#your honor I’m sorry but the evidence is there

[solmicans]

every time I rewatch bbc merlin I think “perhaps I’m misremembering how often it’s gay” and every time I am reminded ah. there’s just not any plausible heterosexual interpretation for 80% of these storylines

[beloveds-embrace]

hiiiiii~!

im addicted to historical manhwa so when I stumbled upon your whole Dukedom141 x Reader which btw I rly love so so much especially the baby longing part 🥺😩

anywayyy, I had this sudden imagines where dear Reader is a childhood bestie to the Crown Prince(who views him only platonically but prince were in romantically one-sided) 👀 ops drama

im rly craving for jealousy troupe bc of how rare they are in tf141xR. they weren't all together yet so how would dukedom141 react when they all saw how close, intimate ish the c. prince was to the reader? they cant do much bc well yea he's the prince of the kingdom, and they just feel/know the prince is in love w/ her too. how can they cope with it? what would their actions be? 🤔🤔 i kinda see the men were plastic fake smiles to the prince and then spoil reader w/ their love languages instead to erase any thoughts of the flirty things the prince did from her mind and just confused why the sudden extra attention to her lmaoo 🤭 but opcorss will love to read your take in this!

if ur free to do this prompt fic, sending my love to you in advance! 😗👉🏻💝💖💗💓💞💕

Sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoy this <33

Dukedom au masterlist

Price clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his glass of brandy as he tried- tried- not to let the Crown Prince’s laugh, so carefree and loud, set his teeth further on edge. The Prince’s hand had lingered far too long against the small of your back when he guided you through the ballroom earlier. And now? Now, Price had to sit back and watch as the Prince leaned far too close, his eyes dancing with mischief as he whispered something that had you giggling behind your gloved hand.

“Does he always look at her like that?” Simon’s voice was low, but the tension was evident, nearly vibrating out of him. He stood beside Price, posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back as if that might keep him from marching over and physically removing the man from your side.

“He’s always been like this with her,” John grunted, taking a sip of his drink. It didn’t help ease the sharp taste of bitterness on his tongue. “Childhood friends, they are. Grew up together in the capital.”

“Friends.” Simon scoffed, his eyes following the Prince’s every movement as he twirled you around on the dance floor, his grip firm but tender on your waist. “He’s in love with her. Anyone can see that.”

“Don’t you think I already know that?” John growled under his breath.

You laughed again, your head tilting back, and the sound carried through the grand hall like music. It wasn’t that John and Simon weren’t used to your laughter- it was the way the Prince seemed to be the one causing it, soaking in every moment as if it were his lifeline.

“Can’t do a bloody thing about it either, not in public,” Simon muttered darkly.

They both knew it. The Crown Prince was untouchable, politically and socially. They couldn’t just step in without causing offense or worse- humiliating you.

So instead, they forced themselves to endure it. Forced themselves to wear the kind of smiles that barely reached their eyes when you and the Prince eventually approached, your grin widened with exertion from the dancing.

“My dukes,” the Prince greeted, eyes gleaming. “I hope you don’t mind that I stole your lovely Duchess for a few dances. She’s quite the partner- though I’m sure you already knew that.”

Price smiled. It was tight, controlled. “We’re honored by your attention, Your Highness.”

Simon, however, simply gave a low hum, eyes never leaving the Prince’s hand as it trailed lightly down your arm before he finally let go.

Neither of them could do more than stand there as the Prince leaned in to kiss the back of your hand before excusing himself, promising another dance later in the evening.

The second he was gone, however, Simon leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You’re dancing with me next.”

And John? John was already mentally drafting plans to ensure the Prince’s next visit would be delayed indefinitely.

The Price Duchy was alive with movement and excitement during the Crown Prince’s unexpected visit. Servants bustled, maids rushed to prepare the best rooms, and Kyle and Johnny… well, Kyle and Johnny were trying their damned hardest not to glare daggers at the man who seemed to think it was his home.

