#why would you cover it? what in the world

[felassan]

David Gaider on Fenris, under a cut for length:

"Fenris. Now, DA2 is a story all on its own but I'm not going to go there other than to sum it up as "we had just over a year and a half to make this". It's why I only wrote one follower, Fenris, and although it'll make his fans mad: I probably shouldn't have. Let me explain. The way we'd approach making the followers is brainstorming a list of concepts covering first the array of gameplay classes (and sub-classes) and then making sure they each have some skin in the game when it came to the story's conflicts - ideally having characters on both sides of the major ones. Why? You can't make a player care about the world, but you can make them care about characters who care about the world. It's the easiest way to provide hooks into a conflict, outside of it knocking on the player's door. Heck, it's probably better than that. Players will burn the world for approval. After that, we'd decide things like romances/sexuality. Then the writers would pick who they'd write. I always let my writers pick first. I figured they do their best work when it's something they're inspired to write... and they got so few chances at ownership, I wanted to give it whenever I could It's why I (reluctantly) let Patrick wrest Cole from my grasp in DAI, a character I'd created in Asunder. It's also why I let Jennifer take Anders in DA2, who I'd started in Awakening. In this instance, it meant I was left with the angry elven warrior character who nobody else appeared to want."

"It should have been my first clue that something was up. The second was how the artists had zero clue what to do with him. The art concepts were all over the place - from mages to crows to... well, even weirder. No matter how hard I tried to explain the idea, the artists simply didn't seem to get it Does this mean he was a bad character? Not exactly. Just an idea that probably deserved some re-examining. You can tell when an idea has a certain spark, and part of that is being easy to communicate. Sadly, there wasn't time for any re-examining even if it'd occurred to me. And it didn't, not yet. If it had, if I had time, maybe I'd have re-booted him as a templar. Someone pro-templar rather than anti-mage, who could give a personal hook into Meredith and give the templars some badly-needed humanity. But this falls into the shoulda-woulda-coulda category. I had a follower to write. Quickly. I struggled, at first. It was hard to get away from "Fenris hates everything, all the time". It felt very one-note, and I didn't know where to take him. My third clue, I guess. I also wasn't sure if I was the right person to write a former slave. I did know that couldn't be the center of his story. I did know trauma, however. How it can eat you up. How the hate and resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. How it can infect your relationships. Fenris's trauma isn't my trauma, obviously, but here I dipped into a more personal part of myself than I'd ever done before."

"It gave me the center of his story I was missing, but wow was it uncomfortable. In a good way, maybe. I likely wouldn't have, if I hadn't been so desperate. In a way, I think DA2 had some of our best writing *because* of the timeline. It was raw, with little time to sand down the interesting parts. I wouldn't have done the "Fenris doesn't talk to you for three years" thing if I'd known we were going to cut all the reactivity initially planned for the time jumps. When that call was made, I campaigned to cut the jumps to a year, but there was no time for the revisions it'd need. So, um. Awkward. I used to get asked where the name came from, and I... don't remember? Obviously it's derived from Fenrir, but I don't recall why we picked that. Someone pointed at Fenris the Feared from Joe Abercrombie's books... and I did read them, so maybe the name lodged in my head? Wouldn't be the first time. Casting Fenris turned out to be easy. He was the first time I requested a specific VA and got him. (The other times were Merrill and then Solas, my two "I want these specific Welsh actors, please".) Why? OK, if you must know, I'd played a bit of Final Fantasy XII. I heard Balthier. "Yes, that." 😅 And Gideon Emery was a delight, as it turned out. Consummate professional, and that lovely gravel in his voice... good god. Bite the knuckles. There was a struggle to find the voice at the outset where I did my best not to say "just pls do Balthier" but he found Fenris on his own and it was amazing. Overall, Fenris turned out better than he had any right to, considering the rocky start. He had a lot of soul, a vulnerability forged by pain that struck a chord with a lot of players, and I'm glad. Do I regret anything? Probably having him live in a corpse-filled mansion that would never update. That's a hindsight thing, though, as again the cut to reactivity over the time jumps came late. Outside of that, maybe letting the player give him back to Danarius? Poor shock value and a waste of resources because almost nobody took the option. Good evil options are ones that are tempting to take. And the lyrium tattoos. Interesting concept, but they're probably why you'll never see Fenris in a future DA. He requires a custom body, and the tattoos make that expensive. It's why I put Fenris in my 4th DA novel - the cancelled one. Don't fret, though. He died in it, so this way he lives on. 😉"

[source thread]

User: "Wait wait how does he die in [the cancelled novel]??" David Gaider: "Gloriously, after taking up a cause he didn't believe in at first but then made his own, one that allowed him to rediscover what it meant to be elven." [source] David Gaider: "I’m not sorry about the novel cancellation. I’m the one who cancelled it. I am kinda sad we couldn’t make it work, though. Considering it was after I left the DA team, it would have been my final DA hurrah." [source] David Gaider: "From my perspective, it was kind of "well if you're never going to use him again, let me at least give him a proper send off" and the story required a glorious death... but I get that's not the story his biggest fans would want (which is Hawke + Fenris 4ever), so it's just as well." [source]

User: "You all did some incredible work with such a tight deadline" David Gaider: "I'm of the opinion that even if we'd had only another six months to bake, DA2 would be remembered as a classic and not either a flawed gem or underbaked sequel, depending on who you ask." [source]

[livelaughloveluffy]

idk but I just feel like luffy, ace, sanji (obviously lol) zoro, and law would have a thing for plus size reader, who is sweet and naturally gets along with almost everyone but can also be a bit naive

plus size reader - monster trio, ace, law, and eustass

a/n: thank you so much for the request!!! it's definitely something that has fallen in my inbox before and i would love to write about it because i totally agree that these men would loveeeee plus size women 😌 (i'm 100% biased but shhhhhh lets not talk about that) i definitely took some creative liberty while writing this so i hopefully you enjoy!!

a/n: in typical fanfic writer fashion, i'm like actually so miserably sick right now, i have a really bad cough, my head hurts so bad, i feel super hot, and i can't even take cold medicine because of my antidepressants 😭😭😭 so if i start to not make sense, thats why 😭😭

nothing but fluff here 💗

---------------------------------------------------------------------

monkey d. luffy

-he's such a cuddly baby. luffy will 100% wrap his arms and legs around you, like a little koala, burying his face in the crook of your neck. he just wants all of you, all the time.

-the captain of the straw hats never ceases to amaze you with his strength as he often picks you up with such ease to either hold you close to him, with your legs wrapped around his waist, or to throw you over his shoulder, carrying you around the thousand sunny without a care in the world. luffy typically picks you up when he's extra excited to see you, needing to have you as close as possible. his grip on your body is always so tight, over his dead body would he ever let you fall.

-luffy refuses to believe that you don't see the beauty in yourself. his eyes widen in pure shock when he overhears you talking about your insecurities with nami. since that day, whenever you hear the captain talk about you, it's always with the phrase "the prettiest girl alive", with the widest smile on his face.

-he just can't help but constantly cover you with kisses. luffy is so proud to be able to have you, and he will happily shout from rooftops about his love for you, so shame about pda is absolutely nonexistent. it's a frequent occurrence for the captain to run up to you, smother you in kisses, and then run off to his other shenanigans.

roronoa zoro

_he's so proud to have you. when the two of you are together, he shows you off as if you're the shiniest trophy. his arm tightly intertwined with yours as the two of you hold hands walking the town of a new island. the green-haired boy always wants you as close to him as humanly possible, your bodies are always pressed next to each other, as if you were glued together, when side by side.

-zoro, who can pick you up with ease. when you are hugging him, he'll lift your feet off the ground, arms tight around your waist and spin you, only to then throw you over his shoulder like its nothing, taking you back to his bed. in a similar vein, he also often asks you to help him train, practically begging you to sit or lay on his back as he does hundreds of push-ups with ease. even if you try to protest and say you're too heavy, he'll scoff and pull you in for a tight hug. then picks you up and puts you on his back, making you cross your legs around his waist, and begin his training anyways.

-he's extra protective with you. especially when you two are exploring a new island, his hand is tightly gripping your waist as you walk side by side, and if you ever ask him why he'll turn to you and reply "just need to let everyone know you're mine." with the faintest hint of a growl in his voice. glares at anyone who dares to look your way for too long.

-the swordsman who is infatuated with your love handles. whenever you are just standing somewhere on the sunny, he'll come up behind you and grab your hips, pulling your body back into him. he'll rest his chin on your shoulder and when you ask him what he's doing he'll just reply with a simple "mmm, just missed you." drinking in the closeness of your presence.

black leg sanji

-the way this man is absolutely obsessed with curvier women. sanji constantly tells you how much of a goddess you are "mon amour, you're even more beautiful than aphrodite herself."

-the curly-browed blonde worships you and your body. when you are in only a bra and underwear in front of him, he takes his time to admire the absolute work of art you are. getting on his knees to stare up at you, placing his hands one on each of your thighs, working his way up to your stomach and hips, kissing along where his hands had just been. this becomes a ritual for him. he absolutely refuses to do anything more serious before getting to take his time adoring and worshipping you.

-sanji is constantly reminding you of how beautiful you are. he's saying it loudly, whispering it in your ear, and everything in between. you hear compliments from him a minimum of 100 times a day, and with the way his eyes widen and sparkle, you can tell how much he truly means it.

-he's genuinely heartbroken if he every found out that you didn't like your body or if you feel a bit insecure. sanji's eyes suddenly well up with tears as he explains that it hurts him to the core that you would see yourself so completely opposite to the way he sees you, "you're utterly ethereal, mon cheri. a work of art too perfect for this world." and he'll do anything to prove how much he means it. he'll leave gentle and delicate kisses all over your body and skin for hours, murmuring praises under his breath the entire time.

portgas d. ace

-ace was absolutely loud and proud about how attractive he found you from the very first time he laid his eyes on you. his gravely voice could be heard shouting across the moby dick "lookin' good, gorgeous." with the widest smile.

-the freckled boy will slide his hands up under your shirt, gently moving them up and down your hips and torso. ace has a carnal need to feel your skin, and there's nothing he loves more than getting to rest his hands on your stomach, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and leaving kisses down your neck as he does so.

-he loves to grab your ass. at first, ace tried to be subtle about it, starting by resting his hand on the smalls of your back, and slowly letting it fall lower until he reached your ass, and waiting a little bit before giving it a gentle squeeze. but as time progressed, he got more bold and unabashed about this form of pda, he's totally unbothered by the stares of the other crewmembers of the whitebeard pirates, returning their looks with the smuggest smile you've ever seen.

-ace will never let you forget how stunning you are. whenever he gets the chance, he'll be whispering in your ear about how gorgeous you are, how he's never seen anyone as beautiful as you, how he's so lucky to have you, and many other similar sentiments.

trafalgar water d. law

-like luffy, law is a lot more cuddly with you. often teleporting to stand right behind you, wrapping his arms around the center of your torso, pulling you close into him, his voice whispering in your ear "hi, beautiful." he always has a hand on you, whether it's on your thigh, your back, intertwined with your own hand, he simply can't resist you. the cruelest form of torture to the captain is not being able to touch you.

-praise galore. the captain is always finding subtle ways to praise you, trying to casually slip his compliments in during conversations. law often address you as "beautiful" or "my pretty girl", making it rare to hear your name slip from the law's lips.

-law is also extremely protective over you. his sharp eyes and stinging glare shoots at anyone who looks at you in a way he doesn't agree with. his hand holding onto your waist, pulling you close into him, with your head resting against his shoulder is law's ideal way to walk side by side with you.

eustass captain kid

-he's soooo loud about how attractive he finds you. it's an every day occurrence for you to hear the red-haired captain shout "oi, hot stuff, come bring your fine ass over here!" across the deck of the victoria punk. it's more common for kid to call you "hot stuff" or "doll" than it is for him to use your actual name, to the point that when you hear the captain using your name rather than a pet name, you genuinely think you're in trouble.

-eustass is so touchy. he literally cannot get enough of you, his large metal hand is always grabbing your ass or your hip, with his other hand running all over the side of your body. he's also not above leaving red lipstick stains all over your neck (and chest if you're wearing a top with a lower neckline). he leaves zero room for anyone to question who you're with.

-kid is obsessed with throwing you around, he's constantly picking you up and carrying you around the victoria punk. he'll put you up on his shoulders, loving the way your thighs squeeze around his head. throwing you over his shoulder, metal hand on your ass to make sure you don't slip. holding you by your waist with your legs wrapped around his. it's rare for you to be with eustass and for him to not be carrying you, its like second nature to him. and this man gets so fussy if you want to be put down. softly growling in your ear "make me.." while tightening his grip on you, refusing you to wiggle free from his grasp.

-the red-haired captain is genuinely angry if he hears you, or anyone else, talk poorly about you. nothing pisses him off faster than hearing untrue statements about the love of his life. the piercing glare he'll shoot your way if you start to talk down to yourself could kill. eustass will pull you close to him, whispering in your ear, the slightest hint of a growl in his gruff voice as he says "let me show you just how beautiful you are."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

tags ♡: @3v37773 @twiishaa @dindjarins1ut @thepotatocatto @peachycat17 @irethepotato @dreamcastgirl99; want to join the taglist? click here!

a/n: i really struggled finishing this because it's lowkey hard to think straight with my head pounding but you'll have to pry my laptop out of my cold dead hands if you think i'm going to let being sick stop me from writing some fanfic 😌

a/n: also sorry for cutting law's part a little short, i literally can't look at my computer any longer 💀

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[ihrthoney]

you know me

pairings: arkham knight!jason todd x f!reader

warnings: fluff! some mentions of what happened to him in the asylum

word count: 1.9k

an: i hope you guys like it 😅 part 1

Jason had told you he would disappear for a few days, he said he would explain when he came back and until then to quit your job and not leave your house. Before leaving, he gave you a device and told you he would beep it three times to signal you that he was outside of your apartment. 

The night he held you was the only time he had let you so close to him. When you parted to wash your face, he made it clear he wanted to keep a distance between you two. Whenever you walked towards him he would take a step backwards, it stung but you can understand why, the mark on his face was a sign that whatever happened to him was bad. 

The last thing he told you before returning to the shadows was to start packing. Your mind told you he wasn’t the same and that you should be asking questions instead of blindly following him. Yet, the only thing you’ve ever wanted for the past few years was him. Nothing was going to stop you from following him, not even him. 

-

Meanwhile, Jason was at a loss on what to do. Seeing you brought back fond and awful memories. His memory was tainted with the bad things that have happened to him, his childhood, the in-between and the after. But you, you were like a firefly in the quiet meadow, a temporary relief before the world burned around him.

He had been questioning what he should do with you, where his feelings for you still lie. As of right now, he just wants to keep you safe. There’s a battle in his mind, he can’t decide whether he’s happy that you stayed and waited for him or if he should call you foolish for not getting out of Gotham, for putting yourself in danger. The former thought is winning, his heart thumps at the thought of still being remembered as Jason and not the failed robin.

Memories of your time together flash in his mind as he makes his way back to your place; he recognizes the apartment, it’s the one you two planned to move into. You were the one thing he wouldn’t let anyone touch, not then and definitely not now. He can’t ever be the person you so wholly loved but he wants to be someone you can learn to love. 

There are a lot of risks with that, you’d be a constant target, he’d have to either go with you anytime you went in public or simply have whatever you wanted delivered by someone else. The life you had before will be no more, he’s selfish but he hopes you don’t mind.

