. Not only did they ruin his relationship and marriage, but they also hurt y/n as well. Derek was so upset that he decided to leave town. He was tired of the lies from Addison and Mark. He just wanted to move on. He knew he couldn't if he stayed there. That's when he and y/n made the move to Seattle together.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

They both got drunk the first night they were in Seattle. Derek and her went to this small bar that was across the street from the hospital. Y/n never got drunk, she didn't like drinking but that's just how the night went. And too bad it took them being drunk to realize there was something between them.

Once they got drunk Derek started noticing things about her he had never noticed before. He started to see her in a new light. It made him see how beautiful she was. His feelings for her grew the more drunk they got.

“God I hate him” y/n rambled about Mark. “I wish I never fell in love with him”

Derek listened to everything y/n had to say. He hated that she loved a man like Mark. She deserved so much better. Derek couldn't wait to show her how much better he was for her…

“I hate her too” y/n sighed then looked over at Derek, there was just something there she hadn't noticed before. They always had some kinda connection, but always played it off as being best friend

She noticed his smile, his blue eyes. She always considered him a platonic soulmate, but maybe... Just maybe there was something more. Derek looked over at y/n. Her lips looked so soft. Her hair was perfectly curled. She stood out like a diamond, She was beautiful. Derek had never thought he would feel this way towards her. But as the night went on he realized there was something inside of him that was growing for her. He realized that he was falling in love with her. He had never felt this way before for anyone.

They both sat there wondering what would have happened if they chose each other instead of Mark and Addison. Derek always wondered what it would be like if y/n chose him over Mark. If y/n had chosen him, Addison would never have broken his heart. Would they have settled down with each other and had children? Had a family? The thoughts were racing through Derek's mind while he continued to stare at y/n. He wanted to make his move.

“Why are you looking at me like That?” she chuckled drunkenly.

Derek didn't realize that his lustful gaze was showing. He felt his cheeks burn red from embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “because your beautiful”

She blushed and looked away. “your just saying that”

Derek wanted her to know she was beautiful and he wasn't just saying that. He moved closer to her. “no. I mean it. You're so beautiful. I've never told you that before. But I'm gonna tell you now. You're gorgeous…”

She don't know what possessed her, but she placed her hand on his jaw and pressed her lips to his. Derek was absolutely shocked when y/n pressed her lips to his, that she had initiated it first. He pulled away, staring into her eyes. “Mark is stupid for letting something as amazing as you go” Derek whispered, he had been wanting this for so long. Derek immediately placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close to him. He kissed her with all the emotion and longing that had built up inside of him. He wanted her and he was going to get her.

Her lips parted and gently brushed her tongue against his lips, running her fingers through his hair

He kept kissing her deeply as he ran his hands up her torso, towards her neck. Derek couldn't wait to explore every inch of her.

Y/n slowly pulled away, resting her forehead against his as she tried to catch her breath and tried to focus my drunken mind. Now all logic was throwing away, she inched her face closer to his again, nudging her nose against his, hovering her lips over his. She couldn't get enough of the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Her eyes were fixed downward,watching his hands roam the outline of her body.

Derek's hands wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer to him. They were both losing reason and logic. They were caught up in the moment. Derek felt their warmth building between them and it was turning him on, He wanted more. His hands wandered up her back now and they slowly ran through her hair. The smell of lavender wafted up to his nose and he was lost in her.

Before things could get too far, y/n pressed her hands to his chest, stopping him. “you wanna get out of here?”

Derek quickly nodded. “yeah, let's get out of here”

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

As soon as they got back to the trailer, her lips were back on his, the kiss was messy and rushed. Y/n quickly pushed his jacket off his shoulders as he pushed her backwards towards the kitchen counter. She moaned against his lips, running her fingers through his hair. Getting them lost in his soft, perfect hair.

Derek was absolutely stunned by her boldness. This was the moment he had been longing for all this time. He was ecstatic that she was finally showing him this side of her. He threw his coat to the side with the rest of their stuff and began to kiss her with more passion. His hands roamed from her back down her body, giving her ass a squeeze. He was feeling her up the way he had wanted to since the moment he met her.

He couldn't help but want more. His hands squeezed her butt and his lips kept on exploring hers while he moved her back towards the bed. His body was pushed against hers and he leaned her back. There was no going back now. Y/n fell backwards on his bed, pulling him down with her. She moaned softly, tugging on his hair as his lips and the scruff on his jaw brushed against her neck.

Derek loved her reaction, the moans she let out were sending shivers down his spine. Her touch felt so good on him. Derek could feel her body pressing against his. He was enjoying her just as much as she was enjoying him. He wanted to kiss every inch of her. He finally had the chance to make her his and he wasn't going to let her slip away from him.

“D-derek” she moaned softly.

Derek loved how his name coming from her mouth sounded. Hearing her breathless voice gave him everything he needed to continue on with her. His hands ran up and down her body and his lips traveled across her neck and down to her shoulders. His mouth was finally exploring her body in ways that he had wished he could do for so long. His scruff was rough on her soft skin. His lips were gentle and tender. His touch was so hot and passionate. He loved the way she tasted and smelled, every inch of her was perfect to him.

They were running on nothing but alcohol, bottled up feelings, and passion. Their clothes were gone in seconds and they fell into each other's temptations.

--------(1st pov)--------

The next morning I woke up with a hangover, my head was pounding. I looked around and noticed I was in Derek's bed and not my own. I peaked under the covers and we were both naked. Derek was still asleep, I slowly sat up and grabbed his red shirt from last night and covered my bare chest with it. I sat there processing the whole night, I didn't feel regret or anything, but when something feels so good, how can it not be bad. “Derek, wake up” I said, nudging his naked shoulder.

Derek's eyes slowly opened and he sat up from the bed, stretching and yawning. He turned his head in my direction and he froze when he noticed his shirt covering my chest. His eyes grew wide, but there was a smirk on his face.

“So... Umm…” I looked down shyly. “we umm... Last night, didn't we?” I asked softly.

Derek laid on his back, smirking to himself. “yeah… Yeah we did”

I moved my messy hair out of my face. “we're no better than them,” I mumbled, thinking about Addison and Mark. They slept together, they were in the wrong, but what about us?.

Even if I was right or wrong, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief from last night. The bond we formed last night was undeniable. I had wanted him for so long and we finally had our chance. Mark and Addison may have won the battle, but there was this feeling that we were gonna win the war.

I fell backwards in the bed, laying on my back next to him. I rubbed my face processing everything. I didn't regret it one bit, but I wished it happened at a different time. “God... I just had sex with a married man” I mumbled, covering my face.

He rolled over on his side, facing me. He kissed my shoulder with a smirk on his face. “Separated... I'm not with Addison anymore” he kissed my cheek then looked at me with those pretty blue eyes. “and I gotta say... That was the best sex I ever had…”

I uncovered my face and turned my head towards him, smiling. “Dito”

Derek smiled. “Do you... umm... regret what we did last night?”

“No... Do you?” I asked softly.

Derek shook his head in a no. “I wanted to do that for so long.” he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine for a soft loving kiss.

Derek pulled me close, kissing me deeply with no regrets between us. My heart fluttered as he kissed me passionately. This feeling was so new to me, but definitely wanted. His hands grabbed my hips and pulled me against his chest. The scruff on his jaw hitting my chin and cheeks. I smirked against his lips and placed my hand on his jaw, feeling the scruff that peppered his jaw. I pulled away from the kiss and rested my forehead against his, I rubbed my thumb over his cheek gently. “like this...” I mumbled, referring to his scruff. When he was with Addison he was always clean shaved. She liked it that way, I didn't matter if he wanted to let it grow.

“You like it?” his eyebrow raised with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah... It's sexy”

When he was with Addison he definitely shaved daily. But he was trying keep his scruff now. He liked the way he looked with a little bit of scruff now. He kissed my cheek slowly. “I'll keep it for you then” he smirked again.

I smiled, pulling him down for another kiss and slowly ran my fingers through his hair. I pulled away from the kiss gently. “we need to get ready for work...”