“God, look at him.” Johnny hissed as they stood just outside the parlor doors, peeking in through the gap to where the Prince sat beside you. He was leaning in, speaking softly enough that Johnny couldn’t make out the words, but he could see the way your eyes flitted about, bashful and happy.

“He’s too close.” Kyle muttered, his grip tightening around the tray he held.

Your hand rested lightly on the Prince’s arm, your expression warm and relaxed as you laughed at something he said. It wasn’t fair how easy it was for him to make you laugh.

“He’s enjoying this too much,” Johnny said, voice dark and low. “Thinks he can just waltz in here and take all her attention?”

Kyle gave him a side glance. “Don’t let the Duke hear you say that. He’s already half-ready to call off trade agreements if it’d mean keeping him away.”

The Prince leaned closer again, face soft and hands gentle for you, and Johnny had to bite down a curse.

They weren’t allowed to do anything about it- not when it was the bloody Prince himself. But they could fix it.

That evening, they wasted no time executing their plan.

Kyle practically hovered as you settled into the sitting room with your embroidery, immediately offering to fetch you tea and desserts- all your favorites. Johnny sat himself down beside you, offering to entertain you with far better stories than that Prince could ever hope to know.

When you smiled, they felt victorious.

When you sighed in delight over the sweets and laughed over Johnny’s tales, they felt invincible.

Neither mentioned the Prince at all, and neither gave you any opportunity to dwell on his visit. Instead, they drowned you in their attention, making you laugh until your sides ached, ensuring your mind was too full of their affections to even think about whatever flirty nonsense the Prince had whispered earlier.

By the end of the night, when they escorted you to your chambers and bid you goodnight with lingering touches to your hands and cheeks, both Kyle and Johnny felt a smug sense of satisfaction.

Because you were theirs, and no prince- no matter how charming or influential- would ever change that.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

CW: Mentions of dying, Impostor SAGAU

Summary: After being declared an imposter, you decide to duel to defend your honor rather than stand trial.

Note: Fontaine is amazing. I’m loving every bit of it rn especially Neuvillette, Navia, and Chlorinde.

If you haven’t finished the Fontaine Archon quest, please exit stage left.

Part Two Part Three

-

You never even made it to the Court Of Fontaine before you were confronted by Focalors, the Hydro Archon, of being an imposter of the Creator of Teyvat. In her own eccentric way, she throws accusations at you. ‘To take the face of the Creator is not only a crime in Fontaine but in all of Teyvat!’

You deny her claims but she only laughs, ‘you’re acting ignorant, as if you do not know who the Creator is. Do you have any evidence to prove your innocence?’

You look down, there was no evidence you had that would prove to her and everyone else that this was the face you were born with, or that you never heard of this Creator before.

“The trial of the Century” is what the Steambird called it.

The Opera House was as full as ever, many people wanting to see the verdict the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale would give or wanting to see the one who dared to imitate Their Grace.

Maybe it was out of spite or your own foolishness, but you never allowed the trial to fully begin. Turning to Neuvillette, you declare that you want to duel rather than stand trial.

Despite the protests of Focalors, who wanted to prosecute you, the wish is granted.

The weight of the sword felt unbearable in your clammy hands as you stared at your opponent. Champion Duelist Clorinde stares back nonchalantly, her face not giving any clues on how she felt in this moment. However you heard rumors that she personally requested to duel you.

You readjusted your grip on the hilt as you fix your stance.

Was this truly the correct course of action? To fight and prove your innocence when you know that there’s no way you can win?

No it didn’t matter, you can’t back out now.

The crowd watches eagerly waiting for the duel to begin, how could the people of Fontaine do this? You were a real person and they acted as if you were a character on stage and the play was about to reach it’s final act. The excited looks on their face made your blood boil. If you somehow manage to make it out of this, you would make them pay.

You take one final glance at Furina before the duel commences.

Clorinde wastes no time to strike, using her electro vision, she effortlessly knocks your sword out of your hand and drags her blade down your torso.

Whether her fatal blow was an act of mercy or a warning for anyone else who dared to take the Creators face, the duel was over as soon as it started.