-

It’s about 3am in the morning when you hear the device beep, you respond back with the code he gave you then go to your window to open it for him (you have a feeling he could open it just fine.)

The night he was in your apartment, he was in all black clothes, now he’s in front of you covered head to toe in thick armor. The suit makes your window seem so fragile, the living room looks much smaller too. 

He clicks his helmet off and gently sets it on the floor, “Are you ready to go?” You can’t tell whether it’s a question or a statement but by the way he’s looking at you, you’re going to guess he’s telling you. 

“Am I allowed to ask where?” He follows you as you check the place for any belongings you may have missed, his heavy footsteps follow you, even in the armor he’s quiet. “A safehouse. Somewhere outside of the city.” After making your rounds, sad you two couldn’t occupy the space, you turn to face him, “Will you be there too?”

The question catches him off-guard, unused to being thought of. Despite the hardness to his eyes, how tense his posture is, the way he speaks to you was like before, gentle and soft. Under all the pain, he was a sweet boy.

To you, he will always be your sweet boy.

“Of course.”

-

Given the time, you fell asleep in the car, waking up in your bed but a different room. It takes a bit to remember the events that have happened. Moving the blankets off of you, you make your way around the safehouse. The layout is similar to your old apartment, it’s comforting but makes you question how he was able to find a place with the same format. 

A click of a door makes you turn and you see Jason in the clothes you saw him in the night he visited you, “I got you some food, we should talk.” 

He places down multiple containers with different food’s inside and a large cup of coffee from your favorite cafe. He remembered. Jason makes his way to sit across from you, a breakfast serving only for one so you ask to which he replies that he already ate. 

Still, like before, you offer him a plate of a little bit of everything in case he’s hungry again or lying about his eating habits. You’re careful to not treat him like nothing happened but not as a stranger either, it’s a strange middle you’re still trying to understand.

“We’ll talk after you eat.” He doesn’t touch the food you offered him but you hope the thought reaches him all the same. There’s a part of you that hopes your boyfriend is still there considering that you were tucked in bed in a new change of clothes, but he keeps you more than an arm’s length away. 

It should be uncomfortable, the way he watches you eat, the man before you is bigger, face sharper, still handsome. His eyes never left you even as you moved to put any leftovers away. Grabbing him a glass of water, you sat in front of him once again. 

“What would you like to know first?” As quick as the movement was, you saw the way his gaze flickered to the side then back up, “Anything you’re comfortable with telling me.”

The ache in his chest comes back, you were his sweetness, you still are and it hurts him to be near you. You were all he dreamed about, amongst other things, when he was trapped in that wing. Words can't explain how relieved he was that the Joker could not touch you or taint your image, you were so dear to him. 

“I followed.. him.. to Arkham’s Asylum, specifically an abandoned wing.” His beautiful eyes no longer looked into your own, instead focusing on the way your fingers fidget, “For almost two years I was tortured.. tied to a chair, hung up by the arms.. I know you saw the scar. There are things I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say out loud… I just wanted him to kill me.”

There’s a pause before he continues, “For months I waited for Batman, I refused to believe he forgot about me, that he replaced me but when I saw that picture.” Silence envelopes the room, it’s thick and he doesn’t say anything for a while, you also knew better than to say anything about how bad Batman’s grief actually was.

Your hand moves to hold his, to comfort him in any way but you’re afraid to push him into silence, but your hesitation is for naught as he grabs your hand and interlinks your fingers together, quietly he says, “I dreamt of you.” The words make you move your gaze from your intertwined hands to his eyes. 

“I missed you so much, yn.” His voice cracks and he looks away, Jason tries to pull his hand from yours but you squeeze them tighter together, “I thought about you every single day, Jace. Not a second went by when I wasn’t thinking of you.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I’m not the same person.” Quickly you replied, standing up from the chair and moving to his side of the table, “I don’t expect you to be, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” It seems to be the wrong answer as he stands from the chair and creates space between you two, arms crossing against his chest, “It should! I can’t- We can’t be together, there’s no point!”

It’s a lie, he’s lying, he can’t accept that you love him like it’s easy, like his whole existence isn’t filthy. This was bad, he shouldn't have seen you, “I’m not sorry that I love you, I never will be. I don’t care that you’ve changed, you are still the most important person to me! I will do anything for you.” Your voice is soft but stern, you need him to hear you. 

As much as you want to, you don’t approach him, you’re just happy he opened up to you at all. There’s obviously more than happened to him, more than just physical abuse. You have to be smart and careful not to treat him like he’s fragile because your Jason is anything but. He’s the strongest person you know and you’re here to help him feel loved and supported. 

Blue eyes analyze your body language, watching your chest move, the way your fingers slightly shake, “Why.. Why do you still love me?” His knees give out and he falls to the floor, you’re quick to move towards him in case he falls completely, so you opt to sit just a couple steps away. 

“How can I not love you? Even if you hadn’t come back I would have still loved you. You are my lifeline Jason.” You’ve never been a liar, not once had he ever doubted you, even now, as different as he looks you still followed his every word. Not once did you care to think he would have poisoned your food or this safehouse itself could have been a trap; Yet you followed him anyway. Why?

“You can’t possibly look at me and still love it.” Jason can barely stand to look at his own reflection, it’s starting to frustrate him that you supposedly see past the scars and accept him. It can’t be that easy, it shouldn’t be.

He doesn’t realize he said the last thing out loud, “Loving you is the easiest thing in the world, Jaybee.” A scoff falls from his lips at the nickname, and if you didn’t know him any better you would’ve missed the teeny tiny smile that appeared on his lips. 

“Whatever is running through that head of yours, I’m going to need you to tell me, okay? Maybe not now, or tomorrow or even the day after that but I’m always going to be here for you in any way that I can. I have all the time in the world with you around, I promised you then and I promise you now, I will always be right by your side.” 

The ache in his chest is back, he feels his heart beating so fast, without thinking much he reaches towards you and holds you to his chest like the night he first saw you again. Only this time he cradled your body so close to his own, you were sideways which meant you got to hear the pounding of his heart. His hands weaved through your hair and if you felt his tears drip onto your hair you ignored it. 

You can learn to love him just as you did before. 

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

taglist for those who commented :) @fanficwritersworld @jasonsbaby @princessesgarden @anime-potato-san @ravensandmysterae

[genderqueerdykes]

its extremely important, i would say even vital to learn about queer history. do not use what i'm about to say as an excuse to ignore our history, however i feel like i need to point something out, because i get a lot and i mean a LOT of questions asking if there are books written on every single queer identity and i have to point out that while it's extremely important to try to look to the past for validation in the present, it's also extremely important to realize that not every single queer experience has to have a long well documented history in order for it to be seen as "valid"

in many places in the world, even writing about being queer can be grounds for being jailed or killed. it's not always safe or practical to publish books, zines, or other written works when it comes to various queer identities. even in places where it is safe, not every single identity is going to be covered and written about. not every queer person feels the desire to write about their experience and not every queer person wants to be immortalized for being queer. this is extremely important to consider

also, queerness is based in identity. identity does not need empirical evidence in order to be legitimate. it may not be easy to find books on certain identities, but that doesn't mean they're not real. as important as it is to refer to books and the writings by other queers, it's also extremely important to not leverage literacy and the ability to publish books and/or zines against certain people and identities. just because there aren't books or comics or poems written about certain identities doesn't mean you can't view them as legitimate.

queerness is not like a scientific theory. it does not need to be proven. it does not need evidence. you do not have to prove that other queer people of the same identity exist in order for your identity to be valid. do NOT use this as an excuse to refuse to learn about queer history, but also do not look down on queer people whose identities don't have books written about them, either. remember that queerness is illegal in many, many places in the world. not every experienced can be published and written about. that's okay.

basically what i'm trying to say is don't use a lack of written records to dismiss certain queer identities or even misgender people. that person's anecdotes, that person's stories are still worth listening to. it doesn't matter that you personally haven't heard of other people identifying that way. don't use books and literature against individual queers. don't weaponize the lack of published work against people with complex or niche identities. having books and sources to refer to is an incredible resource, but that's not why they're there. they're not there so you can refer to them and go "a-hah, this is irrefutable proof that x group of queer people don't exist!" they're there so you can learn about some of the beautiful experiences humanity has to offer.

queer literature and history is important, but just because we don't have proof of something being reflected in the past doesn't mean it's not legitimate in the present. there were periods in time before these books and records that we refer to were published. it doesn't mean the people who came before these works weren't queer, and that their identities weren't legitimate. there have always been queer people as long as humans have existed and it's honestly very shitty to spit in the faces of everyone who came before the common sources we have to refer to today. they were still queer even if they had no books to refer to. queerness is not a science. it's okay to accept someone even if they can't provide you with piles and piles and piles of proof that their identity should be allowed to exist.

you don't necessarily need a "source" to prove that queer identities exist. the "source" is humanity. the "source" is lived experience. don't ever stop learning about our history, but don't use a lack of written records against other queer people. it helps no one. thanks. hope that made sense.

[kvroomi]

it's 9 o'clock in the evening when atsumu barges into your bathroom while you're taking off your makeup

“hey, babe, yer phone’s charged, right?”

his voice breaks through the quiet hum of your evening, pulling your attention away from the bottle of moisturiser you'd been trying to open for the past 5 minutes. you glance up to find him leaning in the doorway. his black dress pants and light blue button-up are long gone, now replaced with a large white t-shirt and his obnoxious 'world's best setter' boxers that he must've left in the dresser you bought for him when he started staying over more often.

“yeah, why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

he holds up his phone with an exaggerated sigh, the screen dark. “mine’s dead." he sighs and you look at him confused.

"i was gonna call ‘samu—messaged me somethin’ about the shop. think he forgot to order noodles or… or whatever. can i borrow yours for a sec?”

you furrow your eyebrows, skepticism creeping in. atsumu wasn’t exactly known for prioritizing osamu’s last-minute “emergencies” unless they directly concerned him. “can’t you just use the landline?”

“the landline?” he places a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“what am i, a fossil?" you turn your gaze back to the mirror with a roll of your eyes.

"c’mon, babe, it’ll only take a minute. please?”

you stare at him and he stares back, the two of you locking eyes in a silent standoff. atsumu, for all his dramatics, was never great at hiding when he was up to something.

alas, as much as you wanted to pry, you also didn’t have the energy to argue over something so trivial when it was so late into the day.

“okay,” you breathe out, followed by a long sigh as you hand your phone over.

“just don’t mess with anything.” your eyes narrow threateningly.

“mess with things? me?” he shakes his head around, feigning shock. “never. yer phone’s in the safest hands imaginable.”

that already should’ve been your second red flag—though before you can even question him, he's got his back turned halfway out the door yelling “thanks, babe! yer the best!” over his shoulder.

a brief fifteen minutes have passed, which you only vaguely realise in the haze of beginning your book. you're comfortably tucked into the corner of the couch when he strolls into the living room. plopping your phone onto the cushions beside you and pressing a quick, warm kiss to the top of your head—he pokes your cheek.

“yer a lifesaver,” he says with a grin, flopping down beside you. “what would i do without ya?”

you offer him a glance, “what did osamu need?”

“huh?” you notice his grin falter. it's a split millisecond, but he's quick to cover it with a casual wave of his hand. “oh, somethin’ about… rice.”

you squint at him, trying to read his face. “i thought you said noodles earlier?”

“rice, noodles—same difference,” he says, getting up and walking over to the fridge to pull it open. “food stuff... y’know how he is.”

you let out a hum, satisfied with his answer. and just like that, the moment passes. your attention is drawn back to your book while atsumu rifles through leftovers.

it isn't until later that night when you're climbing into bed and reaching for your phone to set your alarm that you notice. the screen lights up, and instead of your usual photo of cherry blossoms, you're greeted by him—a photo of atsumu.

and it's not just any photo of atsumu, though. this one was pure chaos.

his entire face filled the frame, nose slightly scrunched, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, and his golden-brown eyes wide with faux innocence. his lips were puckered in an over-the-top kissy face. across the bottom of the image in bright, white text were the words: “miss me yet, babe? ;)”

your jaw drops.

“what the—?” you're immediately sitting up and unlocking your phone, going straight into your photo gallery. what you find only makes your disbelief grow, (and maybe your heart too, out of fondness).

the first photo was relatively tame: a selfie of atsumu sprawled out on the couch with his head sitting in his hand with a cheeky and flirty smile. of course, you think.

the second was him in the doorway of the living room with his finger pressed to his lips in a "shh" gesture while you sat on the couch, engrossed in your book.

and then things get progressively more ridiculous, (assuming that's even possible).

there's a close-up of atsumu holding up your favorite snack with an inflated, brash grin, almost as if he was offering it to you. the caption reads: “this one's for you, babe."

another captured him perched on your desk chair, holding your pencil like it was a quill. his nose is scrunched again, an attempt to portray his concentration as he pretends to scribble something brilliant.

it's the final photo that stops you in your tracks.

it's atsumu stood on the balcony, wrapped in your favorite blanket like a superhero while his arm stretched dramatically toward the sky. the caption read: “protector of this household and defender of snacks ;)”

you stare at the screen in silence, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. quite frankly, you couldn't tell whether you wanted to laugh or cry.

atsumu was many things: he was ridiculous, he was almost always over the top, and he was also occasionally the most infuriating person you’d ever met. but, there was one thing for certain—he was undeniably, wholeheartedly yours.

many people don't understand him the way you do. atsumu hadn’t just messed with your phone for the sake of it—he’d left you a trail of love notes that were neatly tucked behind each photo’s absurdity. it was his way of saying "i’m here, even when i’m not," without actually saying the words verbally.

and it worked.

you didn’t text him right away. instead, you curled under the blankets, scrolling through the photos again and again. your heart swelled with every outlandish caption, every childish expression, every trace of him.

eventually, you couldn’t help yourself.

you: you’re a menace.

his reply was almost instant: atsumu: a menace with a pretty face, though. miss ya, babe x

you beamed, your thumb hovering over the lock screen settings, conflicted between whether or not you should switch back the photo. though how could you? not when you already knew tomorrow would bring another excuse for him to check your phone again, just to see if you’d kept it.

so you decide to leave it—his face on your lock screen as a proud display of the world’s most unconventional love letter.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[alexanderwales]

Zombie fiction has a problem, which is that in the real world, zombie fiction exists.

So you have two basic approaches: either you have the protagonists and general public say "what's happening, why are the dead rising, I got bit but I'm going to be fine", or you have the protagonists say "this is so weird, it's just like in all that zombie fiction!"

These are both annoying in their own way, but I find the latter approach to be more deeply irritating, personally, the kind of meta that's just lazy and overdone in spite of not having been done all that often.

This is a problem that notably doesn't exist in most other genres. People go to look up vampires on their computer all the time, and they say "wait, the legends are true??", and the vampire says "I did not like our depiction in Nosferatu very much". This is totally fine, the legends bled into popular culture or whatever. But zombie fiction is among those that can't do this, because it's a different kind of story, and there's no hiding it, no covering it up. If zombies were in any way real there would be mandatory training on how to kill them and CDC warnings and structural responses, which does substantially take away from the genre.

Now, would I read a zombie story that took place in a world where zombie outbreaks were a semi-regular occurrence with policies and procedures and discourse and training? Yeah, I guess, if it was well-written. But most of the long-running zombie stories get there eventually, once all the survivors have been doing the survival thing, and I can think of a few examples. It's hard to get right, much harder than the "what is happening, what is this" sort of story.