“yeah... First day” Derek chuckled and kissed my nose before climed out of bed.

~~~~~~~~(few months later)~~~~~~~~

I had to admit Seattle was just a better place to be than new York. No one knew us except Richard Webber, he still didn't know about our relationship and that was okay. As the months went by it was made clear that our firsr night here ment everything. We just fit too well together, even if that sounded cheesy. Being beat friends in the past nothing much changed except we were now kissing, cuddling, and having quickies in the shower.

Mark had tried to call me numerous of times, I hadn't awnsered once. I wasn't ready to talk to him, but I think I was ready to forgive him. I had moved on and was happy with Derek, so there was no reason to hate him. Addison is a different story. I couldn't believe it when she showed up in Seattle.

“Addison... what are you doing here?” Derek asked.

I couldn’t even looked Addison in the eyes. I kept my head down and my anger bottled up.

“you would have know if you had botherd to return any one of my phone calls” Addison turned to me. “or awnsered the phone when Mark calls”

“I have nothing to say to him” I said bitterly.

“of course not, your too busy screwing my husband” Addison shot back.

“that's rich” I snapped back. “you were too busy screwing my boyfriend”

Derek grabed my arm, rubbing it affectionately. He stared at Addison with betrayal and anger. “is there something you need? What are you doing here?”

Addison had a smug look on her face as she looked Derek up and down. I couldn't help but feel territorial, but at the same time insucre. I always thought Addison was prettier than me.

“your hair is different” Addison said, dodging the subject. She went to reach for his hair, but I pushed her hand away. Derek smirked slightly, but it disappeared and he turned back to Addison. “a lot of things are different”

“it's longer” Addison continued. “what's your problem?” I asked annoyed.

“what are you doing here?” Derek asked again.

“Relax, guys, I'm here for work. I'm helming the T.T.T.S. case you guys admitted last week. And after Richard's briefing...” Addison said, rolling her eyes.

“bullshit” I said. I didn't believe a word that came out of this woman's mouth. “I swear to God, if you brought Mark with you...”

“it's cute...” Addison started sarcastically. “That whole wide-eyed "ooh, he's a brain surgeon" act you have going on... It's sweet. Which is what you were going for, right? The anti-Addison”

I shook my head, staring daggers into her. She smirked like she had the upper hand now. I didn't know it was possible to love and hate someone so much. Addison was always like an older sister to me, I looked up to her and wanted to be like her. Not now she betrayed me... But in a sences I betrayed her too.

“let's go” Derek said in a hard tone and grabed my hand. I looked into Addison's eyes and showed her nothing but hurt as Derek pulled me away.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

“why is she back!?” I yelled at Derek.

“I don't know! Why are you yelling at me?” Derek snapped back as he paced back and forth in his trailer. I don't know why we were taking this out on each other, it hurt we resorted to this.

“I don't know!” I sighed and sat down on his bed, rubbing my face in frustration. I think we weren't yelling at each other, just yelling in general. We were both frustrated.

Derek sighed and gave me a gental expression. “you know her coming here means nothing, right?”

I looked up at him, I trusted him but I just had to ask. “nothing between us changes?”

His blue eyes stared into my soul. I loved his eyes, I could just drown in them. “nothing changes... Hell, I'll devorce her”

He held his hand out to me and I took it. “I promise” he said softly and knelt infront me where I was setting so we were eye level. “we're not gonna lose each other... Not again”

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Then Mark came back...

Unlike when Addison showed up, I was just hurt to see him. I hadn't thought about him since me and derek started dating, but when I saw his face all that hurt and betrayal came rushing back.

The first time he visited Seattle he was on the ground and thanks to Derek I was the one that had to stich him him up. Richard sent me and Mark to the ER and Richard was chewing Derek out for the punch. That's when Richard found out about Addison and Mark's affair.

“you look amazing” Mark said as I got out the supplies to stich up his cheek. I ignored him as I tried to keep my anger and disappointment bottled up.

I cleared my throat and placed a towel on his shoulder and tried to get a decent angle to stich his cheek.

“here” Mark mumbled and to my dismay he pulled me in between by my hips so I could be closer. “thats better” he smirked.

I sighed and dropped the tweezers. “you think your funny?”

“I think I'm adorable” he smirked. I rolled my eyes and stiched up the gash. I sighed using the technique mark taught me long ago.

“I missed you... I really do” he said as I placed a bandaged on. I tried to stay silent but Mark wasn't having it. “will you please say something?”

I slammed the tweezers on the tray with a loud clink then turned towrds Mark. “What do you want me to say? I don't want you here and and sure as hell don't want Addison here”

Mark looked down staying silent. “I'm sorry”

I rolled my eyes tired of his sorrys. I did miss him and hell I unfortunately still cared for him, but every time I looked at him all I can think of is him in bed with Addison.

I gulped and looked at him as I felt the tears form. “I'll see ya around Mark”

“bye...” he said barly above a whisper.

--------(3rd pov)--------

Mark and Addison from a far, confused on what they were seeing. They just couldn't understand how fast y/n and derek fell for each other. Addison scolded herself for not seeing the signs earlier, but when she looks back she could see the way Derek looked at y/n.

“Derek never looked at me the way he looks at here” Addison said in a monotone voice.

Mark crossed his arms, staring at the new couple. He feeling so many different things it confused him. He wanted to fix his friendship with Derek, but everytime he saw his arm around y/n he just wanted to break it. Then on the other hand his heart broke seeing y/n smile and derek and not him, but he loved her enough to feel some sorta relief he didn't totally break her and she was happy.

“y/n looked at me like that... Every day we we're together” Mark said. “and I screwed it up big time”

Addison glanced at him, part of her felt fear Mark regreted being with her. It ment she lost two men she loved. She felt selfish for feeling like that, not only did she lose a husband she lost her closest female friend. This whole situation was a mess and she knew it.

Mark glanced at her, his blue eyes showing nothing but pain. “if I could turn back time I would in a heart beat”

Mark still loved her, but he loved her enough to let her go. At least he knew he could trust Derek not to hurt her. “let go of your pride addie, if you think Derek will leave n/n your crazy”

Addison raised an eyebrow at him, like she thought he was some kinda hypocrite. “well, y/n isn't leaving Derek for you”

“yeah... And I just need to learn to deal with that” Mark sighed, giving y/n and derek one last glance before leaving.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Mask

Horror masterlist - Masterlist - Misc. masterlist

RZ Michael Myers x female nurse reader

Part 1

Words: 1248

Warnings: very mild and short descriptions about violence

Summary: you seem to be the only person who's able to communicate with Michael and so you continued to take care of him on Dr Loomis' orders

Reader: short female reader in mind, but no specific descriptions are used

The following days and weeks passed with the same routine. You were overseeing Michael in the observation room until Doctor Loomis would arrive for the therapy session. Occasionally, the doctor would even request that you stay, hoping that Michael would open up in your presence. He did, although the doctor was too engrossed in his own theories to notice it each time, but you saw all of it. The little amused huffs behind the mask whenever you challenged him with a question, the silent chuckles and crinkling eyes whenever you told one of your jokes and the way his breath hitched as soon as your hand found his in an innocent touch. All the while a frustrated Loomis sat across the table, huffing as he scribbled down in his notebook, so much to write and yet no wisdom to share, only speculations.

The conflict within Michael kept raging on, torn between his urge to kill and the growing fondness for you. You were a thorn in his flesh of bloody sin and yet, you soothed his mind and your touch left a sense of longing burning beneath his skin. Your fingertips brushing the side of his hand as he tried to help you make your own mask felt electrifying, a spark straight to his rotten heart, nourishing its dying flesh. His heart raced, threatening to burst out of his chest while his breaths grew heavier. As his eyes finally locked on yours, the entire world around him froze, time trickling away while you observed him, your perfect lips slightly parted, realising what was happening to him, what you did to him.

"Well mine doesn't look as good as yours but I still have time to learn from the master", you giggled, holding your mask up for him to see, "shall we try them on?"

A faint smile spread across his lips, well hidden beneath the painted paper on his face. The way you giggled so carelessly in his presence, the graceful movements of your hands, making the piece of paper-mâché seemingly dance in the air, Michael could feel a knot forming in his stomach. He had never felt like this, not even prior to that one fateful Halloween. Although his heart suddenly jumped as he observed your cheerful expression falter, replaced by a hint of fear. Would this be the inevitable moment of truth where you'd finally realise how ugly he truly was on the outside and deep within?

"I...I should turn around", you murmured, "sorry I forgot for a moment that you don't like showing your face."

His fingers moved up to grasp your chin, preventing you from turning your head away. Observing your initial confusion, he handed you his new mask and slowly removed his old one. A hushed gasp slipped passed your lips, eyes wide in shock as you gazed upon Michael's real face for the very first time. He let out a rasped groan as your fingertips graced his forehead, brushing the long blonde strands of hair away to tuck them behind his ears. His handsome face bore a rough charm, tiny dark stubble adorned his broad jaw and chin, his lips trembling ever so slightly while his icy blue eyes locked onto yours. He noticed your flustered expression and the heat rising to your cheeks as you leaned closer and put the mask over his head, but you didn't pull it down immediately.

"That...uhm...is a very beautiful face", you whispered, "thanks for allowing me to see it...for the trust."

You pulled the mask down and right before it covered his face entirely, you saw his lips curl into a wide smile. As you were about to put your own mask on, the metal door swung open and Loomis entered with Cruz following closely behind.

"Thank you nurse", the doctor called out while Cruz simply waved at you with a smile, "you can take your leave now. Mister Cruz will take care of Michael in the coming days and I will commence the daily therapy session now. Happy Halloween!"

You sensed Michael tense beside you, the breaths under the mask becoming more erratic with each second of silence passing. Your hand found his, squeezing it gently while his gaze met yours at the subtle reassuring touch.

"I'll take a week off from this evening on, but", you spoke calmly, sensing his rising panic, "I know tomorrow is Halloween, soooo....after discussing it with Dr Loomis, I got the approval to drop by and visit you, in my Halloween costume. And of course I gonna bring you some candy."

You offered a gentle smile while your hand remained on his but it wasn't nearly enough to quell the anger burning within Michael in this moment. He had trusted you, opened himself up to you, and now, like everyone else in his life, you were about to leave him again. Leaving him all to himself and his darkness again? The thought of being abandoned consumed him, causing his teeth to grind and his once warm eyes turned cold and lifeless. His hand instinctively moved towards your neck while his mind exploded with images of how he could simply smash you head first into the table. The cracking sound of your skull, the crimson trickling from every wound, pooling around your face in perfect contrast against the dark grey metal underneath, all mingling with the sweet melody of your panicked last breaths, realising your life was drained away by his hand, the very one you're still holding onto right now.

"If you write me down your favourite candy, I gonna try and get that one for us. Promised!"

Your soft voice snapped him out of his murderous trail of thoughts back into reality and he felt his hold on your neck loosen, gently caressing your skin before retreating. Steel blue eyes blinked at you a few times, the love and gentleness slowly returning to them and with a loud sigh Michael leaned forward, hastily scribbling a few words on a piece of paper before sliding it towards you. The chuckle escaping your lips went straight through his chest, it being the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, forgetting all the pain and doubt it had caused within him just a few seconds ago.

"Oh those two are my favourites too", your finger tapped on the paper, "you have an excellent taste in sweets, Mr Myers."

He rolled his eyes in response but you could almost see the smirk peeking out from behind the paper-mâché.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Make sure to wear your scariest mask", you winked at him before heading towards the doors.

Before the door fell shut, Loomis slipped through it, calling out for you. It amazed you how this man knew so much and so little at the same time about his most famous patient. He listened, analysed and yet, he never seemed to truly see or hear Michael. Maintaining a friendly and professional expression on your face, you continued to listen as he provided additional instructions for your visit the following day.

As you laid in bed that night, a stash of candy and sweets stowed away and ready, excitement bubbled in your stomach while your restless mind got lost in the anticipation of your first private meeting with Michael, outside your nurse outfit and the obligation to watch over him. It would simply be you and him having as much Halloween fun as a place like Smith's Grove would allow.

Part 3 - Home (18+)

[wholoveseggs]

hi! I see you have a bunch of requests so I’m sorry to request but do you think you could write an Elijah angst with fluff ? Like y/n is upset because she thinks that elijah likes Hayley but he’s actually in love with her and has been for centuries but has always been too scared to tell her.

Always

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Upon your unexpected appearance at the compound, centuries after being presumed dead, Elijah has to grapple with feelings he long buried and the consequences that come with it.

~♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) & @vervain3 ♡♡ - I combined all three ideas and made a jealousy triangle {square? circle? idk}~

3k words - Warnings: a little smutty right at the end, drama, angst, jealousy... vaguely refer to events from season 2 & 3... Klaus interfering & loving all the drama (Regina George energy)

It was a rare thing for Elijah Mikaelson to fall in love, but when he did, it was forever. In his one thousand years of living he could count on one hand the number of times his heart had truly belonged to someone else and he could recall, with exact detail, everything about them.

There was Tatia, the first woman he ever fell for, and then there was Katerina, or Katherine, who was a thorn in his side and a constant source of regret.Then Celeste came into the picture, a beautiful and powerful witch, her loss and betrayal still a bitter taste in his mouth.

And then there was you, the brightest light in his dark life. Your face still burned brightly in his memories and your name still danced on his tongue like the sweetest melody. You did things to him that no one else could, dissolving his burdens with just a smile.

You had captured his heart with just one look and he had been yours, mind, body, and soul. He was so in love with you, it hurt.

So when you died, he was shattered, torn apart and left to deal with the pain alone. He would see your face everywhere, haunting him and reminding him of his failure to protect the one he loved. To never be able to tell you how he felt was the most painful thing of all.

Centuries had passed since he lost you, his grief now a dull ache in his heart, but nothing had ever truly made the pain go away.

Hayley's presence in his life mended the broken pieces somewhat, but they were still damaged. His feelings for the hybrid would never be enough to erase the ghost of his love for you.

He accepted being content with what he had, knowing he didn't deserve anything more. That he was lucky to have met his soul mate, even if you were never truly his. To know that true love was real, if not fleeting.

So when he saw you, sitting on the sofa in the courtyard, laughing and chatting with Klaus, his heart stopped. He wondered if he was imagining you again, if his mind was playing a cruel trick on him.

But you turned, your gaze meeting his and the world stopped. He felt his knees grow weak, and his heart race.

You were real, you were here, you were alive.

And you looked just as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

But there was a bit of a problem, he was with Hayley now. You were back and he didn't know how to feel about that.

"Elijah, how long has it been? You look well." You greet him with a smile, pulling him in for a hug.

Elijah hesitated before wrapping his arms around you, inhaling the scent that he had thought he'd never experience again. He couldn't help but hold you a little tighter, afraid that if he let you go, you'd disappear.

"Y/N," he whispers softly.

You pull back, noticing the way his eyes seem to burn brighter, full of emotions you couldn't read.

"How are you? I haven't seen you since..." you trail off.

"Since you died," he finishes, his eyes looking at you curiously.

"Since you left me behind," you corrected him.

Elijah frowned, not understanding what you were talking about. The night Mikael returned, you were killed and your body burnt, at least, that's what Klaus had told him.

"Klaus said you were killed, we didn't have time to retrieve your body."

You shake your head. "That wasn't me, he was mistaken."