But…

No this couldn’t be right…

Clorinde looks down at her weapon, the golden ichor that dripped onto the floor caused her eyes to widen as she looks at your limp body by her feet.

She immediately drops her weapon as she kneel not caring as the blood began to stain her clothing. Her hands press against your chest to slow the bleeding as she calls out to the crowd.

“We need a doctor!”

A medical team rushes down to your side making haste to attend to your wounds, your vision begins to blur as the mortified looks of Fontaine citizens watch in despair hoping that your life could be saved.

Furina, who sat at the top like always, quickly backs away before anyone could question her. How could she face her people when she was the one who laid these accusations at your feet? How could she face you?

She prays, hoping that an act of mercy could be given to her and her people, how could she call herself an Archon now?

The original publication by the Steambird was quickly scrapped and replaced with “The Creator of Teyvat Falsely Accused of being an Imposter.”

And it didn’t take long for the devastating news to reach the other nations too.

Sorry I had to write a little something for SAGAU Fontaine but now I will return to the requests everyone sent 🏃🏽‍♀️

© avocad1s 2023

[xiaq]

Story time: Amazon can go fuck itself, and other genteel thoughts.

Good evening. I’m angry.

Up until now, I’ve purchased the majority of items I can’t thrift from Amazon because it’s easy and cost-effective, despite the moral qualms I have about the company. Previously, support was simple. If an item was damaged or a package didn’t arrive, you hopped on chat/the phone, provided proof, and they gave you a refund or return label.

But some shitstain from on high has introduced a new “incident report” process when something goes wrong. You submit your details, you wait 72 hours, and then they give you a refund. This would also be fine. If it fucking worked. But I have, at this point, irrefutable evidence that this is not actually how the process is intended to work. It’s meant to drive you so far up the wall that you either die from a stress-induced heart attack, or rage quit, and they get to keep your money.

In the last several months, I’ve had to submit three incident reports for damaged and undelivered items (I’m also encountering a lot more issues with item delivery, but that’s a different story).

ALL THREE TIMES, the process has taken weeks rather than days because ALL THREE TIMES they conveniently “had no record” of multiple incident reports I submitted despite the fact that I had confirmation emails each and every time.

Now, I’m a petty bitch, so even though the hours I was spending checking in, waiting on hold on the phone, being passed from agent to agent, was not worth the $10 and $20 refunds I was trying to get them to honor, I wasn’t going to give up. This last time, though. Oh they really tried.

So. My item isn’t delivered. I submit an incident report on the 12th and get my confirmation email of the submission on the 12th. I haven’t heard back by the 14th so I call and check. Shockingly, they have no record of my report. I submit another one, get another confirmation email. I call back the next day to check they received it. They have not. I beg them to let me forward the confirmation emails I have. I ask what else I can do different. They tell me to submit a new report and hang up on me. I submit another report. I receive another confirmation email. I call the next day. Can you guess? They have no record of it. This time, I ask for them to stay on the line with me while I submit a new report and confirm it’s been received. He confirms receipt and promises I will receive a response by the 21st. I record this conversation because I have a suspicion.

Hello. It is the 21st. Have I received a response? No. I call back. THIS ASSHOLE, who I’m pretty sure is reading this shit from a script, says, (are you ready for this) “There’s no record of an incident report, you’ll need to submit one.” I insist that I had confirmation in writing and verbally. She insists it does not exist.

So I tell her. I now have four confirmation emails. I have a recording of an Amazon support person with their credentials assuring me with the product number stated, that they’ve received my report. I also have been recording this conversation. And if she cannot assist me, I will be posting those emails and both recordings to every social media platform I have, filing a BBB complaint, and checking with my lawyer to see what options I have for legal action (do I have a lawyer? Of course not. But she doesn’t know that).

Immediately, she is backpedaling. “Oh, let me check again, maybe I missed it.” Less than 30 seconds later she’s back on the line. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, I do have your report here. I will process a refund now.” Shocking. I am shocked.

IT SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS MUCH EFFORT TO GET A COMPANY TO HONOR THEIR PROMISED LEVEL OF SUPPORT.