[fanbasetwo]

first time w anton? virgin anton x virgin reader?

IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙂

✦ BABY GIRL, 143 ! ANTON

001. PAIRING , virgin anton × virgin reader

002. SYNOPSIS , anton had been away from you for some months and now when he was back, you showed him all the texts you had seen on his phone. only ending up sealing the deal at the end.

003. GENRE , smut

004. WARNING(S) , kissing, a little dirty talk but anton is just shameless lol, teasing, pussy slapping, little to no prep, boob play, nipple play (slightly), they make up pretty early after fight, hymen breaking, mentions of blood and pain, too much plot if you ask me, lmk if I missed anything.

005. WORD COUNT , 1.8K

MASTERLIST!! join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

You had been dating Anton for a few years now. You met through a dating app, and while some might find that odd, you both clicked instantly. For better or worse, you fell in love.

Since you started dating at a young age, you both decided to seek job opportunities outside of town, which meant navigating a long-distance relationship. While many say long-distance relationships often fizzle out, that wasn’t the case for you two.

In fact, Anton would send you those silly memes that made you laugh and would video call you while cooking, asking for your advice if he messed something up. His friends teased you, saying you two were practically a married couple, and while there was some truth to that, the more accurate reality was that you both missed each other terribly.

So when he finally returned after landing a high-paying job—while you worked part-time as a cashier to cover rent—he insisted on paying your rent, but you turned him down.

The relationship seemed perfect, especially with his visit after what felt like two long years apart. But everything changed when you accidentally glanced at his phone. A text from a number with a heart emoji as a name read, “Is my baby fine?” In that moment, the realization hit you hard: the person you thought was your boyfriend was cheating on you.

“SO YOU CHEATED?!” you shouted as soon as you heard him enter the apartment. Anton, always the goofy one, jumped back in surprise at your furious tone and asked, feigning ignorance, “I’m not sure what you're talking about.”

“The message!” you ground out through clenched teeth, pointing at his phone, which he had mistakenly left behind.

As understanding seemed to dawn on him, he cursed under his breath and then smiled, which only confused you more. Why was he smiling? Shouldn’t he be trying to explain himself? Did those years together not mean anything to him?

Then he stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back until your back hit the wall of your apartment. His hands cupped your face as he said, “Hmm… Why would you trust the text so much? The ‘baby’ wasn’t me. The ‘baby’ was her dog, the one she asked me to take care of for a while.”

You didn’t buy it, so you pressed on, “Oh really? Then why does her username have a heart?”

He paused for a moment but answered without hesitation, even though you glared at him. “Well, maybe because that’s my mom?”

Processing that, your eyes widened. It actually made a sick sort of sense. The woman in the profile picture looked significantly older and bore some resemblance to Anton. Now you found yourself in a strange situation, filled with doubt.

You had just confronted your longtime boyfriend, your heart racing at the thought of betrayal, all sparked by a simple text while he gently held your face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I’m hurt, but I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you. I could never cheat on you, Y/N,” he reassured, resting his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin anchoring you in that moment.

It took you back to when your love was fresh and innocent, when you were just seventeen, lost in each other’s world. Those years apart felt like an eternity, and as you closed your eyes, you longed for the sweetness of his touch, the electric thrill of his lips on yours.

The kiss deepened, a beautiful melody played by your lips as you moved together in perfect sync. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath before diving back in, his tongue tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down your spine.

You felt the rhythm of your tongues entwining, a lovely exploration you had only ever dreamed of. You had talked about waiting for one another, yet now you felt the exhilarating unknown of your connection. His hands traveled up your shirt, igniting tingles on your skin, and as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, the world around you faded away.

“Can I touch you more?” he asked, his hands gliding under your shirt as he looked at you with such intensity and love, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. The truth was, both of you were a bit inexperienced in this area, but let’s be honest, you both wanted to explore… so you nodded.

Before long, his hands were cupping your breasts beneath your shirt and bra. He was touching your bare skin. You could feel both of your breaths hitching; it was something new for the two of you after all.

You feel Anton's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I can... really touch, right?" he murmurs, looking for your confirmation before pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss deepens, sending tingles through your body.

When you nod, he breaks the kiss, and his hands move with a swiftness that takes your breath away. Your shirt and bra are discarded in one smooth motion, leaving your bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. His thumbs find your nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds until they harden into tight peaks. You can't help but let out a soft moan as waves of pleasure wash over you, your back pressed firmly against the wall.

Suddenly, you're airborne as Anton scoops you up in his arms, cradling you securely against his chest. A warm feeling envelops you, and you can't help but wish that at least one of you had some experience with this. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he lays you down gently on the bed.

"Yeah, but..." you trail off, a hint of nervousness creeping into your tone. "Do you know how to...? At least one of us should know what we're doing."

Anton crawls on top of you, his powerful body hovering over yours. He leans down, planting a soft kiss between the valley of your breasts before looking up at you from between them. A sheepish grin spreads across his face. "I may have watched some... for scientific purposes, of course," he adds with a playful wink.

His arousal is evident, a hardened bulge straining against the fabric of his pants. It brushes against your jeans, sending shivers through both of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as Anton unbuttons his pants, the sound of fabric sliding against fabric filling the room. He discards them on the floor, along with your own jeans, the cool air brushing against your now bare skin. His large hand envelops your smaller one, guiding it towards his clothed bulge. You both hitch a breath as your fingers make contact, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

"See what you do to me?" he whispers, his voice low and husky with need. You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest as he pushes his boxers down, and you see him, all hard and long, your eyes widening as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks at the exposed sight of him, vulnerable to you.

"Baby, you wanna put it in or do I?" he asks, unapologetic and direct, his tone incredulous. You squirm under him and look away, embarrassment exuding like a palpable scent.

"That's not quite. decent," you mumble, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Anton chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "For what we're about to do, I don't think we should care about being decent," he says with a raised brow and a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as your clothes join his on the floor.

Again, his hand bumps against yours to move it to his bare cock. You can feel every ridge and vein beneath your fingertips, the heat of his skin searing against your own. Your shyness returns, but there's no denying the effect your touch has on him. He groans and his hips bulge slightly as your hand is constricted around his length.

"Have you never slept with anyone?" you ask, a note of skepticism creeping into your voice because of how confident he seemed. He shakes his head, the dark locks falling across his forehead.

"It's because I love you and I trust you," he breathes, words stuttered over a guttural curse as your hand tightens its grip. "Fuck.”

Your grip tightens on the shoulder of Anton as his cock teases your wetness, the head slapping lightly against your pussy. He lets out a sigh as that anticipation builds between you and him. "I am going to put it in," he whispers, his gaze searching yours for any sign of disapproval. Finding none, he slowly pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance.

A shiver of agony rips across you as your cherry is broken, drops of blood trickling down into your pussy. Tears well up from your squeezed eyes, your body tensing against this strange sensation. Anton buries his face in the crook of your neck, his own breathing in ragged gasps. "It—h-hurts—" your voice cracks, the words barely audible.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he asks, "Should I pull out?" Despite the guilt etched on his face, you shake your head stubbornly. "No, I want to do it." Your walls clench around him, your body instinctively trying to accommodate his size.

Anton takes a sharp breath of air. He waits a few moments before pushing deeper. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching off the bed as he sheathes himself fully inside you. Tears stream down your face, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he stills, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"This is good, right? You're not scared now. are you?" he whispers against your lips, his hips rocking gently, your body slowly relaxing as it grows accustomed to the stretch.

"Mm." is all you can say, your mind dazed by the shocks of the sensations. His cock spasms inside you, and you and he are suddenly acutely aware of the crimson stain spreading across the sheets. Concern flickers in his eyes, but he knows this is normal, a testament to your lost innocence.

"It's okay, baby. It's supposed to hurt a little the first time," Anton reassures you, his voice soft and soothing. He kisses your tears away, his lips trailing along your cheek and down your neck. "I've got you. We'll go slow."

He starts to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, easing you into the rhythm. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort, your body struggling to adapt to the foreign sensation of being filled so completely.

"Breathe, Y/N. In and out," he coaches, his own breathing ragged as he fights to maintain control. "Tell me how it feels. If it's too much, I'll stop."

You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to focus on the instructions. "I-It's intense," you manage, your voice trembling. "But don't stop. I want to feel all of you."

NOTE FROM SENA , this was genuinely just supposed to be a drabble, how the hell is this 1.8k words 😭💕

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[confusedshades]

You know what's also possible? (Since the other kids have already been covered and I'm in a mood to fiddle)

Bruce

Bruce, during one of his original training quests, (or if you're hoping for similar ages during his teenage rebellion) actually died a bit. Either a sparring hit gone bad giving him organ trouble or he hit his head just wrong, (or he accidentally drank/had too many pills or during a kidnapping attempt something went just wrong or if you're looking for more angst have him also die the night with his parents. After all he'd be covered in blood too if he were standing behind his parents and Martha had been shot in the head) *ahem* anyway. *backs away from the bloodthirsty angst train*

Bruce had stopped paying much attention to his own soul mark because why would a kid who couldn't figure out how to deal with his entire world vanishing overnight pay attention to something as small as soul marks. What he did know is the socialite standing in front of him tittering about breaking norms and publically showing off soul marks was a jewel and fur wearing viper but Brucie Wayne couldn't exactly say no without a good reason.

Dick

Dick had actually died when chemo got dropped. Or Blockbusters apartment bomb threw Dick into a wall hard. Or even when he died in that machine before Spyral. He's not coping well either way and he's been gregarious and outgoing usually but now? Nothing is the same anymore and he's not sure what to do. His soul mark changing to reflect that? Just some more icing on the trauma cake after all, and there's civilians to save anyway.

Damian

The poor kid can be forgiven for not really paying much attention to his soul mark. Talia made sure he knew how to hide the marks and anyone discovering it was silenced. The League - and her father most importantly - did not look kindly upon soul marks. She would know. It was a fact that was thrown in her face anytime Ra's was upset. As if her having a mark that matched her Beloved meant she would be a liability to leading the League. Talia noticed however when her son's mark changed after his father brought him back. In her long years and extensive experience she'd never heard of the mark changing - it either remained vibrant or faded leaving a scar to externalise the inner scar. Damian would be fine for now, he had his new powers to contend with. And if not, then her Beloved and his brood would protect him.

Soulmate aus where when Danny dies his soulmate becomes a halfa too <3

[karaeilishh]

Hii this is so random but do you think you could write vampire!billie? Any plot is fine!

this gave me goosebumps UGHH, sorry for making you wait so long baby 💞

your blood b. eilish

warnings: smut, blood. BLOOD, mean!vampire!billie, blood drinkin (kinda a lot), billie has large and sharp fangs, oral, strap, crazy a lil

w/c - 3,4k

you were waiting for her so much. weeks in an empty bed seemed torturous while your girlfriend was on her music tour. and not only that. billie was an adored person all over the world. everyone thought she was so gentle, kind and cloyingly sweet, incapable of doing bad things. they were partly right, but only you knew what she was really capable of. 

you cleaned the whole house before her arrival, cooked dinner, tidied yourself up so that your girlfriend would need nothing. you even put on her favorite underwear under a shirt and home shorts. everything was perfect for her arrival. you were waiting so much. 

she promised to come in the evening, but it was already deep into the night, you couldn’t close your eyes because of the worries when she didn’t answer your calls. the lights in the whole house were on so that you wouldn’t be tempted to close your eyes. you curled up on the couch in the living room, spending there for what seemed like an eternity before the front door opened. you jump off the couch in relief.

“billie…” your expression changes when instead of a gentle smile on her face, you see her tired and desperate look. bags under her eyes, dirty disheveled hair and dirty clothes. her lipstick is slightly smudged, her whole appearance is pure chaos. She places her suitcase next to the door and walks inside, still wearing her sneakers. you watch her every move with concern.

“baby, what’s wrong?” you dare to break the silence when she sits down on the couch, covering her face with her hands. you slowly walk towards her and sit next to her. your hand gently touches her thigh as you look at her. your face is etched with worry. “i screwed up.”

she lets out a ragged breath, yanking her leg away from your touch. she was so nervous and tense that you felt uneasy. her whole body was dripping with discontent and innuendo. “billie, please explain to me. what happened?” your voice takes on a more serious and cold tone, but your eyes are still soft as you try to catch her gaze.

“fucked” she jumps up from the couch, burying her hands in her hair. she paces back and forth across the room, sighing loudly every now and then. you tried to give her time to explain to you what was going on. you lean back on the couch and cross your arms over your chest, seemingly forgetting to breathe.

“h-he ran away. he saw me, i think he saw me.” billie finally stops and looks at you with crystal empty eyes, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. you don’t immediately understand what she’s talking about, tilting your head. “who is ‘he’, baby? please tell me" 

billie exhales heavily, like it's so hard to talk about this, like it's so hard to do anything, her body is breaking. "i'm hungry, i'm so fucking hungry. and i'm weak, and that's why i was so distracted, and he just... he fucking ran away. i couldn't catch him" billie sinks back onto the couch, her face twisted in hunger, revealing her fangs. they seemed to have gotten heavier and bigger, more dangerous, more attractive. 

It all came together in your head as she explained to you what had happened. she was like this because she hadn't fed in a long time. she needed blood, she needed it to survive. literally. her skin was even paler, her veins showing on her tired face. how had you not noticed it before? "how long have you not fed?" 

question hangs in the air for a few seconds before billie finds the strength to answer. "i don't know. a long time. a long time ago"

you bite your bottom lip, thinking about what to do next. idea in your head was just crazy and unrealistic, and you knew that billie would never agree to this. but you had to try. "baby..."

you slowly move towards her and straddle her hips. billie instinctively wants to put her hands on your hips, but you take her hands and intertwine your fingers. she gives you an ambiguous look, but remains silent, waiting for you to say something. "i know this might be dangerous for me, but maybe..."