"So where were you?" he asked, still unable to believe you were really here.

"Here and there," you said with a smile, none of that mattered now.

You always had a soft spot for Elijah, when you first met him and his family, you found him to be so stoic and melancholic. You delighted in making him laugh, his smile lighting up his whole face and giving him the air of youth and carefreeness that you knew he had buried deep within him.

Nothing ever happened between you, he tended to fall for more serious types. But you never stopped loving him, he was always going to be the one you couldn't forget.

"You're as bad as Niklaus," Elijah said, chuckling lightly.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you grinned.

You were interrupted by a beautiful brunette with stunning hazel eyes, she walked up and placed her hand on Elijah's shoulder, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Y/N, this is Hayley," Elijah introduced, his hand going to rest on her back.

Of course, you thought. She was exactly his type, beautiful and fierce.

You gave her a small smile, shaking her hand.

"How do you know Elijah?" she asked, curious.

"We met a very long time ago, in another place," you answered, giving Elijah a sidelong glance. "In another life."

Hayley looked between the two of you, sensing there was more to your relationship than you were letting on. She wasn't going to let you anywhere near what was hers.

"What brings you here? To New Orleans, I mean?"

"I heard the original family has settled here and I wanted to catch up with old friends," you replied. "But mostly, I'm just passing through,"

Hayley frowned, "old friends," she repeated, her hand tightening around Elijah's shoulder.

She had only just met you, but already, she knew she didn't like you. You seemed to have a permanent smirk on your face that reminded her of Klaus, and that made her distrust you instantly. And the way Elijah was looking at you made her feel uneasy, she had never seen him look so...happy.

"Oh," Elijah's expression faltered, his disappointment barely noticeable. "You're leaving?"

"Well, I don't want to overstay my welcome," you joked, your eyes flickering to Hayley's.

"How about you join us tonight for dinner," Klaus said, walking up and joining the group, he always knew exactly how to make an awkward situation worse. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

You gave him a small smile. "Sure,"

When you arrived for dinner, you were surprised by the amount of people Klaus had invited. It was a bit of a relief, it would mean that you didn't have to be alone with Elijah and Hayley.

Klaus stood at the head of the table, making introductions, there were a number of vampires and werewolves present, including a werewolf alpha named Jackson and a handsome vampire named Marcel.

You greeted them all politely, before taking a seat next to Marcel.

"Y/N, this is my dear friend Marcellus," Klaus greeted, "you two have a remarkable amount in common."

Marcel smiles, "hello, beautiful."

"Hi," you smiled back, your eyes lingering on his, he had a killer smile and a charm to him that was difficult to resist.

You were glad to have someone to talk to, you could tell Marcel had a great sense of humor and you enjoyed his company. You also found yourself attracted to him, he was definitely your type.

"So, how do you know the Mikaelsons?" Marcel asked, a little confused. "I didn't think they had any friends outside their family,"

"Klaus turned me centuries ago, when they were hiding out in my town." You explain, taking a sip of your wine. "They needed allies, so he made some of us into vampires."

"Ahh, been there, done that." Marcel replied with a smile, leaning in closer, his hand brushing against yours.

Elijah watched from the other end of the table, his eyes flickering between the pair, his stomach knotting with every touch and look exchanged between you.

You didn't miss his glances, or his frowns, and you wondered what his problem was. He had his gorgeous girlfriend by his side, why was he looking at you this way?

Klaus delighted in the growing jealousy he could see bubbling up inside Elijah. He knew his brother had always loved you, but never made a move. And now, he was paying for it.

Klaus watched as you flirted with Marcel, enjoying the sight of Elijah growing increasingly frustrated.

"They seem cozy, how cute," he mused, his eyes gleaming.

"Yes, it appears that way," Elijah replied, his jaw clenching.

Hayley smiled at you and Marcel, "they’d make a good couple,"

"Would they?" Elijah asked, a hint of irritation in his tone.

Hayley didn't notice, she was too busy watching the way your eyes lingered on each other's and the way Marcel leaned in close and whispered in your ear, making you laugh.

Elijah didn't miss the spark in your eyes as you spoke with Marcel, the way your face lit up and the way his fingers traced patterns on your skin.

He wanted to rip his heart out.

He felt himself growing angrier by the minute, his hands clenched and his jaw tight. He could barely keep up with the conversation, his attention focused on you, his jealousy eating away at him.

There you were, so close, your laughter filling the air, the sound he had been longing to hear for so long. And he was stuck sitting across from you, watching you get closer to another man.

"Jackson, tell me about this ritual you mentioned earlier," Klaus said, interrupting Elijah's thoughts.

"Well," Jackson began, looking between Hayley and Elijah awkwardly. "It could possibly give the pack hybrid-like abilities,"

Hayley smiled, "that's exactly what we need Klaus, an army to protect our child."

"What would this ritual involve?" Elijah asked, trying to distract himself from the sound of your laughter.

"A marriage," Jackson answered. "Between myself and Hayley,"

"A marriage?" Hayley asked, confused. "I thought this was just a ritual?"

Jackson shook his head, "in order for it to work, we need to marry,"

Hayley frowned, looking between Jackson and Elijah. She wasn't sure how she felt about the idea of marrying anyone but Elijah, but she had no choice, she would do anything for her daughter.

"It would give us the power and numbers we need," Klaus agreed. "We could protect Hope from anyone who wished her harm."

Elijah felt strangely relieved, despite knowing how selfish it was. He thought he loved Hayley, that her marrying another would bother him, but he was more bothered by the way Marcel was touching you, he realized that his feelings for Hayley weren't enough.

He still loved you, and he always would.

"I guess that's it then," Hayley sighed, glancing over at Elijah, wondering what was going through his mind.

"We can discuss it further tomorrow, but I'm sure it's something that would benefit us all," Elijah said, his voice steady.

Hayley nodded, her heart breaking at his indifference. She didn't understand, she had hoped he would argue against it, at least a little bit, but it appeared she was mistaken.

She glanced over at you, seeing the way you kept looking at Elijah. She realized that your presence had shifted something in her relationship, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of anger towards you.

After dinner, everyone had a drink or two and mingled. Elijah and Hayley found a private corner to chat about her wedding, their conversation awkward and strained, filled with hidden meanings.

"Are you alright?" Elijah asked, noticing the pain in her eyes.

"Yeah, fine." Hayley nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "I just thought you would... I dunno... Protest the wedding more."

Elijah hesitated, "we need to do whatever we can to bring home Hope." He spoke carefully, "you know that I... care for you."

Hayley looked away, trying to hide the hurt on her face. He 'cared for' her, but it wasn't enough.

"You care for me," she repeated, her voice lacking the inflection of surprise. "But you don't love me, do you?"

She looked up at him, their eyes locking. He looked at her sadly, the regret in his eyes telling her all she needed to know.

"You'll always have a place in my heart, Hayley," he said. "It's just-"

"She's back," she finished, nodding sadly. "You've always loved her."

Elijah didn't respond, instead he simply stared at her, their eyes full of unspoken words, unshed tears and the promise of a life together that would never be.

Hayley took a breath, blinking back her tears.

"I should probably go and join the others," she said, turning to walk away. "I'll… see you around,”

Elijah released a breath, running his hand through his hair. He stood there, debating whether he should go over and talk to you.

Hayley could tell from the way you'd been looking at him that your feelings for him were the same. She was hurt, and a little drunk, and a more than a bit angry.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw Marcel whisper something in your ear, his hand resting on your shoulder. You seemed to have every man here wrapped around your finger instantly, even Elijah.

Hayley walked up to you, her eyes flashing. "It's incredible how you just return out of the blue and have every man here panting at your heels."

You raised an eyebrow, not expecting the hostility.

"I'm sorry, have I offended you in some way?" You asked, giving her a confused look.

"No, you're just a slut who can't seem to keep her hands off the men around here." Hayley snapped.

You looked at her in surprise, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Marcel and I were only flirting," you replied.

Hayley glared at you, her fists clenching. You could see the rage burning in her eyes, and you were tempted to push her further, just to see how far you could take it. But before you could, Jackson was by her side, a worried look on his face.

"Come on Hayley, let's get some air," he said, pulling her away from you.

Marcel watched as they left, his arm draped around your shoulders.

"What was that about?" He asked, glancing down at you.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you shrugged, your gaze drifting over to Elijah.

He was looking at you as well, his eyes wide and searching, as if he couldn't believe you were really there.

"I'm sorry Marcel, I think I'm going to turn in early," you said, smiling apologetically. "It's been a long day."

Marcel nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Call me sometime, if you're interested," he said with a grin, winking playfully.

"Sure, thanks." You nodded, returning his smile.

You made your way over to Klaus, thanking him for the dinner, and bidding him a goodnight. You then approached Elijah, a small smile on your face, your heart pounding.

"It's wonderful to see you, after all these years," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

"You too, Elijah." You said, giving him a genuine smile.

"I want to show you something, before you go." He said, extending his hand out to you.

You hesitated, glancing down at his hand, a part of you afraid to get your hopes up, to believe that he saw you as more than a friend. But when your eyes met his, you could see something in his gaze, and it gave you the confidence you needed to take his hand.

"Lead the way,"

Elijah gave you a small smile, leading you to his study. He walked over to his desk, searching around until he pulled out a wooden box.

He placed it on the desk, opening the lid. Inside was a pendant necklace, a gold chain with a small emerald medallion hanging from it, with your initials engraved.

You hadn't seen it in centuries, not since the night you parted, and the sight of it brought a flood of emotions crashing down.

"You kept it," you whispered, your eyes stinging with tears.

"Of course," Elijah replied, his voice quiet, a smile playing on his lips. "It was yours, it belongs with you."

Your fingers gently grazed the pendant, the cool metal a reminder of your human life. It was given to you by your mother, the only thing you had left of her. You had treasured it, and when it broke, Elijah had offered to get it fixed for you.

But when Mikael arrived and you were separated, you thought it was forever lost.

"You got it fixed," you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

"Yes, it was important to you." Elijah replied, his voice soft, a smile on his face.

"After all these years, after everything, why did you keep it?" You asked, confused.

"It was all I had left of you," he replied, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed, unable to speak, your throat tight and your chest aching. You'd never imagined he'd held onto such a keepsake, a reminder of you he held onto for centuries after he believed you to be dead.

Elijah gently picked up the necklace, placing it around your neck, his hands lingering.

"I'm happy to return this to you," he whispered. "It's where it belongs."

Your hand went up to the pendant, tears streaming down your cheeks. You turned to face him and his hand cupped your cheek, wiping away the tears. You leaned into his touch, his skin warm against yours.

He stared into your eyes, his expression filled with emotion, his heart beating erratically.

"I want you to know that I..." his voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words. "That I have never forgotten you."

"I never forgot you either," you whispered, your gaze dropping to his lips, your own parting.

He leaned in slowly, closing the gap between you. His lips were soft, gentle, as they pressed against yours, you both sighed, melting into each other. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

He moved you back until you hit the desk, his lips moving down your neck, nipping and kissing, causing you to moan. Your hands grasped at his clothes, tugging him closer, desperate for him.

Elijah lifted you onto the desk, pushing his body between your legs, his hardness pressed against you. His mouth was on yours again, his hands roaming your body, exploring every inch.

"Wait, wait," you panted, breaking the kiss. "You are with Hayley,"

Elijah paused, his eyes locked with yours, his chest heaving. "Not anymore."

You stared at him, confusion and desire muddling your thoughts.

"What?" You managed, still struggling to catch your breath.

"We broke up, tonight," he explained, his voice husky, his hands caressing your thighs.

You shook your head, trying to clear your mind, but his closeness and his hands on your body were making it impossible to think. He kissed you again, his lips hungry, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you.

You moaned, arching into him, your hands roaming his body, pulling him closer. His hands tugged at your dress, hiking it up your thighs, moving your panties to the side.

"I want you," he muttered, his eyes dark, filled with lust.

You whispered his name as his fingers slipped inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit. His mouth was on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, nibbling softly. You gasped, your hands grasping at his belt, trying desperately to undo it.

He pushed his pants and underwear down, his cock springing free. He positioned himself between your legs, easing into you slowly. Your eyes locked, both of you filled with an intense, desperate need for the other.

Elijah groaned, gripping the desk, his knuckles turning white, as he began thrusting into you, slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your moans filling the room.

His movements became faster, more frantic, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you. You felt yourself getting closer, your muscles tightening, your breathing becoming shallow.

His lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your thighs, holding them open. The desperate way he was fucking you was a testament to the feelings he held for you, and it only fueled your desire for him.

You moaned into his mouth as you came, your orgasm hitting you hard, making your body tremble, your muscles spasming.

Elijah buried his face in your neck, sinking his fangs into you as he let go, his body shuddering. You held him, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax.

"I've always loved you," he whispered.

"I love you, too." You replied, kissing his temple.

He kissed you again, his hands cradling your face. He smiled at you, his eyes filled with warmth, and a deep love that was reserved only for you.

It felt like coming home.

♡♡ Hayley is jealous of you -> you are jealous of Hayley -> Elijah is jealous of Marcel... & Marcel is too cool to care. ♡♡ ~What kind of jealously geometry is this??? I'm a writer not a mathematician lol~

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

When Darkness Falls

Orestes x afab!Monster!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 16: Public Sex

Summary: After Orestes and his men are captured by a strange group, the punishment seems unusual.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always! I don't know how my mind turned 'public sex' into this.

Warnings: Monster!Reader (werewolf-y), swearing, p in v sex, injuries, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1850

Orestes winced as the guard pressed against his injured shoulder and forced him to his knees. His wrists were bound behind his back, so tightly that the rope was cutting off the blood supply to his fingers.

“You are accused of trespassing on our lands. From taking fruit from the Hylopius tree.” The man bellowed, he was dressed in dark blue robes finely woven. Seven others, presumably nobles and the jury, stood to his side. 

“My men and I were lost, we took shelter from the storm. We did not know these were your lands,” Orestes tries to keep his tone strong and even, to keep his chin high as he answers. “We-”

“Ignorance is not an excuse.” He snarls. “You pillage, and take. But you are far from your Rome now. Your crimes will not go unpunished.” 

Orestes breathes deeply. “Please, my men, they are innocent in this. I will take the punishment, if you let-”

“You are in no position to demand anything.”

“I am not demanding, I am-” The leader gestures with his hand and Orestes winces in pain as the guard presses against the wound in his temple.

“Your men fought back against our soldiers, they are as guilty as you are. I will cast punishment on you all.” He grins wickedly. “The Lycan’s Pit.” 

The noblemen laugh.

Orestes is dragged to his feet and pulled from the room, “What, what is that? What do you speak of?” 

The guards do not answer as he is taken into a large hall beautifully decorated in fine mosaic. The images of torn bodies and blood, of huge creatures with red eyes shaped like the beasts of childhood nightmares painstakingly crafted. There are rows of seats carved into the walls, the layout reminiscent of a small scale colosseum, able to hold around 50 people.

In the centre of the room was a circle pit that seemed to travel into the depths of the earth itself. 

“They will feast on your flesh.” The leader laughs. 

“Wait-” A loud gong of a bell echoes out, cutting off his words as he is thrown into the middle of the room next to the pit, he grunts, managing to get to his knees as the guards bring out thorned branches layered with silver chains. They arrange them around the outside of the floor, a barrier from the seats and Orestes. 

“What is that?” He asks.

The nobles take seats as the guards stand to attention, more people flood in, all equally dressed in finery and sit.

“The Lycans cannot cross the barrier.” The leader laughs, like he was explaining a basic concept. 

“I wonder who will join us today?” One nobel asks another.

“I hope it is Baral. He is the most vicious. I want to see him tear the roman apart.” 

Orestes swallows thickly, pulling at the ropes. If he could just…

There is a low growl from the pit. A deep and terrible snap of teeth. 

He freezes despite myself when a large clawed hand grabs hold of the side. It‘s huge, the palm alone bigger than his head, some kind of mix between a human and a wolf. 

Slowly the creature pulls itself up and out, snarling with rows of sharp teeth and blood red eyes. 

He wants to scream. But he can’t move, can’t think.

A hush falls on the nobles as the creature appears and stalks around to Orestes. 

He seems to snap back to reality, and struggles to stand, to run, to defend himself, to-

The creature lunges forward and on top of him. 

He closes his eyes, bracing for the sharp stink of ripping claws and teeth. But it doesn’t come. 

He breathes deeply, raggedly, his heart pounding in his temples and slowly opens his eyes.

It’s dark, like he’s in a cave. It takes a moment for him to realise that the cave is fur. The creature seemingly, somehow draped over him to make a small tent like space. 

He sits up a little, his shoulder brushing the fur. It’s soft and warm, moving a little with the creature's breath.

“Hello.” 

He jumps, pushing himself back further against the fur and you giggle. 

“I am sorry to scare you.” 

Orestes blinks heavily, you’re sitting opposite him crouched with a large smile on your face. He can see your canines, larger than a person’s should be, and your eyes deep and red. But beautiful, oh so painfully beautiful.

You give him a little wave and he nods his head. 

“They tied you?” Your voice is sweet and gentle.

He nods again. 

You tut and carefully edge forward. 

He swallows, sucking in a breath in spite of himself, you move like running water, swift and mesmerising, your body completely naked. 

You watch him as you move, careful for any signs of distress like he was an injured rabbit in a trap. 

You reach back and cut the ropes with your sharp nails that retract a little when you are finished. 

“There you go.” “Thank you.” He mutters, staring bewitched as you move back a fraction but remain close. “There is a creature, a…”

You smile. He knows it’s you.

“Where are we?” He swallows, rubbing life back into his fingers. 

“We are not where you were.” 

“Am I dead?” 

You shake your head. “We will have to return there, shortly. Here is just to talk for a moment.” You touch his temple, the gooey blood on his skin. 

He flinches but doesn’t pull away when he realises your touch is gentle. 

“Are you going to kill me?” He breathes, watching you intently. His heart is still beating fast, his muscles tingling with adrenaline. But he doesn’t want to run or fight, he wants… he wants to…

“No.” You smile, taking your fingers to your lips and licking off his blood. 

“Why?” He asks without thinking. 

You laugh lightly. “You smell… nice.”

“Nice?” His mouth twitches upwards, surprised. 

You nod, leaning a little forward. “You don’t smell like food.” You whisper.

Orestes swallows. He can’t help himself, can’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He tilts his head and presses his lips to yours in a rush. 

You lick into his mouth and he tastes his own blood on your tongue. He groans, lightheaded and needy as he presses himself closer.

He whines when you pull back a fraction, smiling. “You smell like a mate.” 

Orestes nods desperately. “Please.”

“Do you accept me?” 

He nods rapidly, pushing himself closer to you again. His cock aches between his legs, pressing against his clothing and begging to be freed. 

“In any form?” 

“In any form.” He mutters. “Please.” 

You grin. 

In a blink of his eyes, he is back in the mosaic hall, flat on his back. The nobles watching as the creature, you, lean over him, your teeth so close to snapping into the flesh of his neck. 

He turns his head, touches your soft fur with his free hands. “Please.” 

You let out a soft growl, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

There’s some quiet murmuring from the crowd, anticipation as they think he’s about to get eaten alive.

With one clawed hand, you lightly dip under his clothing, ripping it in two clean down the middle. 

Orestes gasps, biting his lip as you bow your head down and lick a broad flat stripe with your thick tongue. You start between his legs, rising up his body until you flick just under his jaw. 

He groans, his eyes rolling back as he squirms under you, your strong form keeping him pressed down and at your mercy. 

There are a few confused whispers, surprised at how he seems to be enjoying himself. 

His cock is already painfully hard, throbbing in time with his rapid heartbeat. You nuzzle at his neck, your breath hot on his skin as you lay yourself fully over him, moving your legs and taking his length inside yourself. 

Orestes gasps, moaning loudly as he sinks inside. He claws at your fur, trying to pull you closer as he shakes. It feels so good, liquid pleasure running up his spine as he fills you that practically paralyses him in place. 

His cry of passion is almost indistinguishable from one of pain, and at first, the crowd thinks he has been split open. 

You growl and he shivers as you rock your hips. It’s like you’re everywhere, touching him with claws and teeth and nails and hands. He can feel your lips on his thighs and stomach, fur and skin on his chest, both forms seemingly at once as you increase your pace. 

It’s electric, addicting as you devour him; mind, and body, and soul. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes,” he moans, uncaring of the many eyes watching him hurtling rapidly to his release. Your heat squeezes him, caresses him, lets him sink deeper into mind numbing pleasure. 

“Please,” he sobs, he wants to call your name but he realises, painfully, that he hadn’t asked for it, instead he pulls at your fur, at your shoulders, at any part of you he can reach. 

You snap your teeth and it sounds like a chuckle before you lick along his neck and drag your canines along his skin. 

“My heart,” he whispers, his voice strained, “I’m, I’m close.” He doesn’t want this to stop, to ever end. But he can feel his body racing towards his climax like an unbridled horse. His hips buck, his balls tightened. 

You rock faster, you slick running down and coating his skin as your warmth begs for his release. In this form, you need his pleasure desperately. Can only have your own as he experiences his. 

He whines, crying out beautifully as his back arches. He comes loudly, shivering and sobbing as he empties into you, giving you every single part of himself. 

Pleasure rushes along your veins, embeds in your bones and you howl, long and hard as you come with him. 

You lick into his mouth, cradling him as he nuzzles against you. 

“Foolish beast!” The leader yells, shouting for the guards. 

One hurls a spear at you that clatters off your form as if it was a rain drop. But Orestes flinches.

And you snarl. 

You turn quickly, jumping from him and barreling through the barrier that does absolutely nothing to stop you. You rip the guards and nobles to pieces in a matter of seconds, moving faster than they can fathom as they scream in terror. How dare they threaten him, your mate. 

You blink, the rage dulling.

Slowly, you turn back to Orestes, worried for a second about your outburst until you see his soft eyes as he reaches out for you. You move back to him, nuzzling your face into his palm. 

He kisses your nose, your cheek, licking some of the sprayed blood from your fur as you embrace him, laying him back down under you protectively. 

“I did not ask for your name, my love.” He whispers softly and smiles when you mutter it against his ear. He repeats it slowly with undying affection. 

Thank you for reading!

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[mi-i-zori]

Breathe

CoD - Nikto x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : Nikto drinks blood like a starved beast.

WARNINGS : NSFW - 18+. Beware, this is kind of unhinged. Canon-typical violence, blood (Reader has periods - emphasis on period blood), Nikto (a warning in himself), blood/period kink (?), poetic smut, fluff.

Author’s Note : I have no idea why I keep using poetic sentences whenever I try to write smut, but hey. Guess its just how I am. A filthy romantic at heart.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Main Masterlist

Nikto licks blood off his fingers on the daily like a starved beast, savouring a taste he knows will never fully satiate his hunger.

It does not matter if the crimson nectar is his or not ; he keeps engraving its flavour deep into his mind. It leaves a warm, metallic feeling in the back of his throat - one similar to the one lining the surface of the gun that was repeatedly shoved past his teeth after its bullets were lodged in-between his ribs, the thick ropes circling his wrists harvesting his own, personal flavour directly from his veins.

Both life and death flow past his tongue, carving countless nightmares in the few hours of sleep weighing heavy on his subconscious - dragging a never ending series of shuddering breaths up his oesophagus whenever he wakes.

He can never escape them, for reality is just as bitter as his dreams. So he drowns it it blood, gunpowder and alcohol, turning away from the shredded screams coming from his reflection in the mirror.

Until that moment.

Your face is pulled into a grimace as you tell him about the way one of your stupid coworkers shamelessly blabbered about how dirty he thinks period blood is, filling your head with somber thoughts at the idea that yours is quickly approaching.

You don’t see how his eyes light up when they fall upon the date circled in red on the calendar of your phone.

And it is only when his lips meet your bleeding walls for the first time, lapping at the tears running down the inside of your thighs with a newfound reverence blossoming on his tongue, that the spectre in his head finally goes silent.

You look like divine absolution, he thinks, watching with rapt attention as moans flow from your lips like a holy river. Lust fills his mind, body and soul as he wonders if edging you further would allow him to taste the stars running through your veins. Would the world end up falling apart with you ?

The thought of the Earth shattering like glass against the echo of your climax fuels the fire burning in his stomach.

So he keeps staining his mouth red with your blood and slick. War-torn hands hold your legs still around his head as his fingers pull at your flesh, moulding it to his will - and he growls loudly against your core, the waves of a supernova bursting through your entire body as a new orgasm shakes the very foundations of your universe.

Is it the third ? The fourth ? The fifth ? You stopped counting a few seconds after his mouth first latched on the sacred flower blooming between your legs, too lost in the song of your own pleasure.

Nikto doesn’t need anything more to find his own release. He then crashes on top of you as you both fall from your high, lips sharing the last remnants of your erratic, scorching breaths.

He lays there for the rest of the night, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of your heartbeat - your divinity dancing on the back of his tongue.

The constellations lining your mind call out to him as he sleeps, flickering with the promise of finally carrying him away from the ruins of his heart. They light up his bones from below the thorns, and he would gladly sacrifice what is left of himself if it meant you could cradle them against your breast.

The warm softness of your skin soothes the pain still lingering in his scars, and he subconsciously cages your bare form in his arms as he drifts to the world of dreams.

He can finally breathe.

[kyleoreillylover]

Loyalty Masterlist

A multi-chapter series created by Kyleoreillylover. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, stolen or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit.

CHAPTER 1- THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER 2- THE TEST

CHAPTER 3- TIME

CHAPTER 4- JEALOUSY

CHAPTER 5- CRACKS

CHAPTER 6-LOYALTY

CHAPTER 7- PART 1- THE BATTLE BEFORE THE WAR

CHAPTER 7- PART 2- THE BATTLE BEFORE THE WAR

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius

Caught deep in the Tribal Chiefs' clutches for the past three years after acknowledging your long-time friend Roman Reigns, you finally feel on top of the world. You have a title, a family, Jey, people who actually care about you, can finally put your money where your mouth is and show everyone how ruthless, manipulative, and good you are, and have put your tumultuous and scarred past behind you - or so you thought.

Because the thorns in your side that you thought you'd rid yourself of will just never free you from their poisonous grips. And their names were Kevin Owens and Sam Zayn.

Your former best friends. The people you absolutely despised with everything in your heart. The people you vowed to distance yourself from and the history you chose to try to forget.

But love and hate are tangled webs, intricately laced together and impossible to unravel. And as much as you tried to bury the memories and feelings, they seemed to persistently claw their way back into your consciousness especially with Sami trying to claw his way into the Bloodline with you, and Kevin trying to get the both of you out.

You try to fight off their advances, and you're partially successful with Kevin, but Sami's kisses always weakened you, leaving you feeling conflicted and torn between the life you've built and the past you've tried to escape. But when Jey's fiery lips press against yours, grounding you in the present, he reminds you of your your loyalty and your commitment to the Bloodline, and keep you anchored from drifting too far into the turbulent waters of your past...

But how long will it be until the turbulent waves of your past fully consume you?

Until your taste for freedom outweighs your loyalty to the Bloodline? Until you find yourself torn between the love you feel for Jey and the unresolved emotions lingering for Kevin and Sami?

Until you finally realize that the lines between loyalty, love, and longing are blurred beyond recognition, leaving you in never-ending waves that crash upon the shores of your existence, threatening to erode the stability you've fought so hard to establish?

Not long, if Kevin has anything to say about it.

But you'll make sure he doesn't even have a chance to speak.

A/N: a bit of a multi-chapter series I am working on!! I love the bloodline and sami/Kevin story, so this is inspired by that. Stay tuned, hope you loved this summary!!

[yuri-is-online]

Hi hi, Can you please to prompt 4 with Malleus,Vil, and Riddle?

4. You met someone really wonderful at the Masquerade Ball and have been ranting about how he was totally the love of your life to your abnormally quiet friend. Actually wasn't he invited too? Maybe you should ask him how that went.

Hello hello and of course I can, and I agree with the first ask you sent me. I was not really thinking of Malleus specifically when I wrote that prompt but it really does suit him doesn't it?

Oh also, welcome to the hell site. I noticed you're new from the few asks you sent me (I was so confused as to how a blank blog was talking to me), I hope you have fun with the content on here. New people are always welcome with me, I know all about being shy and uncertain of how to interact with people. I'll answer the other Malleus prompt you sent in after I have done some others, it was my bad for not realizing you were the same person haha.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, full shojo manga lack of self awareness here in Malleus's part (it is implied to take place before the Ch. 6 reveal), just don't think about it is Yuu's middle name. The rest of the requests can be found on my masterlist here.

Malleus

"Tsunotarou, you know a lot about gargoyles, right?" Such a foolish yet welcome question. Truly your unawareness of just who you are conversing with never ceases to amaze and infatuate him.

"Of course, I am something of an expert." He smiles, trying to keep it from showing the whites of his teeth.

"Oh well then you must be very happy to be in Diasomnia." Your eyes are sparkling, and he pauses. Yes he is very happy to be in Diasomnia, but not for the gargoyles. Briar Valley has long respected the legacy of the Thorn Fairy, and what better house could there be for the noblest of nobles than one that's very core is the spirit of nobility? But these are not exactly things he wishes to speak with you about, it would require detailed revelations he fears the consequences of.

"And what makes you think that, child of man?" Still there must be cause for your reasoning, and he does wish to hear it.

"Well your housewarden is one, isn't he?" You seem very pleased with yourself, but your mind is clearly very far away. Malleus stares at you, eyes wide in shock as he attempts to piece together what logic might have drawn you to such a conclusion. "I met him last night." Your dreamy sigh fills him with jealousy, just irrational enough that the thunder crack above you is quite small enough that he can convince you to remain outside of Ramshackle in conversation with him.

"Your mask is really impressive!" Your eyes always shone at the simplest displays of magic, it filled Malleus with a joy he could never quite find his fill of.

"Mask?!" Roars Sebek, his volume matching the pride rapidly feeling Malleus's chest. "Foolish human, this is more than a mere mask! This is a display of my lord's skill! A perfect recreation of old Briar Valley Masquerade tradition! His artistic talent has been woven though magic to bear his true face for the world to see-"

"That's quite enough Sebek." He does enjoy his retainers praise, but he has a task in mind that the over excited boy might- no will definitely endanger if he speaks further.

"But my lord!" Poor Sebek is torn between embarrassment, jelousy, and concern as he watches his precious lord observe you in the same manner one might a particularly expensive jewel.