"do you hear yourself?!" billie abruptly pulls her hands away, almost pushing you off her lap. Her face distorts with anger instantly, fire burning in her eyes. anyone would say that she is mad as hell, but you see something else behind this mask. fear, desire, hunger. "oh god, don't even dare say that out loud!"

her tone leaves no room for argument, but you know how much she needs it. to drink blood. your blood. you're a little afraid, but you touch her again. your fingertips graze over her shoulders. you tug at the fabric of her shirt, revealing her muscular arms. "but why? you need this, billie! i don't think you get offered-"

she interrupts with a nervous grin, this time allowing you to touch her, but her eyes and voice are still as cold. "listen to me carefully. i will never allow myself to drink a drop of your blood, never."

her gaze grows more furious as she looks at your neck, your pale skin practically begging her to leave the bite, but she continues. "if i taste you i don't know if i'll be able to stop. i can't put you at risk like that"

she carefully lifts you off her lap and heads towards the kitchen. you silently follow her. billie tries to convince herself that she can at least somehow cope with her hunger if she eats proper food. the homemade pasta you made. she brings the fork to her mouth, but hesitates as soon as she smells the food. "bilie... don't"

"i'm fine!" she cuts you and puts the fork in her mouth, chewing on the pasta for a few seconds before the urge to vomit attacks her throat. she runs to the trash can, and spits out everything she tried so desperately to swallow. the problem wasn't that you made her a bad dinner. she needed blood, lots of fresh blood. her body couldn't function properly without it. there was desperation in her eyes

"please, bils. just do it." you walked up to your girlfriend and gently placed your hands on her cheeks. she couldn't keep eye contact with you because she knew she would give in if she looked into your loving eyes. you wanted the best for her. always. so much so that you offered her to drink your own blood, putting yourself in danger. "i can't, baby. i just can't do this to you..."

she gave in and looked into your eyes. almost crying. from hunger, from desire, from fear. it was all affecting her so much that she thought she would fall apart under the pressure. "ill never forgive myself if i can't stop."

you left a soft kiss on her lips, urging her to be quiet. you wanted so much to help her in any way possible. you caress her face for a few more seconds before slowly moving her head to the side of your neck. the enticing warmth radiating from your skin made billie whine. “please, don’t do this…”

she licks her lips. her nose grazes over your soft skin, her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to her. she looks at the pulsing vein in your neck as you tilt your head, giving her more access. her hot breath hits you as you both realize there’s no turning back. she won’t stop. your body temperature drops a few degrees, your fingertips shaking as you close your eyes. you were scared, but also so excited at that moment that it was driving you crazy

“i’m sorry,” she whispers before abruptly sinking her fangs into your pulsating flesh. A sharp pain shoots through your body like an electric shock, your eyes wide open as is your mouth. a few strangled moans choke in your throat. you're afraid to make the slightest sound or move your body even a millimeter. after a few seconds you feel your warm sticky blood running down your skin, staining your light shirt. it runs down your collarbones, your chest, your stomach. billie drank it so greedily and sloppily, not caring at all how much blood flows out. she'll wring out every drop. with each sip she became more and more uncontrollable.

adrenaline speeds up the circulation of your blood, only increasing the pleasure of billie as she continues to scratch your neck with her fangs. your soft skin ached from the pain. there were stars in your eyes, your body temperature changing seemingly every few seconds, while you heard your girlfriend swallow your blood. she jerks away from you, breathing heavily. you whine from another sharp prick of pain. 

"god, i’m sorry... i got carried away, i shouldn't..." her eyes run over your face, she mumbles while you just stand there and silently stare at her. her lips, chin, nose are all covered in your scarlet blood. her fangs sparkle in the moonlight. it was so strange, but she looked so damn sexy. she was confused, but her gaze was so wild from how she instantly became addicted to your taste. 

"you feeling better?" when you come to, you press your hand to your neck, feeling the warm blood beneath your fingertips. billie relaxes a little when she sees your reassuring gaze. you let her know youre okay. “yeah, yeah, i’m better. so much better. im sorry you had to go through that…” she drops her hands to your waist, pressing her forehead to yours.

“actually… i liked it” the tone of your voice makes billie smile and look you in the eyes. she was surprised. her eyebrows raised slightly as she studied your face. “what did you say?” she heard you perfectly well, but it was like she needed confirmation that she wasn’t delirious and that you actually liked it. she needed to know that she didn’t hurt you.

“i said i liked the feeling” you whisper, standing on your toes to whisper in her ear. you knew she was about to lose control. "your teeth in my flesh, my warm blood running down my skin. it's so strange, but so exciting..."

billie's mouth dropped open, breathing raggedly. her earlier worry disappeared when she saw you were okay. maybe too much. "i can't believe it. i just drank your blood and you like it?"

she pulls back and looks you in the eyes. she only needed one word to break completely. you could feel her desire in the warming air. or is it that you're still so agitated after she drank about half a liter of your blood in one go. "yes..."

your whisper turns billie on with a snap of her finger. she lights up. the hunger in her eyes is still there, only now she's not hungry for blood, she's hungry for you. for your body, soft as play dough in her hands. "you're such a slut if you really liked it"

the next moment she's dragging you to the bedroom on the second floor. her teeth are grinding as she throws you on the bed. now some of her life force has returned and she remembered how much she missed you. her head could finally work properly to realize how long it's been since you felt each other's warmth. fucking weeks spent hundreds of miles apart.

"god, i missed you so much" her body is hovering over yours. the tips of her long hair tickle your skin as she takes off your bloody shirt, revealing your lacy bra. your upper body is covered in your blood. a smile spreads across her face as she looks up at your face. "you were waiting for me"

"of course i was. you have no idea how" you giggle. she looked so sexy with that look and your frozen blood on her face. billie leaves a kiss on your lips, letting you taste the salty taste of your blood on your lips. crazy feeling. you squirm slightly under her. "please, bills…"

"please, what?" she is amused by your whining. it's amazing how much her mood has improved after she drank your blood. maybe there was something special about it. you whisper softly about how much you need her, and it clearly affects her. billie leaves kisses on your body, caressing your collarbone with her tongue. "i wasn't kidding when i said i couldn't stop"

you don't have time to ask her, as you feel another painful bite on your body. her teeth are clamped around your collarbone, making you feel the pressure on your bone. she didn't even sink her teeth all the way in, but a pool of blood still formed on your body, which billie drank up, greedily swallowing every drop. the pain wasn't as noticeable now, causing your brain to continue to drift to the warmth between your legs. the contrast of pain and desire was driving you crazy.

bilie waits until a pool of blood forms above your collarbone again, before dipping her fingertips into it. you look at her questioningly, but remain silent, waiting for what she will do. billie runs her fingers over your stomach, drawing something on your skin. the dark, thick blood contrasted with your milky skin, as billie mindlessly smeared your blood over your body.

"baby, please..." you remind her not to get too carried away. she giggles in response and licks the last of your blood off her fingers. she found it funny. “sorry, princess.”

billie peels off your shorts, throwing them to the other corner of the bedroom. she greedily examines every inch of your exposed skin, like she’s seeing it for the first time. “god, you’re gorgeous.” she can’t help but comment when such a beautiful, obedient girl lies beneath her, letting her do whatever she wants to her.

she pulls you to the edge of the bed, kneeling between your legs. you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of her face. god, you wanna take a picture. you thought you were dreaming right now, that this wasn’t real.

ripping the thin piece of fabric off your body, billie swallows hard. you hear it. something new flashes in her eyes as she practically growls. She places your legs on her shoulders, her hands squeezing your hips painfully. She leaves wet kisses on the inside of your thighs, looking into your eyes. "billie…"

you’re literally dripping. you wanted her so badly, inside you. you needed her to fuck you so badly, but billie had something else in mind. She lowers your legs, wrapping both hands around your left thigh. She massages it for a few seconds before running her tongue over your warm skin. "what are you-"

she doesn't let you finish. her fangs sink into your flesh again. all the way. she clenches her jaws so hard you want to scream. She moans loudly and obscenely as the taste of your blood imprints on her tongue. She takes big greedy gulps, but you still feel your blood dripping down your leg. right onto the white carpet. “billie…”

you throw your head back against the sheets, trying to get used to the feeling. after a few seconds, the pain faded, leaving only a slight discomfort. but that seemed to go away too when she looked at you. Her eyes were wild, animalistic, sending shivers down your spine. her dark eyeliner highlighted her light eyes, and oh god, you were just aching. you needed her.

as soon as her fangs emerge from your skin, you feel a strange emptiness inside. it was mutual dependence. aching, but so strong. you just need to feel her mouth on you. it doesn’t matter how. billie licks a trickle of blood from your skin before finally placing her tongue where you need her most. “fuck, yes…”

your hand immediately flies to her hair, pulling her head down to your needy pussy. she literally growls into your flesh, telling you what a dirty slut you are. all the events of the night were forgotten as soon as her tongue wrapped around your clit, making you moan in pleasure. electric.

the dirtiest sounds came out of her mouth as she devoured you. the taste of your blood still clinging to her tongue, mixing with your juices. it was driving her crazy. her hands traced their way to your  breasts, squeezing hard. she lightly scratched your skin, making you arch your back. every atom of your body wanted to feel her.

"i'm close...i’m..." you whine, thinking that billie will make you wait, but she just buries her face deeper into your pussy. she wanted to reward you, to worship you, because you literally brought her back to life. once she tasted you, she would never want anyone else's blood again. only you. 

your body disintegrates into a million pieces as an electric orgasm shoots through your body, leaving you shaking for a while. you breathe heavily, looking up at the ceiling. billie crawls towards you, looking into your eyes with a playful glint in hers. you reach your hand up to her face, trying to wipe away at least a few drops of your blood, but she doesn't let you. "i like the feeling of your blood" 

"but you have it all over your face!" you giggle and intertwine your fingers. your body calmed down a bit, but billie still wanted to do one thing. you see the glint of something unsaid in her eyes and you whisper softly, "what do you want?"

there’s a look of relief on her face, like she's been waiting for you to ask. "i want you to ride me. my cock." Your heart skips a beat when she mentions her strap. you’ve been hungry for that. you nod softly and she pulls away from you, taking off her jeans as she does so. "sit on the edge."

she instructs you as she quickly fastens the strap to her thighs. She does it so casually, like if she doesn't have you on her body for another minute she'll die. billie sits down on the bed and roughly pulls you onto her lap.

"lower yourself." Her voice drips with dominance, making you weak in the knees. you slowly lower yourself onto her strap, holding onto her shoulders. you’ve missed this feeling so much. you moan, lowering your body completely onto hers. you give yourself a few seconds to adjust, but billie squeezes your hips tightly. “come on, bunny, bounce on me.”

her words leave your brain in a mess as you start bouncing on her cock like a fucking bunny. billie’s hands wander over your body as she finally finds her way to the clasps of your bra to push it off your body. your breasts bounce with every movement you make. her cock is buried deep inside your pussy, hitting all the right spots.

“go faster.” billie grabs your breasts with both hands, making your pace only sloppier. you couldn’t go on your own anymore with her teasing you like that. your whole body was a bloody dull mess underneath her. your legs were weak as you fell against her. "i...i can't..."

"that's pathetic, baby," she chuckles, running her tongue over your tits before biting you again. your hands tighten on her shoulders as she only sinks her teeth halfway in, but it's enough to draw blood again. it runs down your nipple and billie swirls it around with her tongue with a satisfied groan, letting go with pop-sound.

finished torturing your breasts, she finally changes your position, pressing your face into the mattress. your ass is hanging in the air as she finally thrusts into you. her nails scratching your back, her cock is buried in your pussy, all the sheets are crumpled from your grip and stained with your blood. "harder, billie, right there..."

this was probably the craziest night of your life, because your head was no longer working. her cock was fucking you so stupidly, a liter of your blood was pumped out of your body. perfect conditions so the only thing on your mind is billie. the angle she fucks you at, making your pussy clench around her cock as she makes you cum over and over.

your blood pushed her into it.

tags: @dandelions4us

requests open !!

a/n - UGH i love it

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXX)

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some shopping for our lovebirds that turns into Andrew fighting for his life…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3322

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Here are my black clothes

I think now it is better to love no one than to love you. Here are my black clothes, the tired nightgowns and robes fraying in many places. Why should they hand useless as though I were going naked? You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects. You will want to touch them with your mouth, run your fingers through the thin tender underthings and I will not need them in my new life.

Louise Glück, The First Five Book of Poems

The tailor was posh but undoubtedly talented. Then again, it was a tailor, posh was to be expected.

It was the old type of tailor, the one you saw in movies, the type that hid a secret passage to the secret service. Wooden walls covered with wooden shelves and clothes, wooden tiles on the floor, large corduroy armchairs. You walked in feeling like you didn’t belong there, like you should never have come in the first place.

Frank spotted you instantly when you walked in. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, there were times when you missed him. There were times when you didn’t think of him at all… what a strange feeling… he was always in your thoughts for years…

You wished Andrew was there with you. You wondered if his classes were going well this morning, you wanted to make him a coffee and chat instead of working…

“Y/N!” Frank beamed at you, crossing the room to give you a hug. “I’ve missed you! We’ve spent too long apart!”

“Missed you too. You look well! Are you ready to choose your suit?”

“I’m so nervous,” he admitted with an uncomfortable laugh.

“It’ll be just fine.”

You said hello to Frank’s friends and family members gathered in the shop. Only a few people, including the three best men.

The tailor came in a few minutes later, started taking care of his clients. You remained quiet while the group was splitting its attention between Frank’s suit and his best men’ clothes.

The plan was simple. You had to give him terrible advice. You had to ruin the suit, make him look ridiculous. Something that Sam would hate.

That was the only way to weaken the wedding with today’s activity.

You waited patiently, watched Frank try suits on. Every piece of garment shattered your heart.

You should have been the one discovering the suit on your wedding day. You should have been the one he talked about now, asking if you would like that colour on him, hoping you would find him handsome.

He was. He was handsome. So fucking much. You wanted to shout, to claw your eyes out of their sockets with the pain of it. He was so handsome, and you should have never been here. Instead of seeing him try on all these suits, you should have been the bride hiding her dress from him. But you weren’t. You were just the friend he was turning his attention to now, asking for an advice.

And you couldn’t do it. Couldn’t ruin this for him. You were too kind-hearted for that, or perhaps, you were simply too much in pain.

You struggled to put a smile on your face.

“I think navy blue is better than green on you.”

“You think?” he asked, looking at the two shades.

“It matches your eyes better. Makes them pop.”

He smiled, bright and excited.

Had he ever smiled like this thinking of your wedding? Of marrying you?

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re always right with those things.”

“Because I pay attention.”

Your answer held more meaning than it seemed, but he didn’t notice. He never did. Not when it was you.

And you wanted revenge now. You wanted him to regret you. You wanted him to see that you were enough, that you were always enough, that Sam wasn’t better than you… even if you didn’t really believe it. Frank had chosen Sam. Andrew had been in love with her, and now that he was starting to move on, it was to be with a woman who wasn’t you.

You excused yourself, looked for the bathroom. The moment you turned the lock on your door, the tears were let free.

You looked so sad when you came back.

It was almost noon when you stepped in the office, Andrew had been waiting for you to eat his lunch. He didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and neither did you. He was relieved about it, you clearly needed some help.

“How did it go?” he asked as you closed the door behind you.

You didn’t answer at first, instead you took the time to take off your coat, let yourself fall in your office chair and throw your head back towards the ceiling. You let out a dramatic moan, Andrew chuckled at the sound.

“That bad, huh? Did you make him choose something terrible to wear?”

You didn’t answer.

“Let me guess… you saw him in there, it broke your heart, but you didn’t lie and helped him look stunning for his wedding day.”

“How do you know? That’s exactly what happened.”

“I know you. You’re too kind to do something so mean and selfish. Hiding a few bottles of champagne is one thing, making your ex look like a fool on the most important day of his life is another.”

“I’m so pathetic. I feel so… pathetic…”

“You’re not. You’re just heartbroken.”

“Same bloody thing.”

“What can I do?”

You looked at him then, tears in your eyes and looking so sad… so damn sad…

But then you looked angry instead, wrath burning through your gaze and Andrew shuddered at the sight.

You looked gorgeous like this, despite your eyes reddened with tears. Fierce was a good look on you, it had always been…

“I’m going to make him regret me so fucking much he’ll beg to get me back.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your determination.

“And how do we do that?”

“By making me look so fucking good he’ll have nightmares about leaving me.”

Andrew’s heart skipped a beat. His words came out in a whisper you didn’t hear.

“You’re always gorgeous, Y/N…”

“We’re going to this party they’re throwing two weeks before the wedding. So… in…”

“Two weeks.”

“Yeah… in two weeks. God, I can’t believe it’s the end of April already. Exams will be back in no time.”

“Don’t mention that…” Andrew winced. “Besides, we’ll have to go through the conference first…”

“Did you have an answer for that by the way?”

Andrew smiled.

“Main speaker on the second day. Forty-minutes presentation.”