"They have given me a most treasured compliment and I wish to reward them in turn." He bows, making sure to flourish his hand as he extends it, taking great pleasure in the little shudder that he only sees unaccompanied by fear in you. "May I have this dance, prefect?"

"Y-yes. You may." You seem in a daze as he takes you to the floor, just as unaware of the others around you as he is. It's wonderful, no matter how many times he visits you he has never had such a good excuse to hold you as this. Your scent, the weight of you in his arms, the way he can better familiarize himself with the subtle movements of your face is all much more real and overwhelming than he had ever imagined it being. It's all Lilia can do to drag him away, whispering teasing things about impropriety and duty to soothe the storm at his fingertips as he sees your friends scoop you up where he left off.

"He is a very handsome gargoyle. And so polite! But then I guess he is royalty so that makes sense..." The continued thunder has you inviting him in, mentioning something about tea he really can't be bothered to think about.

"No he isn't." Malleus pouts. "The nobility of Briar Valley has a reputation for being extremely dour and irrational."

"Oh. Well no wonder he seemed so happy I danced with him. Poor fellow must be very lonely." Oh if only you knew.

"Enough about my housewarden." Malleus declares without a hint of irony, bowing in a familiar fashion to prevent you from entering your kitchen. "He isn't the one you are talking to now is he? He isn't the one who you will be thinking about when you dream tonight." In a slight daze you take his hand, the living room fills with green fireflies as the storm outside slows to a halt as kinder, not softer emotions fill the young lord's heart. "He isn't the one your last dance is for, so focus on me, won't you?"

Vil

"This is why I told you to make sure whatever costume Crewel gave you came with a coat." Vil is beyond angry, with you certainly, but mostly at- life? The fact humans have an immune system that doesn't always work? You have no clue and your head is much too stuffed up to care. What you do care about is that Vil is here, and he really shouldn't be. Colds are contagious and Vil has so many things that he should be doing other than fussing over someone who is not in his dorm and not his responsibility.

"You could get sick." You say and he laughs, if you could see him, if he was not sat behind you on a bed in one of Pomefiore's empty rooms, you know the look he would have on his face. You would see his stupidly beautiful smug smile he has when he has something particularly cutting to say; instead you have to close your eyes and picture it as he pats your head dry just a bit more forcefully.

"Not my responsibility you say? You certainly seem to have a funny view of this." Vil has a word on the tip of his tongue. A word that's ambiguous, a word that would make his manager have a fit. If only she had been a fly on the wall during the Masquerade last night.

"My my, you seem a bit out of place." The tall stranger must be confused at your staring, but he seems more amused than offended. "Does my costume enchant you that much?"

"It reminded me of something." It would hard enough to explain to a friend what you are thinking of, harder still to a stranger. The scarlet costume could have been taken from a playbill, you find yourself looking him over for any sign of a folio. You highly doubt it's you the Red Death wants to capture tonight, but you cannot say you will protest too loudly if that's what he decides. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Quite the opposite," the stranger does not ask you to dance, merely extends his hand and gracefully leads you off to the side when you take it, "so long as you praise me out loud you can look as long as you like."

"It's not like you got me sick." You sneeze into your tissue and Vil frowns, satisfied with your care but not with your answer. He had his suspicions that you may have made a... mistake in your assessment of your time at the Masquerade. But it did hurt him slightly to think that you did not know his essence well enough to have recognized him at once. "And I did get a costume with a cloak, I just gave it to the Red Death because it was too weird to see him without it."

"Mhmm I don't know." you say. It's such a shame Vil can only see your lips, he loves it when you tease him so much already it isn't fair he has to focus on something so tauntingly close and yet so far out of reach. "I think your costume is incomplete."

"Oh?" Vil makes sure to hold you close to him as the song ends, daring anyone to come close enough to try and steal your attention so he can laugh at the attempt. "What's your reasoning for that? Depending on what you have to say, I just might agree." You back out of his arms and make a frame with your fingers. "Kiss me." He begs silently. "Kiss me and leave a mark." But instead you unwind your cloak and fix it to his shoulder.

"Perfect. Now you really look like the portrait." And to his great despair you are gone.

Despite your earlier stated worries, you fall back into Vil's chest, tilting your back to look up at him. "When I'm not sick remind me to tell you about the Phantom of the Opera? I wanted to spend more time dancing with him, but I was feeling too much at home and got scared he'd vanish." Vil's eyes shine with a strangely familiar light, and he gently guides you under the bed's covers. Just before he leaves he kisses your forehead so gently it's all you can do not to cry.

"I think your phantom might be closer than you think." He murmurs against your skin and leaves you to sleep, tucking you under a mysteriously familiar red cloak as soon as your eyes are well and truly closed.

Riddle

"You will be too tired to do anything after the ball, so make sure to shower and go directly to bed."

It was good advice based off of a reasonable assumption, and technically you were not in fact physically doing anything. You were also quite tired, you had expected to spend most of the ball on the outskirts observing the display of feathers and paints but that was far from what actually happened. You don't think you had ever danced in your life as much as you had in the past six hours. It would be extremely reasonable to assume that after scrubbing yourself free of makeup and sweat you would be down for the count.

But you weren't. Your mind was running a mile a minute, eyes constantly glancing at your phone on your nightstand. It's an odd feeling, wanting to call someone and not being able to. It is also a feeling you have become deeply familiar with, the ache it produces might as well be permanently woven into your heart, you should be immune to the pain at this point.

This time though, this time the person you want to call could theoretically be within reach. This person was someone you could touch, someone you could hold, someone whose touch still lingered against your hands.

The little knight was just as awkward as you were, if he didn't immediately stutter out a protest you would have thought he was just as inexperienced with the whole formal party thing as you were.

"I know what I'm doing I just-"

"Then can you show me how to dance? I've been practicing but I'm not great at it." He stares at you, and you are worried you said something wrong until he laughs, it sounds smug you think but you can't be sure.

"That's the proper way to ask for a dance." He takes your hand in his as he bows, kissing it so gently you half think it was your imagination. "This is."

You pick up your phone before it buzzes, immediately sitting up in shock when you see just who is messaging you at 3:30 am on a Friday.

[Riddle] Are you still awake prefect?

[Yuu] Ace is that you.

[Yuu] I'm not covering for you if Riddle finds out you took his phone again (¬_¬)

[Riddle] What do you mean again?

The little knight's dance is stiff at first, but he relaxes as you continue. He has been guiding you to the center of the room, you belatedly realize. You must have looked frightened once you did. "It would be rude to stay in the corner during the slower songs." He squeezes your hand to bring your attention back to him. "It isn't against the rules to be bad at dancing, but it is to monopolize other people's space."

"Aren't you doing that right now?" You tease and he stops leading you, almost as if he hadn't even considered that.

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" He almost sounds afraid and you find yourself having to take over the direction of your movements.

"I didn't say that." Your knight almost seems to grow ten feet tall at your praise before he becomes aware of himself again and gets a bit bashful. But he does not take over again, content to let you set the pace of your dancing for the rest of the night.

[Riddle] Actually disregard that. Since you are awake, would you mind coming to your window? I understand throwing rocks is considered romantic but breaking a window would be most unfitting behavior for a housewarden.

You are tempted to tell him you are waiting for a message from someone else, but the unusual behavior has you at your window before you can even full form the thought. You almost drop your phone at the sight you see below you.

Riddle expected to have difficulty making eye contact with you. He expected to be teased about his failure to follow his own good advice, his costume has got to be a mess between the dancing he did with you earlier and the pacing he did once he got back to Heartslabyul.

But neither of those happen. Neither matters, instead you see him and the familiar scrap of paper you had given him with your number and a heart and fly down the Ramshackle steps into his outstretched arms.

"I'm so glad it was you I danced with tonight."

[lunarw0rks]

Old Bones | Epilogue

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): mild angst & language

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: The long-procrastinated final chapter of this series. Thank you for all the patience and support, for those who wanted this resolution.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ˖⁺‧₊˚ ask box ˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | ao3 ver. | playlist ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

Epilogue

It wasn’t paradise. It wasn’t heaven. It wasn’t an excursion.

But it was all there, right before your eyes. The void of civilization — the tranquility of nature; both cruel and unrelenting, yet the closest to nirvana a human eye can see. The images you viewed through a screen were nowhere near as breathtaking as the sight in front of you.

The quaint lake house was nestled within a dense forest, the trees caked in bitter frost that traveled its way to your warm and exposed flesh. Then there was the lake, the breathtaking centerpiece in your irises. Shimmering hues of aquamarine and sage, swashing and dribbling across the rocky shore with every pass of its mellow waves. The body of water stretched for miles, farther than your eye could see. It was trees, dirt, moss, the lake, and the azure sky encasing it all.

This is what you needed, what you craved whilst cooped up in your torn-up residence. Not solitude from fleeing, not this time. Voluntary isolation was all it was in its purest, most natural form. Though you weren’t alone on this getaway, you wasted hours gazing at the unparalleled allure of the wilderness.

You had no ties anymore. No thorned ring on your left hand, no financial strain keeping you overworked until a hopeless retirement. Freedom was the newest taste on the tip of your tongue, passionate and liberating. Most significantly, Simon found a close second on that list of novel freedoms.

The lakehouse itself is charming; too charming for this type of funereal retreat.

Updated, almost completely modernized on the inside with spendy furniture and new fixtures. The wooden exterior that stretches to the inside is its only peculiarity, aside from the backwoods you’re staring at. Stained with warm, earthy tones that have weathered for who knows how long. Whoever renovated the land must’ve seen the same character in it that you did — how its very appearance hints at an enduring history with the land.

On the wooden porch, you nursed a mug and maintained your deliberating gaze. Behind you, the screen door creaked open, “y’ alright? Bloody freezing out here.” Simon spoke, and you turned around with a disconcerted jerk. In truth, you had forgotten how long it’d been, and time had escaped you.

You had spaced his presence completely. Ironic, considering you were the one who urged him to accompany you. Although it was understandable, considering the burly man was as stealthy as a mouse.

“I’m okay.” You muted, giving him your best attempt at a smile. “Thank you, Si.” That was a new one. But it felt right when you said it.

His boots hit the wood with soft thumps as he approached, as quiet as a brute could be on a creaky deck. As the door closed behind him, the loose snow built up on the overhang scattered and fell. Simon dusted off the lounge chair parallel to you and seated himself, taking in the same sight you were currently. “Don’t know why you bother. The view is the same from the window.” You turn your head, spotting the natural bounce of his leg, as if he was always in a state of unrest.

You shrug your shoulders, unsure of the reason yourself, “guess I’m savoring it. Can’t stay here forever, can we?” He responds with a whispered scoff, showing his agreement. Isolation wasn’t what he wanted, despite how he loathed humanity.

He needed the sounds of the people, the city, to feel even an ounce of being a part of them. Whether he knew it or not, Simon himself wasn’t sure either. “Suppose not. It’s too… peaceful.” His speech wavered whilst looking for the right word.

“I think we deserve some peace.” You reply, despite the irony of all the blood and grief it took to get here.

Simon fell silent again, for several seconds. The hand on his thigh began twitching a bit, his fingers stimming in a patterned motion — the way they always did when he contemplated. You had been looking at the view again until his stillness was noticeable.

“You do, sweetheart.” He affirmed before you opened your mouth again, fingers going motionless with relief.

In your chest, you felt a tinge of resentment. Questions began to buzz again, pertaining to the twisted connection you two had gotten stuck in. What the hell were you doing? Where was this going? What did he want? All those pesky answers far, far away in the distance — with no promise of ever catching up with them.

But you felt it. Every atom and bit of what you had been through with him, and what it meant. It wasn’t analytical. It was human, this need to never part with him. To think, when this all began, you envisioned a life of recluse and romantic aversion until your wrinkled body went cold.

You weren’t corrupted, or if you were, it didn’t trouble him. For that, you were plunged into the constant unease of feelings. It was the closest experience to hell on Earth; being in love with him felt worse than fearing the man you thought you were.

“What do you want? After this?” You forced out the words, despite not wishing to speak another to him. It wasn’t a series of questions — they were accusations. Perhaps pushing him out would be better than letting him in, but that didn’t seem so easy. Your heart couldn’t differentiate love and hate; they were synonymous.

The change in tone didn’t phase him. It couldn’t, it was part of the bargain, and he knew it. “Don’t know.” He huffed, standing up from his chair with a grunt.

You weren’t satisfied with the answer. How could you be? Two words? There weren’t enough in all the languages to express how you felt. The mug in your hands was set on the outdoor table, followed by a shuffle of your footing.

Now, you stood in front of him with furrowed brows. “You don’t know? So, what? I go back to the city, live in that damn house, and forget everything you did for me?”

“If that’s what you want.” Simon unquestioned, hands stuffed into the pockets of his bomber jacket. His nonchalance was going to be the death of you.

You rubbed your temple and let out a hefty sigh, expecting to see him gone when you looked up again. He wasn’t; he was still there, a doleful demeanor written all over him. “What does that mean, Simon? You, wandering around the city until you get yourself killed? I don’t want to forget you or remember you that way.”

“Then don’t.” He snapped, yet didn’t take on a stance of annoyance. “You want me in the bloody city with you? I’ll go. You want me to piss off? Say the words.” Your mouth hung open slightly, lips wavering as you sputtered.

His brows furrowed, the same as yours, but his feelings were different. It wasn’t a mix of love and hate; it was yearning. A complex, agonizing yearning that he had ceased in fighting. “I hate the bloody city, but I don’t hate you.” Simon added, sending the conversation into silence again. For him, it was the closest you’d get to those three words. Though, they might as well have had the same meaning.

Instead of retorting, your tense shoulders relaxed, as did your parted lips. You finally had your answer — still complicated — but an answer. It was the future, the path you knew you were coming back home on.

To be followed back into the city, having another half to fill the empty space of the lonely house. And how it’d eventually be furnished to your liking, dazzled with the selections you’d circled in the catalog. Put together and posed by Simon himself, and thanked with a kiss. Breaking in the fireplace, spending holidays as if they weren’t holidays at all, preventing any reminder of the sour memories you both had.

The chest you rest your head on, steady and synced with the putter of your heart. The organ isn’t healed, forever cracked and pumping to his rhythm. The hand resting on your shoulder, scarred and twitching while he contemplates what you’ll have for dinner. His pressing thoughts are trivial, coming a long way from war and life-or-death.

Of all the lives impacted by those hands, the one he’d saved mattered most.

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011 @stunkbiggu @bi-witch-bxtch @warm-milk-with-honey @xheera @kiamewrites @01trickster10 @m0chac0ffee @tizylish @midwesternwitchery @ramadiiiisme @tooruen @cran-berry-vodka @arctichotch @neadivana

[http-paprika]

IVY AND IRON THORNS

the masterlist

a medieval au / sir simon riley x lady reader / reader’s discretion advised series contains descriptions of gore, violence, religious practices, century typical sexism and gender roles, forced marriage, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, legal age gap (reader is early 20s, simon is mid 30s)

in which a lady who’s always expected the world to be given to her has everything torn away. and the only ally in she has in a strange land is a solemn knight with a stormy past.

the epigraph—

chapter I— betrothed to the prince of a nearby land, you set out on a journey that changes your life forever.

chapter II— arriving at castle tharn, you are thrust into the startling reality that you are at the mercy of those who govern these unknown lands.

chapter III— called to have an audience with the lord of the castle, you leave questioning the life you've known

chapter IV— summary coming

chapter V— summary coming

chapter VI— summary coming

chapter VII— summary coming

chapter VIII— summary coming

chapter IX— summary coming

the aesthetic—

taglist open / updated 09.22.24

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 23: Moral Compass

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

Lord, why? Why does he have to be so fucking stupid?

I’ve always found hospitals to be quite eerie. They’re meant to provide a comfortable environment but as I wait for news about Thomas I can’t help but shutter at the sight of this dreary place. It’s been a whole night of waiting. Waiting to know if my boss’s heart still beats. I don’t know who he pissed off this time but they mean business.

“Hello again, Ms. Steenstra.”

It can’t be.

“Inspector Campbell,” I greet coldly. “I see you haven’t been scared off for good. You’re here for Thomas, I imagine?”

The inspector, now with a very noticeable limp, looks at the door across from me. “That is private business.”

Of course it is. Always business. Not a worried soul hoping Thomas might be alive. I guess it's just me.

A nurse walks by and pokes her head into his room. “Are you ready for a visitor, Mr. Shelby?”

“No,” a gruff voice answers. Thomas.

I get up and call softly: “Not even a concerned friend?” 

The nurse stands aside and lets Thomas see my face. “I’ll make an exception.”

I can’t wait any longer. I rush to his bedside and take in his broken face. God… He looks so weak.

“Jesus Christ! Thomas- What happened?”

“Sabini,” he mutters, his torn lip making his voice sound different.

He lets me take his hand. “How are you not dead? These injuries… they’re not just simple scratches.”

He ignores my worried thoughts and his eyes flicker over to the door. “Campbell…”

“Inspector Campbell? He’s outside right now, wanting to see you.”

This triggers the injured gangster to sit up and try to spread out the wrinkles in his sheets. Is he preparing for a hospital visit or a job interview?

“How do I look?”

I give him a pointed stare and rub his temples. “Like you just avoided death. Does your mouth hurt?”

Thomas shakes his head. “Not so much anymore. Does the scar look bad?”

“No amount of scars can make you look any less handsome. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Thomas is trying to keep a stern face but a smile slips out nonetheless. Good to know his happiness isn’t completely dead yet.

The door opens and the nurse is back. “Mr. Campbell will see you now.”

That’s my que to leave. 

“Feel better, Thomas.”

I give his hand a final squeeze and exit the room, but not before giving the inspector one final glare.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Come on. Pick up.”

Why is she not answering? Polly said Ada’s home.

Harry walks by with a few other Blinders and I have a sneaky suspicion they have the answer to my question.

“Hey!” The three men turn around. “Where’s Ada?” No response. “Where is Ada?”

The two unknowns exchange glances and Harry’s the one to answer. “Mrs. Thorn, she was abducted. But she’s safe now.”

Abducted. This has to be Sabini’s work. Even Campbell isn’t dumb enough to attempt that. 

“Where is she?” I demand.

Harry holds up his hands defensively. “Easy, Ms. Steenstra. She didn’t want any more from us so she went off to her flat. There’s a guard outside.”

That doesn’t explain why she didn’t answer the phone.

“I’m going over there.” Harry tries to stop me but my own icy glare stops him dead in his tracks. “That goes without question. If you wish to complain, go see Polly.”

Thump thump thump.

Muffled footsteps echo from the hall and-

“Thomas?” I’m speechless. “How-?”

“Checked out early,” he explains quickly and goes for the telephone.

“You did what? Thomas, you can’t just-!”

He puts down the receiver and faces me with determined eyes. “I can’t just wait in that hospital for Sabini to kill me. I need to head to Camden Town.”

My jaw drops. “In your condition? You could die.”

“There’s a man there who I think can be a useful ally. Name’s Solomons.”

Solomons? That sounds familiar. If I remember right he runs a brewery business as well. He might know Uncle Colon. 

“There’s other news,” I say slowly. “There was an attempt to abduct Ada. Harry says she’s fine now but I’m going over there anyway. From what I hear Ada wants nothing to do with you.”

Thomas’ scarred face smirks and he raises his eyebrows. “She’ll lighten up once I give her the key.”

I frown. “Key?”

“To the house.”

“House?” My voice rises. “You bought Ada a house?”

Thomas taps the side of his head thoughtfully. “Economics, love. You of all people should understand. All the same I’d appreciate it if you stayed with her a few days. Just in case, for both of you.”

I- I’m touched. Thomas thinks of me as the same level as his own sister. Or is it because he trusts me to keep her safe? 

“You keep yourself safe,” I order when he reaches for the phone again. Please promise.

“I will.”

Knock knock.

“Ada. I know you hate Thomas’ guts right now but please let us in.”

I hear a lock being undone and the door opens to reveal an older Karl.

“Hello, Karl! Remember me?” I smile and kneel down. “Is your mum home?”

He nods eagerly and scampers down the hall, leaving Finn and I to follow. Inside we find Ada lounging on the parlor couch. 

“Verena? Finn? What’s going on?”

“Sorry for the pop-in. I tried to call. I heard what happened and wanted to make sure you’re alright. And catch up a bit, if I’m honest.”

The Shelby sister stands up and engulfs me in a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“I brought Finn because he can’t wait for another lesson. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. It’ll keep Karl occupied too.”

She reaches over to pour some fresh tea and I’m glad to say there’s no sign of physical harm on her.

“So? What happened?”

Ada rolls her eyes. “Some bloke tried to grab me on my way home. Gave him a good kick to the balls he won’t forget.” She pauses to give me a look-over. “Tommy’s still got you working after all? Aren’t you tired of all the killing?”

“If you still question my tolerance for your family’s business then you still have a lot to learn about Americans. I just hope it’s remembered-”

“Verena, you have become more trustworthy than actual blood members of us Shelbys. You are just as big a part of this family. Ah!” Ada stops me from arguing. “You are.”

“She’s right,” Finn agrees. “Can we do a lesson now?”

“Like school?” Karl asks from the doorway. 

“Oh it’s not like school,” Finn assures him and pats a spot on the sofa next to him. “It’s loads better.”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” I comment. “What might today’s topic be?”

Ada excuses herself and walks out just as Finn says “philosophy.” I think after being married to Freddie she’s already heard an earful about the subject.

“To begin with, consider this: Americans are the ones who invented the electric chair in New York in 1888 and executed William Kemmler in 1890 because they were seeking a more humane method of execution instead of hanging. They succeeded, though after many trial-and-errors with gruesome results. What moral issues might this cause?”

Karl raises his hand. “Killing is mean.”

“You’re right, Karl. It is mean. People go back and forth about whether it should be a form of punishment.”

“I say yes,” Finn inputs. “If someone kills a person I care about, they deserve to die too.”

“Another fair point. Now. There are three moral theories I’d like to tie to this. Mill’s moral theory about consequentialism believes that the action that produces more utility is good. It asks  “Will doing this result in greater overall wellbeing for all of those involved?” By executing a murderer, we will be eliminating the threat of more innocent lives being in danger.”

I take a breath to gather my thoughts. Both boys are hanging on my next words. “Now consider Kant’s moral theory. This theory of deontology says that religion is separate from morality. Instead of religious rules, Kant suggests using the basis of ‘what is right’ in terms of consideration of other people. ‘Will this action become a universal law?’ If one murderer is being executed for his crimes, then so should every other murderer after him. No exceptions.”

Another breath. “The last theory I’ll bring up is Aristotle’s virtue ethics. This focuses on character development and the task of morality, and overall being a good person. He thinks that we are programmed with a want to be virtuous, and the idea of being virtuous is having a balance of honesty and courage. ‘Will killing this murderer help for the executioner to be a person of better character? Do you both understand what I’m saying?”

Finn, sitting with his fist on his chin, nods slowly. Karl keeps staring with wide eyes.

“Wow.”

“I agree, Karl. Wow.”

Thank goodness that satisfied Finn for the next few days. I’m no proper teacher so there’s no time to plan lessons. We’ve been far too busy for that. Every hour I expert word to say that Thomas will be returning in a coffin.

Thud thud thud.

More footsteps enter the house and my heart soars.

“You're back!” I gasp when Thomas pokes his head in. His wounds have healed up nicely and he looks to have gotten his strength back. “Thank God. I heard rumors you’d been killed but I didn’t believe them.” 

He offers a quick smile but there’s something else. A glint in his eyes that tells me his trip was successful. “You’re up to something.”

“Don’t know what you mean, love.”

My eyes narrow and I put my hands on my hips. “Spill, Thomas.”

The gangster squeezes my arm and goes to pour himself some tea. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

@meadows5

[lemonandlime22]

Angsty Bitey child!Yuu idea

Warning(s): sad, possibly soul crushing, not edited

Word count: 570

A/N: I’m so sorry I haven’t posted anything, me and my family moved across my state and it was just a lot but the move is finally over, but I’ll still be busy cause of organizing and all that stuff for the next couple of days. I wrote this on my phone so the formatting is prob different.

[Bitey child!Yuu Masterlist]

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Yuu had an amazing day, they hung out with all their friends, Cheka even visited and they both played for hours. But now they were all tuckered out and were laying in bed snuggled up to Grim with their arm locked around him like usual. Being some comfy it was easy for little Yuu to slowly drift off to sleep….

Slowly the small child opened their eyes. They were met with the thin line of bright sunlight that peeked through the two buildings on either side of the alleyway’s over hanging roofs a few feet away from them. They sat up rubbing their eyes with a yawn, they looked at their surroundings to take note of the few belongings they owned that were scarred around the concrete ground.

On the other side of one of the cardboard box flabs were 4 old cards that nearly hung on to themselves, a diamond, a club, a spade, and a heart. On top of them was a long dead and wilted rose that looked to be very crudely ripped of a bush.

Safety under a rock laid a cut out picture of a lion and a picture of a hyena that used to be connected to the lion, both clearly very old and weak. With only a leg under the rock was a small plushy of what they believed was a wolf, but it had been to chewed up by one of the stray dogs to be completely sure.

In between the two piles was a third. At the bottom were two ripped up teal pool noodles that used to be one but had been torn in half. On top of pool noodles was a rubber purple octopus that used to be sticky and squishy but was now covered in to much dirt you could barley see the purple.

Next up was a toy gold bracelet that was surprisingly clean considering what it was surrounded by. Wrapped around the bracelet was a small rubber black snake, one that could be found in any gift shop.

Closer to the box, on the opposite side from the cards and rose, was a plastic doll with blonde and purple hair. On top of it was a dirty once white feather, and a long rotten apple that had not once been bite into before it rotted to its core.

Off to the side was a small blue box of matches but it only had two inside of it, one long working and a shorter one that had broke in half and was unusable due to a crumbled tip.

In the corner further from the rest of the piles was a long pice of thorns that were ripped off the rest of the bush. Inside of the thorns were dirty old pair of you vampire teeth, with a small pile of various animals tufts of fur and feathers, and last in the pile was a small plastic toy croc that had missing limbs and was very chewed up.

And lastly right next to the small child in the side ways cardboard box were three scrap sheets of white cloth, and a rag doll with big blue button eyes that resembled a grey cat.

The small child picked up the rag doll and laid back down onto the various scraps of fabric with it comfortably in their arms. They smiled, so very happy to have had another good dream!

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In short this angsty idea is like if all of twst was made up by Bitey as a way too cope with their loneliness, and it’s all just dreams and their imagination.

This was originally going to be the ending of the choose your own adventure but the fluff ending one the poll lol.

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[morning-star-joy]

when men like you come around chapter I

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC!Ethel

Summary: One of the most important lessons Ethel Taylor was taught in life was when you meet a bad man, pull the trigger and run. She's done it before, and she's ready to do it again when she crosses paths with outlaw Arthur Morgan. But something stays her hand, and when she ends up as the newest addition to the Van der Linde gang, they quickly become thorns in each other's sides, up until they're the only two that can pull off a big job posing as a doting, newlywed couple.

Fic Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of a past abusive relationship, mentions of murder. Rivals to lovers, slow burn, sexual tension, eventual smut, lots of sass from both Arthur & Ethel. High Honor!Arthur with some Medium Honor vibes. Ethel POV written in second person, Arthur POV written in third person.

Wordcount: 3.2k

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series masterlist || kofi || updates blog

You knew men like Arthur Morgan.

All your life, you’d been warned against them. Men who stole what they wanted and murdered whoever dared to get in their way in nothing but cold blood. Bad men, the likes of which your father only ever gave you one lesson for:

“Come across a no-good man, honey, and I need you to hold this gun steady,” he instructed you as you struggled under the weight of the rifle, too little to hold properly, too young to understand the consequences if you ever did aim and pull the trigger, even as your father taught you how to do just that. “You pull back—right here. Get your aim straight, squeeze down on the trigger, and shoot. You shoot ‘til he’s dead, until you’re safe, and you never look back. Alright?”

“Alright,” you had said then with a sure nod, soaking in the gravity of those words and taking them to heart, carrying them with you until the day you were face to face with a grizzled outlaw, one who no doubt deserved a bullet in the chest and not a single glance thereafter.

Because you knew men like him well.

Men who cheated, who lied, who punched and punched until their knuckles were bloody and broken and somebody wasn't breathing anymore beneath them, didn’t deserve an ounce of mercy.

You knew men like Arthur since before the moment you met him, yes.

But you didn’t know Arthur.

You wouldn’t know him, not really, until months later. Months of pushing each other with your words until you were both on your wits absolute end, months you spent settling into the Van der Linde gang with nowhere else to go after he had found you running from the law in a torn-up, blood-stained dress of the latest fashion straight from Saint Denis.

Honest to God, you had wanted to shoot him then. Hand clutched around your father’s rifle, you were ready to aim as soon as you turned around in the saddle to follow the noise of the gunshot that just rang out behind you.

And then you saw him.

Sitting comfortably, almost casually in his saddle as he came to a stop a distance away from you, Cattleman in hand. You had felt a surge of panic that hadn't completely abated for days, hand tightening around your rifle, ready to raise it until you realized that his smoking revolver was pointed up at the sky, not towards you.

“You alright, Miss?” he asked, his voice a rough drawl, and you glanced from him towards the lawman that had been hot on your trail and shooting at you a moment before, now dead weight dragged far away along the dirt by a limp foot still caught in a stirrup, Lord knowing who would find him and what mayhem would follow.

“You just killed a lawman,” you said, looking back towards the man currently not pointing a gun at you, and so for just the moment, you didn’t point yours at him.

His worn hat was perched on his head to protect from the blaring sun, black brim covering his eyes, but you swore then and even now that you saw a twitch of his lips before he shifted in his saddle.

Glancing behind him towards the other dead body you yourself had left in the dust—you had drawn without a moment of hesitation the moment their concern for you shifted towards apprehension and reaching for their sidearms—the man turned back to you and replied matter-of-factly, “So did you.”

He holstered his gun slowly, deliberate in making no sudden movements, even as you kept a steady grip on your own firearm resting across your lap, not lowering your guard for one second.

This man just murdered somebody innocent without so much as a second thought, the voice of a skittish animal of prey, trying to still keep you alive, echoed in your mind.

And then another voice—louder, prowling, unfeeling and unforgiving (though towards the man you had killed or to yourself, you didn’t know)—resonated in all corners of your thoughts with the same words he had just spoken: so did you.

Something stilled your hand then, but maybe not for too much longer if a woman hadn’t come riding up next to him. Seeing your blood-stained clothes, your rattled, wide-eyed look of a wild animal backed into the corner and lashing out at the nearest possible threat, she had approached cautiously and introduced herself.