“That’s awesome, Andy! Congrats!”

“I’m going to hate every second of it.”

“You’ll be brilliant.”

“We’ll need to rehearse your presentation too.”

“Yes, thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it. We’re a team.”

You exchanged a tender smile, one that reached gratefulness for more than professional support.

“Anyway, I’m going to go shopping after work,” you declared. “I’ll buy the most gorgeous dress for that party. And Frank will be at my fucking feet.”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“Alright, good plan.”

“Actually… can I be insufferable and ask for your help?”

“Pardon me? My help? I don’t know anything about dresses…”

“You’re a man. You know what men like. Actually, you know what? We could go now. Be back before two and work this afternoon.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Okay…”

Andrew gathered his things in a hurry, let you babble away while you exited the office. He didn’t mention the way your voice was shaking from time to time, how your eyes still glistened with withheld tears.

He didn’t mention any of it. He merely drove you to the shop you liked.

Andrew didn’t know what to do while you browsed through expensive dresses, selected a few, asked for his opinion. He didn’t really have any. He had no idea what he was supposed to do to make you smile again, to make you happy, to make you feel as beautiful as you truly were…

You walked in a fitting room with five different dresses to try on. There weren’t many people in the shop at this hour, only an old woman with her grand-daughter were looking for a dress for the young woman. The elder lady started chatting casually with Andrew while they both waited in front of the cabins.

“Your girlfriend is looking for a dress for a special occasion?” she asked, and Andrew fiercely blushed.

“Oh… no, she’s not… we’re not… She’s not my girlfriend.”

She gave him a look, one that annoyed him a lot.

“Right… I see…”

Andrew ignored her, her grand-daughter showing her a dress the perfect excuse not to answer.

And then he heard you calling his name in a quiet voice…

His heart didn’t just skip a few beats, it stopped altogether. Butterflies didn’t cut it, these were fireworks in his stomach.

You were standing there in an emerald dress that fell across your calves, a low cut on your cleavage that made his wildest fantasies about you seem mild.

“What do you think? I like this one.”

You turned around to show him the back, or rather, the absence of clothing on the backless dress.

Andrew couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think…

You were so… so…

“How do I look?”

You were so… so…

“…Breathtaking.”

You blinked up at him. And he tried to hide his reaction, but he couldn’t. He must have looked stunned, a deer in headlights, and he couldn’t help it. You were so…

“…Perfect.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, a shy smile forming on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you so badly. He wanted to touch the skin of your back the dress revealed. He wanted to run his fingers along your cleavage. He wanted to tear that gorgeous dress off you…

He cleared his throat, averted his eyes so he would stop staring at you.

“Yeah… that’s… a good one.”

“I have another I like, hang on.”

He nodded, unable to look at you. He could feel warmth spreading through his body, but he would never survive the humiliation of getting a boner in the middle of a shop because you were trying dresses on…

“Not your girlfriend, huh?”

Andrew turned to the stranger, the old woman giving him a knowing smile.

“You’d better make her your girlfriend, before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, of course not.”

She heaved a sigh, looking at the closed curtain of the fitting room where her grand-daughter had disappeared.

“My husband looked at me like that, you know? The way you look at her. And I can only hope my grand-child will find someone who will look at her like that, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like she is the most beautiful thing on this earth.”

She stared right into his eyes.

“The way you must be looked at when you are loved.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fiercely blushing.

Christ, he was a desperate case. And if a stranger could notice his feelings for you, surely everyone had… what would you say if you noticed? Would you push him away? Would you break his heart?

You walked out of your cabin again, wearing a black dress this time. And Andrew tried to hide it better this time, but you looked divine. It fitted your curves perfectly, it made your body look like sin…

“What about this one?” you asked, turning around, and Andrew hated himself for being unable to stop himself from staring at your arse.

“Yeah… that’s a good one too,” he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Which one do you prefer?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Come on! I like both. I don’t know which one to pick. What’s your favourite?”

He struggled to control his breathing, to slow down his heart.

“I… erm… I really liked the green one.”

“The green one?”

“Yeah, it… you’re gorgeous in this dress too though.”

He heard you clearing your throat too.

“Right… the green dress it is, then.”

“Yeah… okay… grand… erm, like… good…”

“Thanks, Andy.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Christ, please, don’t mention it…

“I’ll get changed real quick.”

He hummed as he nodded, still unable to look at you.

By his side, the elderly lady chuckled, and Andrew wanted to dissolve into nothing, a puddle on the ground, to simply be atomised into thin air…

You bought the dress, Andrew drove you back to Trinity in relative silence. He was too busy picturing you in these dresses again, too busy trying not to picture you in these dresses again.

When you walked back to your office though, it was obvious that you were still sad. That search for a semblance of power over a situation you couldn’t control was gone again. He let out a long exhale through his nose as he looked at you sitting behind your desk. He crossed the room, avoiding the lamp hanging from the ceiling, and gave you a soft smile.

“You’re alright, Y/N?”

You shook your head.

“I’m sorry… I just… I can’t get over it.”

“It’s okay. You’re upset, that’s all.”

“Seeing him like this… wearing these suits… he should have been wearing them for me…”

“I know. I know, Y/N.”

“I want my life back.”

“But you have one. You have one now. You don’t need him in it.”

“I feel like I need him. I feel like I… like I just messed everything up.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t mess anything up. None of this is your fault.”

“If he chose her, then I must be lacking something…”

“You’re not. Trust me, you’re not lacking anything. It’s his loss if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden harshness of his tone.

“You don’t need him, Y/N… you… you could have better than him. You… he’s not… He’s not even paying attention to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really care. I think he’s a little too selfish for that.”

He shook his head.

“I see you with him, you know? You’re not yourself. You’re not… babbling away about cinema, or literature, or art or this recipe you’ve just tried or… it’s like you just shut down. And you listen, and then you make a tiny summary of all the things you wanted to say… but you’re so fucking smart. You’re so fucking interesting. You’re… you shouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t care about what you have to say. And he fucking broke your heart! Why do you still want him? Why…?”

Why do you still want him, instead of me?

But he didn’t say it. He stopped, and closed his fists tightly.

Andrew was growing annoyed, angry even. And of course you noticed, he reckoned he was doing a pretty bad job at hiding his true feelings.

“Y/N… Frank… I’m not saying he’s a bad person, but…”

“But?”

“But he doesn’t deserve you.”

You raised an eyebrow, visibly unimpressed.

“Really? Why not? It’s not like I’m anything special, anyway.”

Andrew frowned hard.

“Are you listening to yourself?!” he asked with something aghast in his voice, a genuine incomprehension that surprised you. “You’re… you’re amazing. You deserve so much better than him! You deserve to be treated with respect, to have someone who actually pays attention to you, who cares about you, who listens to you when you’re talking about your passions, who’s not going to disregard what you’re saying simply because they disagree…”

But you interrupted him with a scoff.

“Perfection doesn’t exist, Andy. I’ve learned as much in life. I don’t have a choice but to settle for less than that.”

“There’s a difference between accepting someone’s faults and flaws and setting the bar so low it’s actually buried underground…”

“You’re one to talk! You’re still in love with Samantha despite how she hurt you, despite the fact that she doesn’t give two shites about your poetry or your work, about the fact that she won’t make a single fucking effort for you…”

“Who says I’m still in love with her?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, and you were genuinely taken aback this time, Andrew could tell.

“You’re not?” you asked, your tone quieter, Andrew guessed that it was a side-effect of your surprise.

“No, I’m not. I’ve learnt my lesson. I want to move on. I… I’m moving on.”

“Wow… that’s… good… That’s really grand, Andy. Is it… because of that woman you mentioned?”

Andrew’s heart sped up, he could feel himself panicking, he closed and opened his fists multiple times in an attempt to slow down his breathing.

“I… I mean… kind of…”

“Kind of?”

“I…”

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

“I want to be with her. I… I just… I haven’t told her yet.”

“Why not? You should ask her on a date.”

But he shook his head.

“She won’t say yes. I know her, she won’t go on a date with me, not for now. Besides… It’s too soon… for me too, I mean. I need to put Sam behind me for good, before I can try to be with her.”

You stared at him with a blank expression… or rather, not blank. The opposite. Like you felt something but tried to show the opposite reaction. The result was unreadable to him.

“I’m glad you’re moving on.”

But your tone was flat, and you didn’t seem happy at all.

“Thanks,” Andrew answered anyway.

You heaved a tired sigh.

“Please, don’t judge me with Frank. I… you don’t understand.”

Andrew sighed too, let the air out through gritted teeth.

“No, you’re right. I don’t understand. I mean… I do. I do understand the process of grieving for a life that wasn’t fully yours to begin with, but you thought would belong to you. But that’s the thing, Y/N. You need to start grieving now. You can’t remain stuck there forever. You… You deserve to be happy. You deserve better than that. Don’t do that to yourself. Especially not for someone like him. We deserve better than this, Y/N.”

You stared at him now, tears in your eyes, a sight he wished he could banish forever. He would take all of your pain away if he could, he would suffer it in your stead.

“It’s not that easy, Andy,” you shook your head, taking a step back.

“It could be. It could be, Y/N…”

“I’ve loved him for so long…”

Andrew slowly nodded.

“You could love again, with a little bit of time. He… he doesn’t care about you, Y/N. He doesn’t… listen when you talk. He acts like he does, but he doesn’t. He’s not interested in what makes you happy…”

“Neither is Sam with you.”

“I know. I know, and I don’t want that anymore.”

“But I want Frank.”

Your voice was shaking, it didn’t sound either earnest nor convincing. Still, hearing the words broke Andrew’s heart.

After everything… how could you still want Frank… why couldn’t you want him instead?

Could you… could you ever want him?

Andrew closed his fists tightly, until he could feel the sharp pain of his nails digging crescent marks into his palm. Perhaps you would never want him. Maybe it wasn’t just about Frank, maybe it was about him… maybe he was simply… not your type, not attractive to you, not good enough.

He let out a long, painful exhale through his nose.

“Would that make you happy?” he genuinely asked, voice quiet, deeper than usual, but softer than before as well. “Is that what will make you happy?”

You stared at him for a moment, then clenched your jaw. When you answered, he couldn’t read in your eyes whether or not you were telling the truth. Maybe you were lying… against all odds, he hoped you were lying.

“Yes.”

One word, breathed out, it was enough to break his heart.

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“Alright, we’ll do it then. We’ll go to that stupid party. We’ll make him jealous. We’ll make him see what he’s losing by choosing Sam over you. If it’s what it takes for you to be happy… As long as it makes you happy.”

“Thank you.”

He stared at you as you walked back to your desk, sat before your computer, looked at the screen.

He turned around, blinking tears away, stood in front of the window behind his desk.

As long as it would make you happy…

[daisymbin]

hiiii (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)°ᡣ𐭩 . ° . !! could i request fluff prompt number 10: do you ever think about us as like... more than friends? - with dk saying it? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ with female/afab reader?

hi cutie!!!!! yes you can!! grrrr why do I have cuteness aggression from an ask!!!! 😤😹 thank you for requesting!! 🫶

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // seokmin's m.list

fluff prompt #10: "do you ever think about us like... as more than friends?"

seokmin couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing under the table. he knew it was probably annoying you, but he couldn’t help it. his nerves were buzzing, the words he’d been rehearsing for weeks sitting heavy on his tongue.

you were sitting across from him, laughing softly as you scrolled through your phone, oblivious to the internal war he was waging.

you looked so relaxed, so you, and it made him feel like an idiot for being so worked up.

“seokmin,” you said, glancing up from your phone, “are you okay? you’re, like, vibrating.”

he froze, his foot halting mid-bounce. “yeah! yeah, i’m good,” he said, a little too loudly.

you tilted your head, unconvinced. “you sure? you’re acting kind of weird.”

he wanted to laugh. weird didn’t even begin to cover it.

“i’m fine,” he lied, fiddling with the edge of his napkin.

you narrowed your eyes but didn’t push it, instead taking a sip of your drink and glancing out the café window.

this was his chance.

“do you ever think about us?” he blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could second-guess himself.

you turned back to him, eyebrows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

he swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks heat up. “like… as more than friends?”

the words hung in the air between you, and seokmin felt like the whole world had gone silent, waiting for your response.

your eyes widened, and you blinked at him like you weren’t sure you’d heard him right. “more than friends?” you repeated, your voice soft.

he nodded, his throat suddenly dry. “yeah. like… do you ever think about it?”

you stared at him for what felt like an eternity, and seokmin resisted the urge to crawl under the table and hide.

“i…” you started, then trailed off, biting your lip. “i don’t know. i guess i’ve thought about it before.”

his heart skipped a beat. “you have?”

you nodded slowly, looking down at your hands. “yeah. i mean, we’re close, and sometimes it just… crosses my mind, you know?”

seokmin felt like his chest might burst. he hadn’t expected you to admit it, hadn’t dared to hope that you might feel the same way he did.

“what do you think about?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you glanced up at him, your cheeks tinged with pink. “i don’t know. like, what it would be like if we… were together. if things were different.”

“different how?”

you hesitated, and he could see the conflict in your eyes, the way you were weighing your words carefully.

“just… if we weren’t just friends,” you said finally. “if we were more than that.”

seokmin leaned forward, his hands resting on the table. “and?”

“and what?”

“what do you think it would be like?”

you looked at him, your eyes searching his face like you were trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“i think…” you started, then stopped, shaking your head. “i don’t know, seokmin. it’s complicated.”

“it doesn’t have to be,” he said softly, his heart pounding in his chest.

you looked at him, and he could see the doubt and fear in your eyes.

“what if it doesn’t work?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“what if it does?” he countered, his voice steady.

you didn’t say anything, and seokmin felt the need to fill the silence, to lay everything out on the table.

“i’ve thought about it too,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “a lot, actually. and every time i think about it, it feels… right. like it’s supposed to be this way.”

you looked down, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve.

“you mean that?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the café.

“every word,” he said, his eyes never leaving your face. “you mean so much to me, and i don’t want to mess this up, but i also don’t want to keep pretending i don’t feel this way about you.”

you looked up at him, your eyes shining with something he couldn’t quite place.

“i don’t want to mess this up either,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

“then let’s not,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “let’s take it slow. figure it out together.”

you stared at him for a moment, then nodded, a hesitant smile spreading across your face.

“okay,” you said softly.

seokmin felt like he could finally breathe again, the weight on his chest lifting.

“okay,” he repeated, his smile widening.

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "you’re ridiculous,"

“you like me anyway,” he teased, his grin turning playful.

“maybe,” you said, your tone teasing, but the look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

[loulovingho]

He'd forced himself to stay out of bed until at least eight o'clock. Glancing at the clock on the wall every two minutes as he flipped through the channels on TV. He had exited out of his DVR pretty quickly. Most of the things on there were shows that Buck had recorded for them to watch together later. There was a documentary on beetles of the world that they had only gotten halfway through before they were stumbling into the bedroom, not that Tommy minded. He'd never really wanted to watch the documentary in the first place. Now he'd give anything to have Evan beside him, talking over everything the narrator said.

He wanted today to be over. Wanted to fall asleep and wake up and it be another normal day. Just Friday, November 29th. Nothing special about that.

The second it hit eight, Tommy was shutting off the TV and getting up to head to his room. He stopped as he passed the front door. He swore he could hear something on the other side of it. A rustling, mixed with someone cursing under their breath.