When you relaxed and gave your own name with some difficulty, she offered you a safe place to wash up and get your affairs straight, much to the protests from the man, which she quickly shot most of it down with a dirty look. 

This woman you would get to know, fairly quickly; her sandy blond hair tied in a braid that never once got out of place through all her riding and shooting. You’d come to appreciate Mrs. Sadie Adler, with all her sharp words fiercely protecting a warm heart, and the other girls in the gang.

Eventually, you'd care for and rely on them more than any of the women you had known your whole life, other than the unconditional love of your mother—even if that love had gotten you into this situation in the first place, in a way, but you tried not to think about it like that.

You also tried not to think too hard about what she’d think if she could see you now, running with a gang of outlaws after what you’d done.

Tried not to dwell on the fear that the kind-hearted, God-fearing woman may be the first to call the law down upon you if you ever dared to show your face around home again.

Home, though it hadn’t been home for quite some time.

Still, you longed for it, aching for a short-lived era of your life long past—maybe even a time far before then. Days of running for what felt like miles and miles across open fields, but in reality were just your little feet and large imagination carrying you across the sun-bleached grasses of your family’s modest farming property.

Until they found oil underneath it, and everything changed.

You hadn’t always been as prim and proper as you tried to pass off, no. Although you had almost been made for the socializing and charming of high society with your quick wit and sharp intellect that you learned to hide underneath a smile of perfectly acceptable, alluring innocence. But your just as quick temper and sharp tongue was a tell that life for you hadn’t always been getting pinched by corsets and drinking fine wines.

"I'm a high society lady,” you had snapped one day when that Arthur Morgan had laughed at your offense towards the mud a passing stagecoach had splattered on the hem of your dress, “thank you very much, Mister."

"Sure,” he had drawled in a tone so casual it was nearly downright condescending right back, over exaggerating a low bow that made your blood boil. Tipping the brim of his hat back with a coarse trigger finger that had sent more men to the grave than you thought any of you could count, he arched an obnoxiously knowing eyebrow at you and added, “One that can shoot a man right between the eyes at ten paces."

You had waved him off as you turned to stomp away, nearly resorting to a very unladylike gesture that would have only proved his point. Still, your haughty reaction was enough of an answer that he needed, more laughter echoing behind you, so bordering on taunting that your shoulders bunched up around your ears.

Arthur wanted a reaction. He always wanted a reaction from you, though you couldn’t figure out for the life of you why—a reason to give Dutch to kick you out of the camp, maybe. Proof that you didn’t have the gang’s best interests in mind, that for all your chores and schemes that Hosea eventually began to loop you in on, you just weren’t one of them.

And that thought only made you work harder. If Arthur wanted to prove you weren’t loyal, you would only show the exact opposite, just to show him.

Maybe you were just vindictive. 

Maybe, if you were only trying to prove him wrong, you were actually proving him right.

But you did care about those girls, forming a deep bond, a fond kinship with them that you had never felt before with anyone else. You had high esteem for Hosea too, finding a likeness in his sage advice to your father, appreciating the way he gently formed your high society schmoozing into outright swindling the same kinds of folks.

Not to mention you were a wicked good shot. All your father’s shooting lessons had assured this, and the combination of those assets wrapped up with your pleasant, pretty smile on top made you a valuable asset to the group.

As long as you stayed far, far away from Lemoyne and the posters that surely plastered the walls of every town there, and Arthur didn’t give you a reason to make good on shooting him dead like you were raised to do, everything would be just fine.

“Miss Taylor.”

Or maybe not.

Because if that no good Arthur Morgan kept drawling your name like that and giving that tiny hint of a smirk, interrupting you while you were in the middle of enjoying a perfectly good cup of coffee on a pleasantly warm early morning, there was going to be a grave needing to be dug.

“Mr. Morgan,” you replied curtly, not raising your eyes from the words on the page in front of you, holding the book Mary-Beth had loaned you in one hand while taking another sip of coffee with the other. You were out of Miss Grimshaw's view right now, and planning to make good on sneaking in a few pages this morning before getting to work.

“Didn’t they teach you in all your high society fancy lessons to look at somebody when yer talkin’ to them?”

The words weren’t haughty or necessarily accusatory, but more teasing, trying to get under your skin by throwing your claims of being a civilized lady back in your face. Your jaw clenched, eyebrow twitching, and you knew from the quiet, husky chuckle hidden under a breath that you had stepped right into giving Arthur the reaction he wanted, yet again.

“When I’m speaking to an honorable man of high caliber, yes,” you replied smoothly, setting down your coffee for just a moment to turn a page. “Wasn’t aware you were one of those, Mr. Morgan.”

A snicker caught your attention then, and a smirk catches on the edge of your own lips, seeing a flash of red hair from the corner of your eye. You felt the energy shift from Arthur momentarily, and you didn’t need to look to know Sean surely scuttled away from eavesdropping on the two of you at Arthur’s silent intimidation before he settled again.

“Well, I sure as hell ain’t claimin’ to have any sort of honor,” he mumbled, and you gave a noncommittal hum that merely said that you knew this well, lifting your tin back to your lips for another slow sip of the bitter drink.

There was silence for a moment, and you dared to hope that Arthur would move on then, go hand out his warm good morning greetings reserved for almost every member of the gang other than you.

But then the words in front of you were a blur, the paper slipping from your fingers as you reached them out to try and snatch the book back, but Arthur had caught you off-guard, and was already stepping away with the novel in hand.

“Hey!” you snapped, coffee forgotten on the table to rise to your feet, holding the skirt of your dress out of the way to stomp after him. “Really? Don't you have somethin’ better to do?”

“Probably,” Arthur called back to you, sending a wider smirk back over his shoulder at you that made your blood boil. “But mayhaps I wanna see what’s gotten your attention so completely this mornin’, Miss High Society.”

He was still striding quickly away from you, making you start to jog a little to try and catch him, now leading you right across camp as you muttered apologies to anybody you almost ran into, all the while Arthur flipped carelessly through your book’s pages and dodged everybody effortlessly at the same time.

You were giving strong protests, fumbling over your words for once as he kept skimming the pages towards the back of the book, eyebrows raising as he cast a glance back towards you with a surprised laugh.

“Well, Miss Taylor,” he said slowly, his smirk growing into a grin that only spoke of trouble, and you lunged for the book, stumbling past him when he dodged you easily and flipped another page. “I always thought someone of yer education was so above these kinds of…vulgar stories.”

Face heating, you glared at the infuriatingly smug look on Arthur’s face as you snapped back, “It’s not vulgar. It’s romance.”

“Clearly, you haven’t gotten to the end,” Arthur drawled, clearing his throat loudly as he straightened up, and you only had a brief moment of fear for what he was about to do before he began to read out loud, “‘Her hands clutching his luscious, dark curls as he ripped open her bodice, revealing a voluptuous, heaving bosom—’”

You finally managed to snatch the book back then, snapping it shut and clutching it to your own heaving chest, breaths quickened with flustered anger at his satisfaction of having gotten on your nerves, again.

“Well, might as well read those words, outlaw,” you snapped again, returning his own nickname of your status with your nickname of his own, each one thinly veiled with an insult instead of anything remotely fond. “Those pages are the only place you're gonna see a heaving bosom.”

Arthur laughed, the sound loud and hearty, echoing around the camp and surely drawing attention to yet another altercation between the two of you, as it seemed like most days the gang wasn’t functioning as normal without you and Arthur bickering.

“They teach you ‘bout that kind of thing in those fancy lessons too?” he shot back through chuckles, still grinning in a way that was almost wicked, and you felt the heat in your face surge through your whole body as you smacked his shoulder with the book.

“Oh, shut up!” you exclaimed, glare withering as he only laughed louder before you repeated in a hiss. “Shut. Up.”

To his credit, his laughter did ease then, even as he gestured towards the book again and accused, “Now that is just about the worst thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of settin’ my eyes upon.”

You groaned with a roll of your eyes, annoyed that you couldn’t even deny his statement. The book was awful, but Mary-Beth had told you it was one of her favorites, and you had needed a little escape, a little happy fantasy to dream about for a while. "It may be awful, but so what?"

“So what?” Arthur repeated your words in disbelief, nose crinkling up in what was almost disgust as he glanced down towards the book still clutched to your chest. “Don’t tell me you actually like this kind of nonsense. What’s so appealing about getting married to some tall, dark and handsome man?”

You bristled at the word choice, shifting the book into your arms as you crossed them tightly against your chest before biting back, "For your information, Mr. Morgan, some women like these books. They're an...escape. No man is nearly as tall, dark and handsome in real society."

Arthur made an unconvinced noise at the case you made, hand digging through his satchel for a cigarette, leaning over to strike a match on the bottom of his boot at the same moment you felt a fire igniting inside of you at the flick of his fingers, anger burning bright at his apparent indifference towards the case you were making.

“Is it truly so terrible to long for a marriage of love?” you asked, and there must have been something bleeding into your tone that caused Arthur to look back at you, hand holding the lit match pausing halfway to the cigarette perched between his lips before finally lighting it, shaking out the flame even as the one in your soul burned even brighter, hotter. “So many women are trapped into unhappy marriages that they're allowed to dream.”

He watched you silently for a moment, inhaling the smoke from the cigarette before pulling it from his mouth, head turning to blow it out away from your face even as he finally responded, “Well, they sure are dreamin’, then. Ain’t no perfect storybook ending waitin’ out there.”

The bitter tone he spoke the words with were a shock to your system, eyes widening as he gestured towards you with the lit cigarette and added in a voice not quite as hard, but just as disbelieving, something borderline accusatory, “Unless, of course, you’re buying it, Miss High Society. But you running with us now. And if you believe in that, then you’re more naïve than I gave you credit for.”

Any inkling of playfulness you may have felt faded quickly as your insides turned as cold as the steely way he used that nickname for you, with more resentment than you had heard from him before, and although you had always idly wondered if Arthur didn’t like you, in that moment you were fully convinced he actually did hate you.

And in that accusation of your past life, that insinuation of naivete when he didn’t know a damn thing about what it was, you hated him just as much.

“Right,” was all you muttered, closing off from him entirely as you shifted to move past him without another word. You were wasting your breath on somebody like Arthur Morgan, not knowing why you even tried to explain in the first place.

But even then, you saw a flicker of some emotion on his face before you walked by him, those rough features pinching in a way you didn’t recognize, but you kept walking even as you heard his voice call out after you followed by quick footsteps, “Miss Taylor—”

“There you two are!”

You stopped in your tracks as Dutch came striding right towards you, a wide grin plastered on his strong features that was directed first towards you, then sent towards the man you had just been trying to be rid of as he came to a slow stop beside you.

Dutch inserted himself between you and Arthur, patting you gently on the shoulder as he smacked the other hand between Arthur’s shoulders, jostling the younger man and eliciting a glare from him before squeezing both your shoulder and his with the words, “Got the perfect job lined up just for the two of you.”

Your mouth opened to protest in the same moment Arthur’s did, but you were both abruptly cut off from any words to say or even think as Dutch turned his head from side to side, offering a cunning little smirk before addressing you each in turn, “Mr. and Mrs. Callahan.”

taglist: @kmc1989 @5oh5 @vickie5446 @cupofjoel @joelsgreys

[qqtxt]

[🌸] i’m sorry w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / comfort fluff 🌸 ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 500 words for each member / altogether, word count: 1,340 words ✿ in which you’ve done or said something to hurt them and you try to reach out to apologise to them. (the reverse of ‘apology’) ✿ i enjoyed writing the first one, so this is what i imagine the reverse to be like! [masterlist 🌸] / other members under the cut! / @kflixnet​​ ✨​

again... being in a relationship meant that it takes two hands to clap; two to tango. in some scenarios, he’s the one messing up and saying something to spike a thorn in your chest. in others... today–right now–it was your wrongdoing of saying something that may have gone out of line to prick him in the heart. it wasn’t something big but... it was definitely hurtful. two days have gone by and it’s been quiet, too quiet for your liking (or his, but he won’t admit it).

[🐰] soobin  two knocks on his door and he knows who it is when no one is saying anything from the other end. the door squeaks open and he tries not to look as he remains seated on his bed, legs stretched out, back against the headrest and eyes stubbornly glued to the book he’s holding. it’s painfully obvious that he wanted to see you, to have you here but when you’re actually here, it looks like he’s conflicted. stepping in and closing the door behind you, it takes courage from within yourself to approach him slowly. it’s like approaching a wild animal; in fear that if you move too quickly, they’d dash off. being with soobin felt like that sometimes. the uncertainty scared him, and the way things moved too quickly has him in a blur so he appreciates that you’re being careful. when you reach close enough to him, you extend an arm out from behind your back to reveal that you have a packet of almond milk as a peace offering. upon laying eyes on it, and hearing your voice quietly saying i’m sorry, soobin-ah, he reacts faster than his mind can process it. peeling the drink from your hands, tossing it to the side and gripping your hand to lure you down onto him so he can hug you. he hated how you both know that him hugging you like this was to offer you comfort but in reality, he loved having you in his arms as a reminder that all was well again between the both of you.

[🦊] yeonjun a no-brainer that yeonjun would be in the dance practice room, nearly dancing his feet and soul away from the frustration he feels. he hadn’t even noticed that you were standing there, nearly giving him the fright of his life but... once that initial surprise dissolves, he hates how his heart blooms at the sight of you. yet, the reminder of what had happened, that he was left feeling hurt in the end, strikes back and it hits him in the chest that he turns away from you. his heart pounds in his chest hearing your footsteps approaching him in the quiet of the room with his music fading away. he feels a tap on his shoulder and he lifts his head up, meeting with your lowered gaze through the wall mirror in front of him. he intends to take his time but... he can’t. he can’t ever pretend like you don’t matter to him, so he doesn’t. never once has. his body ignores his plea from his mind and he turns around. his brows furrow when he sees you’re holding out a note to him. he glances up to your face for confirmation or a hint, but when he sees you’re remaining quiet, he takes your note and unfolds it to–his hard gaze softens at the feeble scribble of ‘i’m sorry, jun-ah. you mean the absolute world to me and i’m sorry. convenience store ramen? my treat. :)’ he looks up from the note to meet with your eyes this time, watching as your pupils tremble but seeing the light sparkle when he realises you’re smiling because he’s smiling.

[🐯] beomgyu beomgyu stubbornly remains looking at his computer screen, making no moves to pause the game even when he knows you’re right here next to him. his eyes snap shut when he feels torn at the way he knows you’re waiting for him to finish his game first before wanting to talk to him and how bloody selfish for you to be so selfless to think about that in a time where he wants to hate you? he bites the inside of his cheek and exhales deeply. your eyes peek at his screen to see that his character remains unmoving and you gasp when he lets his character die off. that cues him to remove his headset and put it down onto the table next to the keyboard. he still doesn’t say anything but to you, it was a green light to do what you came here to do. carefully, you move to stand behind his gaming chair so you can roll him back just enough for you to come around to sit on his lap. as you sink in his embrace and wrap your arms around him, the soft confession of i’m sorry, gyu-yah. beomgyu already knows it’s game over. “this is unfair,” he murmurs into your neck, arms circling around you tighter, “you made me lose that game. you owe me twice as much cuddles.”

[🐿] taehyun telltales of taehyun being in the studio became increasingly obvious when each stop, each place you’ve tried finding him proves that this has got to be where he’s at. you’re proven correct when you give the door a knock and the sounds of music seem to quiet down. twisting the door open, stepping in, you gently nudge the door to a close behind you. clearing your throat, hands behind your back, you fiddle with your fingers as you try to muster up the courage to speak as you stare at the back of his head, body slightly covered by the chair as his back faces you. what started out soft, gradually picks up in volume as you try to vocalise your apology. “i... tae, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i just–”you instinctively cut yourself off when he stands from his seat, turning around to face you. it’s like you’ve shrunk tenfolds watching as he takes the image of you in front of him. he heaves a deep sigh and spreads his arms out towards you, as if he’s beckoning you to come here. swallowing the lump in your throat, you drag yourself over until you enter his embrace and he immediately wraps his arms around you, clearly much better now that you’re here with him (and he is).

[🐧] kai kai stubbornly has his eyes shut even though he knows you know he’s not asleep just yet. his body reacts the second you step through the door that it takes every nerve in his being not to react (even if he wants to). he’s silent, clutching onto one of the plushies he’s held onto as he’s tried to sleep but... it’s to no avail when he shows slight movement to the sounds of you entering his room. he feels his bed dipping down a little, signalling to him that you’ve taken a seat by his side. he didn’t plan on turning to look at you but when he feels something else being pressed onto the side of his hip, he shifts in a way that he’s able to spot the molang plushie he’s got you a while ago, eyes meeting with yours briefly before he notices you’re using the plushie to cover your face. “y/n says they’re sorry, and that they miss you.” kai lets out a sigh and pushes away the plushie in his arms, then the molang covering your face. all he does is give you a small nudge and it gets you to lay down on top of him so he can curl his arms around you to bury you in his arms. it makes you sigh against his chest, arms crawling beneath the mattress so you can return the hug and he kisses the side of your head with a soft admission of i missed you. (and the way you hug him tighter with a nod confirms that you did just as much, too)

[cynicalrosebud]

Rumor Has It (13)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

CW: DARK CHAPTER, Violence, Torture Techniques, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Seizures; You Are Responsible For Your Own Media Consumption

Notes: It gets worse before it gets better.

The bastards held Rumor for two weeks.

The tension in the room was suffocating, a palpable weight pressing on the chests of everyone present. The 141 sat huddled around the flickering screen, hearts hammering in their chests as they waited for the feed to stabilize. The silence was thick, each second stretching like hours. Price’s jaw was clenched, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table, though his eyes never wavered from the screen. Ghost stood stiff as a board, his face hidden beneath the balaclava, but the telltale clench of his fist at his side betrayed his calm exterior. Soap's pacing had long ceased to calm him, and now his restlessness gnawed at him like a slow burn.

When the video feed sputtered to life, the weight only grew heavier.

Rumor was bound to a chair, his body slumped and bruised, blood smeared across his skin like war paint. The playful spark that usually danced in his eyes was dimmed, shadowed by exhaustion, though that infamous grin still tugged at his lips—barely. His shirt was torn open, and the cuts and burns on his chest spoke volumes of the torment he had endured. But despite it all, he smirked, teeth bloodstained and defiant.

"Fuck," Soap whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the static.

One of the captors, masked and towering over Rumor, grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back with a brutal jerk. The camera zoomed in on his face, every cut and bruise thrown into sharp relief. The captor’s voice, thick with a foreign accent, spat venom into the quiet. "Say something for your friends."

The knife dug into Rumor’s side, and the Welshman’s sharp intake of breath was heard even over the distance of the screen. But then, that smirk—broken, bloodied, but somehow still there. "This all you got?" he rasped, voice strained but mocking. "You’re slippin’. Could’ve sworn you’d be better at this… not your first time, yeah?"

The captor backhanded him, the crack of the hit echoing through the speakers. Rumor’s head snapped to the side, blood splattering onto the floor, but he just laughed—a hollow, ragged sound. "What, that all? Had worse from a sheep back home."

Soap stopped pacing. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Price’s eyes flickered with something darker, something far deeper than mere anger.

Rumor’s voice dropped lower, the defiance still there, but edged with something tired, something heavy. "To the 141… if you're watchin'—and I know you are—don’t come. Ain't worth the hassle. Might as well let these pricks finish me off. Make Nikolai jealous anyway…” 

Laswell’s face tightened, her lips pressing into a thin, disapproving line. “He’s goading them.”

Ghost didn’t respond, his gaze locked onto the screen, as if he could will Rumor to stop talking. But Rumor, ever the thorn in their side, pushed forward. "You hear that, Cap?" he addressed Price, voice wavering as the pain gnawed at him. "Told you, mate… never could stick around too long. Don’t… don’t waste your time on me."

A fist connected with Rumor’s face again, but he laughed through the blood dripping from his lips. “Honestly, mate. How’d you even get this job? Barely broke a sweat.” He chuckled darkly, blood trickling down the side of his face. "If this is how you treat your prisoners, no wonder your boss is always losing to us."

The screen flickered, cutting off as the captor yanked his head back again. But before it went black, Rumor’s voice came through one last time, broken but defiant. "Don’t… come."

And then, nothing.

For a long moment, no one moved, the silence in the room suffocating. Soap’s breathing was ragged, his fists trembling at his sides. Gaz swallowed hard, his face taut with barely restrained fury. Ghost was motionless, but the way his hand gripped his knife suggested violence restrained only by the thin veneer of control.

Price’s voice finally broke the silence, low and filled with a lethal promise. "Laswell… get us his location."

Laswell’s fingers flew across the keyboard, her expression unreadable. "I’m on it."

Ghost stepped forward, his voice a cold, steady whisper. "He thinks he’s not worth it." His eyes burned beneath the mask. "He’s wrong."

Soap’s voice was thick with barely contained anger. "Aye, he doesn’t get to decide that. He’s ours."

Price’s gaze swept across his team, his expression unreadable but for the storm brewing in his eyes. "We go in fast. No mistakes. No hesitation."

And they would.

The dim glow of the command room flickered as Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz gathered around the monitor. Laswell had just finished briefing them on the ransom demands, the grainy video of Rumor—beaten and bloodied—still burned into their minds. His defiance, even in the face of torture, had been the only reassurance in an otherwise hopeless situation. But as the screen went dark, a new alert pinged through their comms.

A message from the captors.

Price's jaw tightened as he opened the file. The room fell into a tense silence as the first image loaded, each pixel coming into sharp, horrifying focus.

Rumor was strung up by his wrists, his hands bound and tied to the ceiling, his body hanging limply. Deep red gashes marred his torso, blood dripping from wounds that looked fresh. His face was swollen, one eye nearly shut, the other just barely visible through the bruising. His head lolled forward, chin resting on his chest as if unconscious.

“Bloody hell…” Soap’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual bravado replaced with a tremor of rage.

Ghost stood to the side, silent as a shadow, his eyes locked on the image. His fists clenched, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. But he said nothing, his gaze hard, unreadable.

Another image followed, this time of Rumor on his knees, his arms still bound, but pulled behind him at an unnatural angle. His shirt was torn and bloodstained, and it looked like they had used a whip or baton on his back, leaving long, dark marks across his skin.

Gaz turned away for a moment, swallowing hard. "Bastards," he muttered under his breath. The pain in his voice was unmistakable.

Price’s face was carved from stone, his blue eyes colder than ever. He said nothing as the next picture loaded. This one showed Rumor hanging upside down, his ankles shackled to a metal bar, his arms dangling uselessly. The blood rushing to his head had turned his face a sickly shade of red, and his expression was one of sheer exhaustion, as though every breath was a struggle.

“Enough,” Price finally growled, cutting through the suffocating silence. His voice was low, filled with barely contained fury. “These bastards want to send a message. We’ll send them one right back.”

Soap slammed a fist into the table, his voice breaking through the tension. “We’ve gotta get him out. They’re killing him slowly.”

“We will,” Price responded, his tone decisive. “But we do this smart. We don’t let them know how close we are.”

Another ping sounded—a final image, this one more haunting than the others. Rumor was tied to a chair, his head forced back, his face turned towards the camera. They had dressed his wounds just enough to keep him alive, but the message was clear. His eyes were barely open, bruised and swollen, yet somehow still defiant.

“They’re sending these to get in our heads,” Laswell’s voice crackled through the comms, trying to ground them amidst the horror. “But we’re going to use this. Every detail they show, we can turn against them.”

Ghost exhaled, his voice low and cold. “We’ll make them pay.”

Price nodded, his focus unwavering. “Laswell, get the satellite coordinates ready. Soap, Gaz, I want you two on prep, contact Nik. We hit them hard, fast, and without mercy. Ghost,” his voice dropped a notch, “I need you on extraction.”

Ghost's eyes remained locked on the screen, staring at the final image of Rumor. “I’ll get him out.”

No one doubted him.

The room was silent, save for the occasional hum of the electronics, as another ping echoed through the comms. Price, already tense from the previous images, tapped to open the next file. His expression darkened as the photo loaded, filling the screen with yet another brutal snapshot of Rumor’s torture.

This time, Rumor was strapped to a table, his wrists and ankles bound tightly to the metal surface. His face was barely visible beneath a soaked cloth that clung to his skin, wet from repeated rounds of waterboarding. His chest heaved as he strained for air, the muscles in his neck taut with agony. Water dripped from the corners of the cloth, pooling on the table below, the excess running in rivulets down his beaten body.

Soap clenched his jaw so tightly that the muscle ticked beneath his skin. “Sick bastards.”

Gaz stood stock still, his eyes fixed on the screen as if unable to look away. “They’re trying to break him…” His voice was hollow, knowing full well that Rumor had likely been subjected to this again and again.

Ghost remained silent, standing slightly back from the others, but his hands were locked into fists, his knuckles white under his gloves. It took everything in him not to reach for his knife, as though some part of him wanted to start hunting the men responsible right that second.

Price’s finger hovered over the mouse, his lips pressed into a grim line as he forced himself to look at the image. Every fiber of his being wanted to tear his gaze away, but he needed to see it. Needed to feel the anger boil in his veins.

The cloth over Rumor’s face was soaked, his chest visibly struggling to expand against the panic of drowning. Water pooled around him, his body rigid, tortured breaths still fighting their way through. His captors had ensured every ounce of suffering was etched into the scene, the image meant to haunt his team, to remind them of what they couldn’t prevent.

“We’re getting him out,” Price’s voice was dark, guttural, barely masking the fury in his tone.

Laswell’s voice came through the comms again, steadier than the chaos surrounding her words. “They sent it to make you hesitate. Don’t.”

Ghost stepped forward, his voice colder than the night air outside. “They won’t get the chance to do it again.”

The building was a maze of shadows and narrow corridors, the tension mounting with every step the 141 took. The sounds of Rumor’s tortured breaths and agonized screams echoed through the halls, a sickening reminder of just how much time they’d already lost. Soap’s heart was hammering in his chest, the rage in him burning hotter with every anguished sound that reached his ears. He could feel Ghost at his back, a quiet storm of barely restrained violence.

Price’s jaw was set, his eyes forward, but Soap knew the fury simmered beneath his calm exterior. Gaz was silent, his face a mask of cold focus. They were a force, unstoppable and unwavering.

When they finally reached the room, the sight that greeted them was enough to freeze the breath in their lungs. Rumor was barely recognizable, his body limp, head hanging forward. The captors had fled, leaving behind nothing but the aftermath of their cruelty.

Soap was at Rumor’s side in an instant, his hands shaking as he fumbled to free him. "Hold on, bonnie lad. We’re here."

Rumor’s head lolled back, his eyes half-lidded, struggling to focus. "Told you…" he muttered weakly, his voice a mere whisper. "Told you not to come."

Price knelt beside him, his expression dark with a mixture of relief and anger. "You never did know when to shut up, did you?" His voice was tight, the anger cracking around the edges.

Ghost hovered behind them, his eyes fixed on Rumor’s injuries, the sharp lines of his face betraying his concern. "He’s lost too much blood."

Soap’s grip tightened on Rumor, his voice shaking. "Stay with us, Rumor."

Rumor managed a weak, crooked smile, his voice rasping. "Always were a stubborn… bunch of bastards, eh?" His head lolled back, and this time his voice broke. "Should’ve… stayed gone…"

Ghost knelt beside Rumor, his expression unreadable yet filled with a deep, quiet concern. He quickly assessed the bleeding, fingers pressing into the wound to gauge the severity. "He’s bleeding out fast," Ghost muttered, urgency creeping into his voice. "We need to move, now."

Gaz stood watch, eyes sharp and focused as he scanned their surroundings. “We’re clear for now,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “Let’s go.”

Without hesitation, Price and Soap carefully lifted Rumor, their movements deliberate but swift. Both men carried him with a mix of worry and fierce determination, aware of the ticking clock. As they navigated the building, Ghost brought up the rear, ever vigilant, his rifle poised for any threats.

Once they reached the helicopter, they laid Rumor in the back of Nikolai’s helo, his blood staining their uniforms. The air was thick with tension, mingled with the metallic scent. Price, his voice steady but laced with urgency, barked into his comms, “Laswell, we need medevac at the extraction point. Now.”

Laswell’s response was immediate. “Already on it. Hold tight, they’ll be ready.”

Soap’s hands pressed firmly over Rumor’s wound, his knuckles pale from the pressure. “Stay with us, Rumor,” he whispered, the tremor in his voice betraying his fear. “We’re almost there.”

Rumor stirred, barely opening his eyes. A weak smile tugged at his bloodied lips. “Should’ve stayed... at me dad’s pub...” he rasped, voice thick with pain. “Wouldn’t be in this mess…”

Ghost, crouching beside Soap, spoke low but with an unusual warmth. “You’re not going anywhere, mate. We’ve got you.”

As the helicopter blades sliced through the night sky, the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of Rumor’s injury. Inside, Soap continued applying pressure, his hands shaking as he fought to keep his friend stable. Price sat close, his gruff voice offering reassurances. "We’ll get you patched up, Rumor. Just hang in there."

Rumor’s eyes fluttered again, and he smirked faintly. “Didn’t think... I’d be in one of Nikolai’s rides... shirtless…”

Despite the situation, Soap chuckled weakly, though his eyes never left the wound. “Well, you’re one for surprises, aren’t you?”

Nikolai’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re nearing the extraction point. Medical’s standing by.”

The tension in the helicopter grew as Rumor’s breathing became shallow. Suddenly, his body jerked violently, limbs spasming uncontrollably.

“Shit!” Soap cried out, hands flying to keep Rumor from hurting himself. “He’s seizing!”

Ghost immediately moved to help, bracing Rumor’s thrashing body while Price looked on, his face a mask of grim determination. “Keep him on his side!” he ordered, his voice a calm command. “We can’t let him choke.”

Gaz quickly shifted Rumor into the recovery position, holding him steady as the seizure slowly subsided. Sweat glistened on Soap’s brow as he exhaled in relief, still trembling. “Come on, bonnie… stay with us.”

Price placed a hand on Soap’s shoulder. “He’ll make it. He’s tough.”

Nikolai expertly guided the helicopter to the base, the lights of the medical facility finally appearing on the horizon. "Almost there!" he called out.

The moment the helicopter touched down, the medics rushed to meet them. Rumor was swiftly moved onto a gurney, blood-soaked and barely conscious, and whisked away towards the emergency room. Soap, Ghost, and Price trailed behind, faces taut with concern.

Soap’s voice cracked, filled with desperation. “He’s gonna make it, right?”

The lead medic nodded briskly. “We’ll do everything we can. He’s in good hands now.”

Outside the hospital, the remaining team stood in silence. Price, Soap, Ghost, and Nikolai shared the same haunted expression, watching as Rumor disappeared through the doors. Minutes ticked by, each one heavier than the last, but they stood together, their bond unspoken yet unbreakable.

Nikolai, usually stoic, sighed. “He’ll be alright. He’s stronger than he looks.”

Price gave him a grateful nod. “Thanks for getting us here, Nik.”

The night settled around them, quiet except for the distant hum of medical machinery inside. Waiting for news, the team stood together, united in their hope for Rumor’s recovery.