He sighed. He was supposed to be getting a new part for his truck delivered soon, and the guy probably tossed it, angry about having to make deliveries on Thanksgiving.

He flipped on the light before opening the door, freezing when he saw it was definitely not some random delivery guy on the other side.

"Ev- Buck? Why are... What?"

"I dropped the pie," Buck whined, scooping pumpkin pie off of Tommy's front porch and plopping it back into its container.

It took Tommy a second to understand what was happening. There was a brown bag by the door, filled to the top with containers, and a couple more containers beside it.

Then there was the pie, most of it back in the container with some smeared in Buck's hand, and remnants on the porch. There would be ants everywhere by morning. But that was a tomorrow problem.

"Here, Buck, it's fine, just-"

"You weren't supposed to come out yet," Buck explained in a bit of a panic. He was still bent over, picking at the crust on the ground. "I was gonna ring the doorbell and go before you got to the door."

"You were gonna ding dong ditch me?" Tommy asked, trying to lighten the mood. When it didn't work, he took a step closer to Buck, "Buck, seriously, it's fine. You didn't need to do all this."

Finally, Buck stood, his pumpkin covered hand held out. "Well, I know you don't wanna see me or talk to me, but I wanted you to have some of the food because when we planned everything it was with you in mind, and we had a lot leftover and I knew you wouldn't fix yourself anything and-"

"Buck, just... just come in and wash your hands, please, okay? I'll grab the food."

Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I'll be in and out."

Tommy stepped to the side, letting Buck in first. He grabbed up all the food and followed behind him into the kitchen. "Feels like there's enough here to feed me for a week."

"I figured you might want to take some into work with you, or freeze it or something," Buck replied, scrubbing the pumpkin off his hand.

"I appreciate it. You, um, you really didn't have to do all this. I did end up making some Thanksgiving foods for myself."

Buck huffed out a laugh. "What? Stovetop stuffing and cranberry sauce?" He grabbed the towel from beside the sink and turned to Tommy looking at him from across the kitchen island, his face blank and eyes a little red. Buck shook his head. "Sorry, that was mean, I- I didn't mean it to sound like that."

"It's fine. You're not wrong about that, actually."

"Still, I, uh, I shouldn't have said it like that. Sorry." He dropped the towel back by the sink and pushed himself away from the counter. "I'm gonna go, but Happy... Happy Thanksgiving, Tommy."

Tommy pursed his lips as Buck walked by, heading for the door. Part of him was saying to keep quiet, let him go. The other part told him he was an idiot if he did that.

"You are wrong about something though," he blurted, stopping Buck before he could get too far.

Buck turned back to him. "What's that?"

"I have wanted to see you, and talk to you."

They stared at each other for a moment, both of their hearts thumping in their chests.

"You have?" Buck questioned. "Could've fooled me."

Yeah, he deserved that. "Listen, are you hungry at all?" Tommy asked. "I could get this warmed up and we could eat, talk, fight, whatever. I... I feel like I left a little too soon and you deserve more of an explanation than what I gave you. No pressure though, if you wanna go, I'll understand, I just think-"

"I could eat," Buck interrupted. "As long as you mean it all. Even the fighting part."

Tommy smiled softly. "I would really, really love to fight with you this Thanksgiving, Evan."

"You sure?"

Tommy nodded.

"Okay then," Buck agreed. "I'd really, really love to fight with you too."

“The team is off this year, and you are too, so I’m going to show you what a real Thanksgiving looks like.”

That’s what Buck had told him a month ago, a late night discussion in bed at the loft, Buck’s shoulder healed enough to lie down but Tommy making no effort to leave him.

Being off for Thanksgiving was rare, both of them being off was practically a miracle. Buck was determined not to waste it.

He’d asked Tommy about what his Thanksgivings were like growing up. Tommy had told him, the first few he could remember were his dad yelling about something not being done right and his mom ending up in the bedroom crying.

After she died, there was no more Thanksgiving at all. The only thing Tommy would do, more for his mom than anything else, is make her “special homemade dressing” (a box of Stovetop), and cranberry sauce. He’d eat it alone in the kitchen while his dad downed one beer after another in his chair in the living room, watching whatever game was on.

And once he was an adult, he worked pretty much every Thanksgiving, so he didn’t think much of it.

Buck had kissed him hard after that, promised this year would be different. They’d all be at Maddie and Chimney’s place, but everyone was going to pitch in with the cooking. There would be kids running around, and games, and way too much food, and maybe once everyone else left they’d watch a Christmas movie.

Tommy played it cool, but he felt like a kid on the inside. He was so excited. He’d get to be with his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s family, which were his friends too. There would be laughter and embarrassing stories told. The kids would be getting excited for Christmas and he’d ask Jee what she was wanting so he could get her present sorted out. It would be perfect.

Tommy cleared his throat as he turned off the stove, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He set the stuffing on the back burner, letting it sit while he scooped two spoonfuls of cranberry sauce on his plate. From the fridge he grabbed a beer and set it at the table. Then he went back to the stuffing and stirred it, satisfied with the thickness. He added a bit more than a regular serving size to his plate, then walked back to the table.

From his seat he could hear the game on in the living room. If he pretended enough, he could imagine his dad in there. At least then he wouldn’t be alone.

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 4

Writer's Note: Peoples - thank you all so much for the support. It has been really endearing. Forever grateful. Please accept my apologies if I have missed someone off the tag list! I'm finding it hard to navigate the world of tumblr, so I ask you to please be patient with me! Sending all the love, as per X

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear (nothing descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Rudely awakened by Alba opening the curtains allowing the morning’s light filter through, Aurelia groaned as she stretched out her weary body.

“Good morning My Lady. I hope and trust that you slept well?” Alba asked her.

“Yes, thank you. I fear I have a lot to accomplish today. I am to meet with a palace planner?” Aurelia responded. Tearing away from the curtains, Alba took to tidying the linens which Aurelia had just risen from. “Yes, My Lady, that is why I have fetched you. They are waiting in the planning room of the palace. Let us get you washed and changed, and take you to meet them.”

Aurelia tread to a new part of the palace which she was yet to encounter. As she approached the room she could hear raised male voices, Alba reached forward to knock to which she was greeted with speedily opening doors, and two extremely contrasting figures standing behind. One was extremely tall and thin, meanwhile the other was short and rather plump.

“My oh my, Lady Aurelia. The Emperor has chosen well. Please you Highness, please come and sit and let us discuss.” The taller of the two elated as Aurelia thought it was much too early in the morning to be this chirpy.

She sat on the beautifully embroidered cushion which padded the heavy wooden hair, dress catching the fine wind as she lowered herself down. The pair looked at her in awe, there was something so simple, yet breathtaking about her. They knew of the Emperor’s way, particularly his brother and prayed to the gods that they would be kind to this innocent child.

“My Lady, allow us to introduce ourselves, my name is Decimus, chief textile co-ordinator here at the palace, and this is Faunus, my handmaiden.” the taller of the two joked. Faunus turned in fake-disgust, “As if! I think you’ll come to find dear Lady Aurelia that Decimus is the lesser important of the two of us… I am the chief seamster, I am responsible for most gowns in the palace, although I do have my minions. I trust and pray you like our creations which you have seen so far, like what you have on you now.”

Aurelia appreciated the pair’s light-heartedness. It was soothing in an environment which seemed so hostile or ‘egg-shell’ like. She giggled in response to them, “It is a pleasure to meet the both of you, and yes, thank you for your kind creations and alterations; they have been nothing slight of spectacular.” The pair nodded with Decimus starting, “Ma’am, shall we begin the planning? We have much to accomplish today as we have a meeting with Emperor Geta this afternoon to go over our designs.” Aurelia nodded and so the planning began.

The first item for discussion, and arguably the most important, the wedding gown. They started off with the overall shape of the dress. The dress flowed at the bottom, with an almost small pleat right round the skirting area. The top half was gathered fabric, which came in two halves covering each breast, leaving a considerable gap between. The plunge made its way right down to where the skirting started. Decimus grabbed fabric he had to hand, and started to pin the dress as he had sketched on the page. Faunus stepped back to admire Aurelia, but looked puzzled “There’s something missing…” Decimus agreed. The pair decided to grab two small gold clasps, and attached one to each shoulder, which left the arm even more exposed. The skirt was then added with a laurel leaf belt to tie the gold on the shoulder in. Aurelia looked at her reflection, almost taken away by the beauty of the dress.

“Does anyone know what the Emperor’s favourite colour is?” she asked inquisitively.

“I believe Ma’am, it is crimson red.”, Faunus drawing a piece of fabric from his collection to show her an example of the colour. Aurelia took it in her hands and created a quick-win shall, spanning across her back, draping over her forearms. The two designers stepped back and sighed, “That’s it. The dress is complete.”

“Now, we must discuss your garments for after the ceremony.” Decimus stated.

“What do you mean? I have my dress, that will suffice all day?” Aurelia asked. Decimus and Faunus looked at one another and burst out laughing – this girl truly was innocent.

“My Lady, upon marrying the Emperor, you are essentially signing yourself over to him. Body and mind. Enjoy your liberty freedoms now, as once you are married, you must obey every word that Emperor Geta mutters.” Faunus explains.

Decimus could see the worry and confusion in Aurelia’s face, so he begins, “Lady Aurelia, let us explain it gentler. Ignore Faunus and his harsh realistic world formalities. When you are married, that later evening, you must celebrate with your new husband. By celebrate, I mean to form your bodily unions and consummate your marriage.”

Aurelia takes a step back and nods, “Ah, yes, right, okay. Erm, yes, we need to ensure I am to please the Emperor, I do not wish to disappoint.” The pair giggled at her awkwardness and began drafting new garments for her to wear.

The rest of the wedding textiles were based around the choices made for the dress, and once all was finalised, Aurelia suddenly felt a huge wave of emotion come over her, breaking down crying instantaneously. Decimus approached the soon-to-be Empress, asking “My Lady, what ever is the matter? Is there something not to your liking?”

Aurelia sniffled, “People, please forgive my outburst. It’s just that I miss home and my family. I would love for my mother to be here to help me make these decisions, I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”

The duo felt a pang of deep sadness for the young girl. She had been thrust into this position through no fault nor want of her own, and it must be an extremely hard transition. Faunus began, “My Lady, I’m sure your family will be cordially invited to the wedding? Have you asked the Emperor?” Aurelia shook her head, “No, the Emperor and I haven’t discussed really anything as of yet.” Faunus sighs, “My Lady, at our review I will plant the seed. Please do not feel such sadness, you will be best looked after here.”

Aurelia sighs and goes back to planning for what should be the happiest day of her life.

***********************************************************************

She left and retired to her quarters, while she knew the meeting was going on with Geta. She took to sitting on one of the many reading windows scattered throughout the main hall; a book on a love which seemed unrealistic at the start, which blossomed into something so strong that it could conquer for the ages to come. How ironic, she thought. Alba burst in through the doors in a mild panic, “My Lady, Emperor Geta wishes your presence in the courtyard to go for a walk.” Aurelia rises from her perch, leaving her book in its place.

She made her way down the vast hallway, and saw a tall figure at the end. She knew from the stature it was him, she bowed gently at him on approach, to which he offered his arm in which for her to link as they made their way into the courtyard.

The walk was silent, each taking in their surroundings and any activity they could hear going on. Geta broke the silence, “I spoke with Decimus and Faunus. They showed me the designs.” Aurelia looked at him through her long, dark lashes. “For a commoner, you have great taste. There were no amendments, all is to go as you planned.”

“Thank you, my Emperor.”

Geta groaned leaving Aurelia with a degree of fear, what did she do wrong? “Aurelia, what did I tell you last night? When we’re together and others are not around, it’s just Geta. No need for the pageantry.”

“Sorry Sire. I mean, Geta.” Geta looked at her with fierce eyes, then broke down laughing. He pulled her along as they began to walk once more. She sighed in relief, smiling to herself knowing she made him laugh.

“I appreciated the sentiment with the colour scheme. The pair told me of your desire to include my favourite colour.”

“I thought it only fair, considering it is both of our days.”

Geta hummed in agreement, “It made me realise that the union we have will solidify your loyalty to me and the empire. You will be greatly rewarded for your actions.”

Aurelia thanked him. Bravely, she spoke, “Geta. I wish to include my family at the festivities.” He stopped in his tracks, tensing at the idea. He stared intently at the woman, taking in her puppy-dog eyes, with her hair blowing in the wind. If his brother seen this weakness, he feared he would be ripped off the throne. What was it about her that made him go almost soft in nature?

“Okay.”

Aurelia stepped back in shock, “Do you truly mean it?”

“Yes. Prepare the letter, I will get one of the guards to deliver it.”

“Oh Geta, thank you!” Out of instinct, she jumped up and hugged the Emperor. He froze at the prospect of such tactile affection. Aurelia stepped back, and bowed her head, “Please forgive me for my outburst, it was unacceptable. I am sorry.”

Geta cleared his throat and took her arm once more, saying nothing but walking toward the direction of the living quarters once more. He dare not show the electricity that ran through him when she hugged him. That was weakness, and weakness? In his game? Costs lives.

***********************************************************************

Aurelia makes her way back to her quarters, and grabs her writing apparatus. She begins to pen a letter to her family;

“Dearest Mater, Pater, Evander and Claudius I hope this letter finds you all well.

I am writing to inform you that Emperor Geta and I request your presence at our marriage ceremony this coming Dies Vernes.

I would also like to affirm that I am well, and the palace life is treating me kind.

Dearest family, I wish only for your presence and kind support on this day.

Your loving daughter and sister, Aurelia”

She only wished could be more transparent of the occurrences, she feared a guard or other could see her writing so she felt it best to keep all neutral. Walking out of her quarters, she was met with a guard who was readily willing to accept her letter and deliver to her family. She curtly nodded and thanked the guard and sent him on his way.

Sighing she watched the guard walk down the hallway with authority, praying her family would see her request through.

Part 5

[mullermilkshake]

A lasting impression - Part three

Part one, Part two, Part three, part four (Coming soon)

Wife! Reader x Yakuza!Sukuna MINORS DNI 🔞 - Tags: NSFW, Wife! reader, Yakuza AU, established relationship, mentions of blood, gore, violence, kissing, heavy petting, smut to come.

"Sir," Uraume waited by the door of the car and opened it for Sukuna's exit.

"Where is she?" he slipped out of the car and moved with purpose towards the double doors of headquarters.

"Your wife is waiting for you in her study. I applied the necessary first aid and after care myself."

"Good. that'll be all for tonight, Uraume."

Sukuna left them behind and made his way towards his personal quarters towards the inner part of the property, private enough to scream bloody murder and no one would hear unless he wanted them to.

The only place in Ryomen headquarters that no one other than Uraume was permitted to enter.

A place where you and him could converse freely and live life as though the Yakuza world wasn't just waiting outside those outer doors.

No one dared to even look him in the eye when he marched himself down the hallways and left nothing but the padding of his bare feet on the wine red carpet to match the red all over his body.

Perhaps that was why everyone he passed looked away and bowed far deeper than usual. Not that he minded it at all. It was just the way things happened, including how he was covered head to toe in the blood of his enemies.

When Sukuna arrived at his private quarters, you were right where he expected you to be, sitting at your desk writing something in your leather bound journal.

He entered without knocking, knowing the ins and outs of the study with his eyes closed, knowing the art ladened walls and antique gold lined vase off in the corner like it was his own office. For no one, not even Uraume had access to.

You didn't initially react to his presence, still writing and nursing your cheek with an icepack. "Did you get it all out of your system?"

If it wasn't such a serious time, Sukuna would have chuckled at your attitude seeing as you knew him so well.

"For now," he closed the study door and made his way to the desk. "let me see your cheek."

He stroked the back of your hand with his index finger which prompted you to close your journal and settle the icepack down on the wooden surface.

"Are they dead, or just gravely injured?"

The bruising had taken a hold of your flawless skin, bright red and purple from impact so disgustingly placed on display for all to see. It stoked the pit of lava in Sukuna's stomach enough that he could go out and punch the next person he saw just to quell it for just a second.

It took a moment of loosing himself in your eyes for you to respond to the silence. "I don't think I need to ask, actually. Did you leave a note per chance?"

Sukuna thought back to Awasaka's disembowelled abdomen. "Of sorts."

His knuckle moved and grazed your cheek, dragging slowly and barely brushing past the injured skin so as to not cause you further pain.

Fuck, you were so beautiful. "This won't happen again. And when I find everyone involved, they are going to wish that they endured a quick death when I'm through with them."

Then, you responded to Sukuna in a way that caught him off guard. "Do what you need. Though if it pleases you, I hope you'll let me watch."

Now you weren't opposed to him using violence. You had seen your fair share in the time that Sukuna had known you, it was a fearless part that drew him to you in the first place. But openly asking to be a part was nothing you had voiced before.

He leant against the desk, propping himself onto it to look at you more clearly. "If that is what you want."

And for some reason, Sukuna felt that down to his very soul.

A characteristic that made him fall in love with you all over again.

The way you looked up at him just now, though he was still drenched in Awasaka's blood. Something lustrous and hungry, excited and feverish for an outcome only he could provide.

Sukuna would have given everything up to ensure your safety. His little kingdom, the wealth the Ryomen clan had accumulated, even his life.

Anything for you. Everything.

"I very much want it."

His strength, confidence and brash nature were traits that interested you, things that drew you too him like a bee to flower petals, just watching him from the background with your own perfect traits that collected Sukuna with magnetism.

You could handle yourself physically and most importantly, mentally. There wasn't a time he had ever really seen you loose yourself or seen you display emotions that were drastic. You didn't even loose your temper like people expected a person to.

Right now he knew you were seething, though from an outsiders perspective you were just sitting at your desk asking questions.

Sukuna's hand had cupped your cheek softly and cradled you, his thumb rubbing just short of your ear. "Then you shall have it."

It was rather abrupt, again, being out of the ordinary for you. You shot up from your seat and moved close to him, close enough to plant your palms flat on the desk either side of him.

"Good. Because I'm rather disappointed that I missed out on the show," you nodded to the red bloody marks all over his clothes and hands. "To think you did all this for me and I never even got to see the fun."

Shit. For a moment Sukuna was dumbstruck. Only for a moment before his cock did the thinking for him. If he was a better man, he would have showered first before touching you. but seeing you as you were, pressed close with your chest rising and falling stopped him thinking rationally.

What could he really say in response to that?

"Was it painful?" you eyed him closely, tracing your finger over his chest.

"Yes."

"Did they make you work for it?"

Sukuna finally found his footing and traced the curve of your hips under his palms. "Hardly."

"That's good," getting closer, your lips barely brushed his own, the splatters of blood never deterring you. "An easy fight can be pointless. But it still sure does work up an appetite."

Not even a second more, Sukuna did not allow you to breech the gap between you, he yanked you towards him so quick that teeth almost clashed together and took your lips like he was an extension of you.

He was going to have you right there over your desk.

Sukuna pulled away momentarily, scrunching your hair between his fingers as he inched up the back of your neck. "Having you, leaves me ravenous."

"Have your fill then," your teeth pinched at the edge of your bottom lip.

So he did, in a fluid motion Sukuna turned around and had you on the desk with your back flat against it. Objects and stationary slipped and crashed off of the desk along with the icepack.

Your hips were flush against his, legs wrapping passionately around his waist. His crotch was straining against the material already, begging to be let free right between your legs. The supple skin plush of your thighs sat like velvet under his fingertips, reacting to his touch with shudders.

"Who knew that getting your own way could make you even more tantalising?"

You were spoilt. Sukuna had spoiled you. And he loved it.

Everything and anything you asked, you got. Because he would always give in no matter how outrageous the request was.

Though you never asked of much. Just him.

It was Sukuna who gave you everything. And then you had requests like this.

To see you witness himself at his worst, covered in blood and full of rage so much that he enjoyed it. Absolutely jaw droppingly insatiable.

Much like now since most of the blood had dried, yet some still transferred on to your skin. Your slender fingers clawing at his shoulders leaving red in the fingerprints.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw, noses rubbing the other so that his lips ghosted over your own. In the six years you had been married two him, he had a good grasp on what you were thinking.

Your eyes watching him with adoration, did his look the same?

He loved you so much.

"Love me," you said, showing the smallest hint of vulnerability.

And he would, ten times over.

[skzaholix]

LOVE han jisung x reader w. maybe a little cringy but what is good love without cringe, this is gonna be a wilddd trip, jisungs mother isn't it... , lovesick!jisung gen. angst, fluff , starcrossed lovers sum. your world suddenly comes crumbling down when your lover feels as though you don't want him as much as he wants you so you choose to prove him that it isn't true. count. 2.8k

"they're a disgrace, jisung. do you want to love a disgrace?" the words replayed in your head as you sat rushed out of the home, jisung following quickly.

You both knew of each others feelings for one another, you both knew of the circumstances you both stood in but that wouldn't stop him, neither should it stop you, could it?

" y/n wait , i know what she said back there is bad but-" he attempted to find an excuse for his mothers words yet his mouth ran dry at the thought of any.

you sigh, discouraged and tired as rain poured onto you in heavy bunches, an uncomfortable feeling at best. "jisung-"

"oh how i hate when you call me that." he yells over the loud patters, not bothering for safety as he runs faster, grabbing onto you.

"ji, i'm sorry but i think we should just stop trying... i mean, no one wants us together and no matter what we try it never works." you turn to look at him, the rain covering up whats meant to be tears

"we just have to try harder, love. and if not, i don't think their opinions matter at all." he says, worry in his eyes as he calculates the possible outcome of this

"no ji, you don't understand. you're not the one being berated everywhere because of your social classing" you pull your arm from his grasp, looking at him with a cold stare.

he had never seen you in such a light towards him, perhaps he deserved it but who would he be if not a fighter for something he truly held valuable.

"okay, you're right i'm sorry-" he said huffing out a breath.

"no you're not sorry, you're selfish." you stare at him, expression blank as tears continued to fall with each passing blink.

his expression changed from one of worry to one of desperation.

"I'm... selfish?" he asked, his eyes saddening as he frowned.

"yes! you force me into this stupid relationship when all i get is reprimanded so yes, you're selfish."

you truly didn't mean it. jisung was persistant, he'd fight for something no matter what but you were tired, endlessly being dehumanized at the hands of anyone with any superiority.

"I thought you wanted- I thought you liked me..." he breathed heavily, his mind racing with many thoughts as he tried to mask the hurt. It was scary, how well he'd done it though, his eyes now showing a cold glare.

"Fine. I don't even know why I bothered, got my clothes all soaked for nothing." He said, his stare intense on you before he walked back into his home almost robotically.

your heart hurt as you watched him walk back into his home but you knew maybe it was all for the better.

The campus cafeteria buzzed with loud chatter as everyone prepared for lunch. Jisung sat at a table across the cafeteria from you but yet his eyes never seemed to stop looking at you. You were reading a book, paying little to no attention to your food.

Felix stared at Jisung with concern before following his gaze. "you alright? why don't you just go over there and sit with them?" He said, waking Jisung from his trance. "We're.. not together anymore," he said quietly before felix looked at him with a look of sympathy.

"Oh... I'm sorry," he replied as the table for the two had gotten quiet, of course before seungmin ruined the silence.

"Why are you watching them like a hawk then?" Seungmin asked, sliding his tray of food next to Felix's, giving a blank stare despite his ruthless remark, earning a glare from felix.

"Don't they look a little bad? I mean- not bad just... like they've been through a breakup and are upset?" Jisung was down bad, feeding off delusions in his head to prove to him that what you said wasn't true.

"No, they look the-" Seungmin starts, only to be stopped by Felix.

"I'm sure they're just as hurt as you are hyung" Felix suggests causing Jisung to nod.

Truth be told, you were. You'd taken a lot of effort to even get out of bed today and get ready, not to mention the self torment and strain you had to endure even trying not to look his way, it was torture.

Hyunjin appears at the boys table, his eyes squinted as he looked at the faces around him. "What's going on?"

"He's going through a breakup." Seungmin says, pointing at Jisung before going back to chewing on his food.

"A breakup? I think I have a good idea for you to get over it" Hyunjin suggest, cleaning closer to Jisung who only pushes him away.

"I don't wanna get over it. I want them" He pouts, covering his face in mental torment.

" this isn't right for your mental, maybe you should try to move on..." Felix says, bringing a hand to pat the man on his head.

"Right. That's why I suggest you go out with Yunhee" Hyunjin says with a smile on his face as Jisung glares at him.

"What?"

"Cmon, she's has a crush on you. She has had for a long time. Its way better than unrequited love."

"Hyun, that would be unrequited love" Felix says to which Hyunjin shakes off.

"He can fall in love with her, you can't fall inlove again, everyone knows that." Hyunjin says as Jisung sighs deeply.

"If i do it, will you shut up?" he asked, his eyes bored as Hyunjin nods with a smile.

You felt maybe you were doing right and that as time moved on you'd only get better. Yet, the thing is that the heart wants what it wants and the feeling of being happy will only be there for but so long before you're longing that true happiness once more.

That's exactly how you felt as you watched Jisung walk down the hall with Yunhee, the same girl who's always had a 'crush' on Jisung.

Yunhee was a bit of a childish person, spoiled, bratty, but luckily for her, rich.

she was also your mortal enemy who took it upon herself, even now at her big age to want whatever you wanted, even the things she knew you couldn't have, for example, Jisung.

You knew she didn't like him, she and her friends would joke about it everyday, stealing him from you just to see you with nothing.

She was using him, using your jisung.

"Hey ynnie!" You heard a bright cheery voice behind you belonging to no other than Felix.

You turned around to look at him, a playful grin on your face. "Aren't you Jisung's friend now? I saw you sitting with him yesterday."

He tilted his head, pouting. "Can't a guy have friends? I feel like a child of divorce."

You roll your eyes. "Why is jisung with Yunhee?" You ask, nudging your head towards the two.

Felix gives you a knowing look, a small smirk on his face. "Why? Jealous?"

You glance at him, scowling. "I just think it's ironic someone who says he's so hurt about a relationship is back with someone else in less than 72 hours" you cross your arms.

Felix nods, "Don't worry, he's just doing it for Hyunjin, they'll either be linked by the arm or complete strangers by time the college christmas party is over depending on how well they're communicating"

linked by the arm.

meaning dating?

obviously y/n.

uh oh.

truly you hadn't seen this one coming, you obviously weren't expecting for him to find someone else so quickly whilst you were still mourning. for that same person to be the one who never even cared about him.

you left hurt him just for him to be hurt again. there's no way you'd let yunhee go through with whatever trick she was going planning.

so you tried, speaking to him for the first time in what felt like forever

Jisung sat in the chair of the music room by himself as he looked over the notes for a song he'd been learning on guitar.

You'd been there everytime he let you listen to the rough drafts of his finishing project; it felt a little bittersweet hearing the finished version.

He played the notes softly, his eyes intently staring at the paper before he pushed his glasses up on his nose, letting out a sigh.

"Whoever's standing there you don't have to be a stalker, make yourself known" he said bluntly, causing you a little panic.

"Sorry..." You muttered but he recognised your voice instantly, his eyes widening as he quickly glanced back, putting his facade back on once more.

"What do you want?" His tone was cold, much like yours on the night you broke his heart.

"Can we talk?" You ask quietly, pushing the door to the music room closed a bit.

He let out another sigh, this time deeper and sounded annoyed. "What?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Yunhee" You started and the delusions in his mind almost made him think you were jealous, causing his heart to beat a little faster at the possibility.

"What? Are you upset i'm with someone else?" His tone and his heart are speaking two different languages because his tone is cold and upset but his heart is longing for you to want him, to accept him as much as he does you, if only he knew.

"What? No no, I just- Yunhee is only gonna hurt you, i don't think you should go out with her." You admit honestly, a look of concern in your eyes as you try to mask the feeling of hurt.

He scoffs, letting out a harsh laugh before standing. "You can't be hypocritical, y/n. It isn't a good look on you." he brushed past you before you could even get a chance at speaking.

Another thing about Jisung was that he was stubborn, very stubborn. And yet so were you.

A few days later, Jisung sat at the table with Felix, chewing on some carrot sticks they served which honestly were the first time they ever tasted fresh like they did today.

You rushed over, placing your hands on the table as a halt, getting the attention from both boys before Jisung looked back down at his food quickly.

"Ji..." You spoke, trying to get his attention.

"Jisung please..." You begged, walking over to the opposite side of the table to sit with him, gesturing to felix that now wasn't the best time to sit there to which he took the hint.

"Ji-"

"What do you want this time." He said, his eyes never landing on you, his attention only focused on the orange vegetable.

"Listen i'm sorry about what I said, i never meant to hurt you.."

"That's not gonna make me any less hurt, y/n. If this is an attempt at getting Yunhee gone, it's not working." He said bluntly.

"What? Jisung no-" He scowled at the name again.

"You know, you don't want me, neither do you want anyone else to. do you just hate me, y/n?" He asked, now staring at you with a death glare. If looks could kill, you'd be ready to be shipped off in a coffin.

You sit in shock and silence at his words, causing him to scoff in disbelief, standing up as he collects his stuff.

You manage to grab his hand when he walks by but he pulls it out of your grasp before you can even get a word out.

Two weeks has passesd since you last interacted with Jisung and everytime he sees you, he avoids you like the plague. You've come to the conclusion that he is complately done with you, that you're both done. It hurt like hell, you could barely even force yourself out of bed for the first week, let alone focus on anything besides the fact that you lost the greatest thing life can give you.

It was now lunchtime and you sat at your usual spot, now more caught up in a book than ever, anything to distract yourself from looking over across the cafeteria where they could see you. Luckily for Jisung, as you would've caught him staring at you from afar.

"Goodness, they look like they haven't been eating. You guys think its my fault? Fuck, i'm so stupid." Jisung scolds himself, covering his face as he tries to hide the tears threatening to slip.

"Han, I don't think you should be worrying about your ex when you have a nice date tonight with your new date." Hyunjin says although his still pats his back for comfort.

Han breathes in for a second, nodding slowly as he wipes the tears from his face, Felix's eyes filling with concern before his eyes glow with oppurtunity.

"Alright fine, this'll be the last date before i go off to weep in misery" He says before sighing deeply.

Felix turns up to your home with a big smile on his face, as he explains his idea of you finally speaking to Jisung, and tells you that Jisung also is going through a rough time and is only mad at you because he thinks you don't love him.

So thats how you end up at the party, standing awkwardly. You'd had over 6 drinks of some random non alcoholic drink to keep yourself from looking too awkward but now you've got to pee.

you walk to the bathroom which is very close but stop when you hear a conversation and familiar voices.

"jisung? nah i only need him to get back at y/n, remember?"

"ah, you think he actually is starting to like you yet?"

"that'd be a bummer, but it may benefit his parent's are rich. probably the only reason that bitch wants him."

"right, that's genius"

their conversation made your blood boil. she not only was using him to get back at you but she also was using him to get free money?

even if you couldn't win him back, you'd get your revenge before she thought of doing whatever she wanted to.

she walked out of ther bathroom, watching you stand there with a glare on her face. "Privacy much? no one asked you to be a stalker."

you stared at her , rage filling your eyes before you looked into your 7th cup, filled with juice inside, throwing it right into her face.

convienetly enough, Jisung was right outside the door to the bathrooms so he heard the loud shriek she gave and came inside, only to find you standing there holding a red solo cup outside down, leaking small drops of red juice onto the tile floors, causing Jisung to cringe before he walked over to you, looking at you in disbelief.

He grabbed your arm, softly, pulling you out of the bathroom and into a room more quiet, ignoring the screams from Yunhee.

He paced the room as you sat on a desk in the from, looking at him.

"What the hell was that?" He finally asked, looking at you.

"Ji- she said something bad about you! why are you upset with me?"

He glared at you, this time in an unrecognizable way. it was neither angry, nor cold, just frustrated?

"You... You confuse me Y/n. " This gets you to look up at him, your mouth dry, unable to answer.

"You tell me you love me, and want to fight, for me then you go and tell me i'm selfish when you cloud up every fucking thought I have, not even the valuables you say I want so bad can even match your value, how much I want you." Your eyes widen, unable to speak; he doesn't want you to anyways, he's not finished.

"Then you act all sweet and hurt, making me hurt for you yret, you can't even say no when I ask if you hate me and now... you're.. you're fighting someone for saying they want to hurt me, making me all fucked up."

The room is in complete in silence as you two stare at each other, desperation and shock in both of your eyes.

"say something please... do you love me? If you don't... I'll try, I'll get over it"

"ji... I do... I really really do but-"

"oh you know I hate it when you say "but" ..." he groans a little, moving closer as his eyes fill with desperation.

" I don't wanna go through that again... and I know it's unfair and downright selfish for me not to want you to move on but I just... I want you..."

he stares at you with hearts in his eyes as he softly grabs your arms.

"I'll do something about it... I promise it'll stop just next time tell me about this stuff, I can't lose you again, especially not like this." he says, staring into your eyes.

the room falls silent once more before you pull him into a passionate kiss, one filled with desperation, longing, and the taste of peppermint candy canes on his tongue.

"I love you, y/n so so so much."

"I love you so so so much as well, hanji"

AUTHORS NOTE: hello everyone this is the first part of amore, mio !! this was honestly a plot I had been drifting back and forth from but basically I can say I honestly got the whole idea for this series based on @dearbrisky ( this is a different plot than you asked for i apologize) asking for hopeless romantic hanji so i decided why not do a love trope for all members . I also wrote this all in the middle of the night and its not quite proofread so please tell me if there are any gendered terms used in here !! i'm also not the best writer so please do tell me if this writing g pace felt like whiplash

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 76: Oliver's Rescue

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, captivity, conditioning, drugging, blood ritual

October 1925

Oliver.

His master's song was muffled and far away, but still carried his name. Oliver tried to respond, but he couldn't seem to move.

Wake up.

His eyelids were like lead, his body stiff and heavy. The world tilted and dipped, and he realized that he was being carried.

Wake up, Oliver.

His master sounded scared, desperate. Why…

Oliver remembered what had happened, the fight with the vampire hunter, how he'd allow himself to be taken in the hopes that his master would be spared. The voice echoing in his head at least meant that his master was still alive, and communicating with him through the link between them that he rarely used.

If he was now in the clutches of the hunter, he definitely didn't want her to realize that he was awake. Instead, he kept his eyes shut tight and did his best to reach out to the voice in his head.

The communication wasn't in words, exactly, but in feelings and in song, and Oliver felt slow and clumsy as he tried to connect. He could feel his master's concern, and he did his best to convey that he was drugged, but unharmed.

The mental conversation was interrupted by a woman's voice. "Oh god, is that Oliver?"

"I sure hope so," said the hunter, "because it was like hell to rescue him."

"What's wrong with him? Is he okay?" The woman's voice seemed vaguely familiar, but Oliver couldn't quite place it in his foggy mind.

"I had to put him to sleep. I botched it and failed to kill his master. That means he could alert his master to the location of the safehouse if he figures out where he is -- and his master is a terrifyingly dangerous vampire. If you don't want to end up a thrall again…"

"He would do that?"

Oliver felt a pang of guilt at the sadness in the woman's voice, particularly since he had, in fact, just been communicating with his master. But he only wanted Alexander to retrieve him, not to harm anyone else, not even this hunter.

"Unfortunately, yes. Given his master's skills, it's safe to say that Oliver is a danger to everyone here. That's why I'll have to prepare to unenthrall him right away, and we'll have to make sure he can't escape or figure out where he is in the meantime."

The guilt was replaced by panic as Oliver tried to somehow relay this information to Alexander through their limited connection. Oliver wasn't sure if he understood, but he did feel a surge of anger in response, one which rippled through him as though it were his own.

"Shit, he's awake."

Oliver's eyes flew open, and he was looking into the face of the hunter who had kidnapped him, who had been carrying him princess-style through what looked like a run-down house. With his cover blown, he struggled out of the hunter's arms, only to flop ungracefully on the floor, still heavily drugged.

"Oliver!"

The face of the other woman swam into view, and he realized who the voice belonged to.

"Emily?" he croaked, his mouth parched.

"Help me restrain him," said the hunter sternly, hauling Oliver up by his armpits. "I'll need some extra time to prepare the ritual, and we have to make sure he can't escape."

"I don't want a ritual," Oliver protested weakly. "Just let me go. I don't need to be rescued."

"Get the sleeping draught from my bag and splash some under his nose. Be careful not to breathe it yourself."

"All right."

With his limbs still clumsy and slow, Oliver couldn't manage to get away from the hunter's strong arms holding him from behind. All he could do was thrash and hold his breath as Emily followed the hunter's instructions and smeared some of the potent sleeping potion under his nose. Even as he tried to hold his breath, he could still smell the sickly sweetness, his head starting to spin.

"That's good," said the hunter in his ear. "I know you don't believe me now, but I'm trying to help you."

Oliver wanted to protest further. He did know what the hunter was doing, he really did, but she just didn't understand his particular situation. He wasn't like Emily, whose master was planning to discard her the moment she was bored. Alexander needed him.

Didn't he?

But he'd thought about getting away before, hadn't he? When he first learned about Alexander's sire, and even before that, back in the auction house…

His head swirled with confusion as the sleeping concoction began to take hold once again. He found he couldn't offer any resistance as the hunter pulled him onto a chair and tied his arms and legs down, placing a blindfold around his eyes.

"I'm sorry I have to do this," she said, "but it really is for your own good. You'll see."

As Oliver's thoughts began to fade, he could hear the increasingly frantic music of his master, trying to reach him, but to no avail.

---

When Oliver was finally able to crack open his eyes again, he had no idea if he'd been out for five minutes or five hours. The ropes binding him into the chair chafed his wrists, and he felt stiff.

"Oh, are you awake? Vivian said you might wake up again before she was ready."

He managed to lift his heavy head, still disoriented. He was in the same dingy house as before, in a room that was mostly empty except for his chair and one other. Emily was sitting in an armchair reading the newspaper, looking very different than she had the last time Oliver had seen her, dressed in a plain blue shirt and khaki pants instead of a stylish dress and heels.

"Please don't put me back to sleep," he said. "I just want to talk." His master's song had faded from his head, giving him a little more space to think.

She put down the newspaper. "All right, but Vivian told me to put you back to sleep if you cause any trouble."

"Is Vivian the vampire hunter?"

"Yeah. She rescued me." Emily was staring at Oliver as though sizing him up. "She's trying to save people from vampires. I owe her everything. You remember me, don't you?"

"I do," said Oliver.

"I told her to go find you, since I felt guilty about what happened in the auction house, that I couldn't help you when you were being hypnotized. Now we're even, or we will be, I guess."

"You didn't have to do that," said Oliver. "I'm glad you got out. Your master…" He shuddered thinking of Emily with her mind gone, the way Jessica had done the same to him in only a moment. "She was awful. And she was going to throw you away. You didn't deserve that."

"I appreciated that, you know. When you tried to stand up for me in front of all the vampires. I didn't really understand what you were trying to say then, but I do now," she said. "And Vivian's going to do the same thing for you. She'll free you from enthrallment."

Oliver's gut churned. A part of him certainly felt like he should want it -- but more in the way that one feels one should want to do chores or exercise or tedious errands. He should want his mind restored, to be free of the vampires' influence…

…but it had been good for him, hadn't it? The situation forced him to admit to himself a truth he was trying to avoid -- that he had been drifting through life with no real purpose. He'd spent so many lonely, dull days in the bookstore, his only highlights a new acquisition or a particularly interesting customer. But with the vampires, he'd felt useful. Fulfilled. He'd tasted bliss, even if it was artificial…

"She doesn't need to do that," said Oliver. "I know it probably sounds crazy, but I was fine with my master. He treats me well, and I'm happy, and I really don't have anyone who's looking for me or anything that important to go back to, to be honest."

"What about your bookshop?" she demanded. "The entire time we were locked up, that's all you talked about, all the improvements you wanted to make to your bookshop. Remember?"

"Of course I do." He could never forget the bookshop, the place where he'd spent the vast majority of his life from childhood. He knew every nook and cranny so well, the smell of dust and book bindings, the way certain floorboards creaked, the uneven stairs up to his apartment, his comfortable chair piled with lumpy blankets. And he remembered being so desperate to get back there. When had he stopped thinking about his bookshop?

"Then you know you need to get back there, right?"

"Yes, I do, but…" The thought of his master's song, of the loneliness in his eyes, pulled him back. Oliver had been lonely, too. The idea of returning to his bookshop alone and resuming his former life felt strangely cold. "My master also needs me. I keep him company, and I help him get to sleep, and I…"

"Let him drink your blood."

Heat rose in Oliver's face as he thought of it, unwilling to fully admit to himself how much he would miss that particular aspect of his new life. "Yes, but -- he gives me so much in return. And it isn't so bad, really. It's -- it's pleasant, almost, in a strange way."

Emily sighed. "If you could listen to yourself… I remember you telling me how much you didn't want them to take your mind, how you hated the idea of being food for some monster, and now you're blushing and stammering just to think about it. The vampires really did do a number on you, didn't they? Not that I can talk. I had my memories completely erased, and they still aren't fully back."

"I'm sorry they did that to you," he said, and meant it. "I do know what I said then, but that was before I knew what it would be like. My master -- Alexander really has been kind to me, and I've enjoyed living with him, and not just because I was hypnotized. I mean, I was allowed to keep most of my mind…"

"Allowed to keep your mind?" she said. "Oliver, you're completely wrapped around that vampire's fingers."

"I'm not --"

"Don't you remember that I saw you at the Tiger's Eye? You were fawning all over that vampire's lap, letting him dote on you like a house cat."

Oliver was about to retort and point out that she was no different -- but that would only prove her point, considering how clearly ensorcelled she'd been. Was that how he had looked to other people? He had hardly considered it, too used to only being in the company of vampires and thralls.

Emily must be right. He really was that far under his master's spell, wasn't he? How could he ever think otherwise?

"But it's okay," she said. "Vivian has a ritual to undo most of the enthrallment. You'll be free."

"Free." It should be a joyous thing, so why did it feel like having a bucket of ice water upended over him?

Everything he had felt between his capture and now, had it all been a fabrication, a hypnotic illusion? The warm and comforting evenings, his deep satisfaction at serving his master, even those traces of affection? Was it all a lie, a soap bubble that could be so easily popped?

And the way his master wanted him and cherished him, refused to let him go, was that also just an act to keep Oliver in line?

"Hey, are you okay?" Emily asked. "I know it's a lot to think about."

Oliver nodded, trying not to cry. As much as he knew he should be grateful for the rescue, a greater part of him wished he were still back in the manor, his quiet evening uninterrupted, curled next to his master and reading to his heart's content.

Was it really so terrible, to be lost in an illusion? He'd spent his entire life with his mind three-quarters of the way in a book at all times. Was this so different?

But no matter how much he desired it, he'd never be truly safe with Alexander, not with the threat of his sire looming over them both. Freedom meant he'd never have to feel that sickening control wrap around his limbs ever again, never again blinded and degraded and forced to dance. Even as he thought it, though, he doubted it could be so easy. Could this hunter actually defy that vampire? Was a witch's ritual enough to deliver Oliver from his clutches?

The stairs creaked, and the vampire hunter entered the room. She'd divested herself of most of her kit, but that silver knife, the one she'd pressed against Oliver's neck, was still strapped to her belt. Behind her, a woman with red hair and a gray housecoat stood, looking a bit dazed.

"Oh, he's awake," said Vivian. "How are you feeling, Oliver?"

"I've had better nights," he said. He dimly remembered how he'd felt when Lily had him dragged him out of his cell, the loss of his mind inevitable. Why did he feel exactly like that now?

"You'll feel better once we've freed you from the vampire's hold on your mind," she said. "Well, you may feel worse before you feel better, but that's only because it can be hard to use your own mind again."

Oliver nodded. What else could he do? The ropes bit into his wrists.

"Emily, is it safe to untie him, or is he going to try and escape?"

Emily shook her head. "I don't think it's safe. He's very far gone."

Oliver wanted to protest, but he wasn't sure himself, torn between what he wanted and what he knew he should want.

"All right. I'll just untie him from the chair and leave the rest of his binds. Jenny, can you help?"

Vivian and the woman with her, Jenny, began to untie him from the chair, but as instructed, his wrists and ankles were still firmly bound together, preventing him from moving much. Vivian picked him up in her strong arms as though he were a sack of potatoes, and made her way back to the stairs. Oliver didn't bother to try and struggle, knowing it would be fruitless.

Emily and Jenny helped Vivian maneuver her parcel up the stairs and into the attic, and Oliver's chest tightened to see the chalk circles on the floor, stained in blood. So this was it -- and his desire to be back home with his master overtook any other sense in him. He involuntarily squirmed and thrashed, and the women nearly dropped him.

"Let me go!" he said. "I've changed my mind, I don't want this! Just let me go back!"

"Hold onto him! Get him in the circle!"

Master, he called out in his mind. Master, where are you?

He was placed in the middle of the circle, unable to stand or do anything but writhe like a pathetic worm.

"Just close your eyes and try to relax, Oliver." Vivian knelt in the circle in front of him, taking out her silver knife, and he flinched away from it. "You'll be glad that we helped you. I promise."

Master!

The connection to Alexander returned, and Oliver was overwhelmed with the feeling of despair and panic, adding to his own. He knew what his master was trying to say, that he didn't know where Oliver was, and Oliver couldn't offer any useful information. Even if he could, it'd be far too late.

Vivian sliced open her own hand and dripped her blood into the circle, chanting low. The music inside Oliver rose to a frantic crescendo. He felt something smeared on his forehead, couldn't flinch away in time.

It was too late.

The music stopped.

Previous > Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading about a man who was enthralled.

Important Note: There will be no new Bookseller chapters for the next two Sundays! I hope to occasionally post some other work you may enjoy, though. Bookseller will return in December.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped @anoontjecanush @cepheusgalaxy

@whump-me-harder @whump-till-ya-jump @the-monarch-whumperfly @ium1naryy