Jesus Christ.

B and I will be finding different local places to purchase items we tend to buy via Amazon now, because I have every intention of ending our Prime membership. It looks like between Costco and Target we should be covered.

Anyway. No point to this except to rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to go lay under the weight of my dog and try to get my heart rate down.

[t1red-twilight]

don’t call me “d”

summary: a girl pushes herself onto dean during a case.

content/warnings: gn!reader, angst?, fluff?, light hurt/comfort

notes: sorry if your name is victoria. i’m sure you’re lovely

word count: 1.6k

masterlist d. w. masterlist

you, dean, and sam were currently up north in new england working on a case. just the morbid usual: a couple of strange deaths, all the doors were locked, et cetera, et cetera. the most recent victim was a man named evan, who was almost decapitated.

halfway through interrogating the most recent victim’s friends and family, the victim’s sister decided that she would tag along. she had caught on to what the three of you were actually investigating and she wanted in.

her name was victoria, but insisted that she be called vic. a feisty thing, she was. ‘vic’ had long red hair, and did not care for any sort of personal space. at least, with dean she didn’t. when you introduced yourselves to her, it was explicitly expressed that you were dean’s partner. she didn’t care to respect that in the slightest.

at first, she was seemingly respectful. this façade didn’t last long. soon she was fruitlessly flirting with dean and completely ignoring both you and sam.

it didn’t help that perhaps in another circumstance she might’ve been dean’s type. she was tall and slender with a playful attitude. you knew from the beginning that you were in for a long one.

vic’s brother had an uncle that he was close with. she had willingly given his address, and that’s where the four of you were headed.

you grumbled in annoyance. vic had not let dean have any space, no matter how hard he tried to walk in tandem with you. eventually you had just given up and just walked beside sam.

it was evident that you were pissed, sam immediately sensed how livid you were. “you alright?”

“just peachy!” you replied, sarcasm flooding your tone. as you said this, dean turned and slowed so that he could walk with you and sam. you tried to distract yourself by examining the neighborhood, but your train of thought was cut off by dean speaking in a confrontational tone.

“victoria, you can leave. we’ve got this. we’re professionals.” dean gave her a deadpan look and when she didn’t move, he followed with a tautly-stretched smile. she still didn’t move.

“don’t be silly, d. i’m coming. evan was my brother.” dean muttered a couple profanities under his breath.

the look of irritation very present on his face. this didn’t last long as you had reached your destination.

vic did the honors of knocking on her uncle’s door. it took the man a moment to answer, and when he did he was clearly in a state of distress. it makes sense when one of your close relatives meets an untimely, violent end.

however, what vic did next shocked you to your core. when her uncle answered the door, she reached behind her and pulled dean to her side. then she spoke in a loud, clear tone, “this is my boyfriend, dean, and his friends. we just wanted to talk about evan, see how you’re holding up. is that alright?”

the man nodded and opened the door, but when you and sam were about to walk in she shut it in your faces. she wiggled her fingers at you in a wave. your blood was boiling. what did she think she was doing? did she honestly think that by forcing herself on dean would make him want her?

you turned and sat abruptly on the porch stairs. sam followed you. “she’s a little, uh, spirited, isn’t she?” sam turned to look at you. your brows were furrowed and illustrated your expression with the disdain you were feeling.

“yep.” you responded curtly. you were seeing red. sam tapped his foot against the concrete in impatience. “i don’t like her.”

“she’s extremely pushy.” sam sighed. the both of you sat in silence for about half an hour before dean and vic finally emerged.

dean reached down and helped you up off of the stairs. he then spoke broadly to sam and you. “well, the guy knows nothing more than what we knew. evan was a stand up kid who was suddenly found dead with defensive wounds, but no windows were broken or doors unlocked in his apartment. apparently he visited his uncle the night before it happened and was acting a little frantic.”

vic hung off of dean’s arm. “see, d, i told you. that old guy doesn’t know anything.

dean shook her off and gave her a curt smile. “don’t call me d.”

sam decided it was a good idea to look over evan’s apartment again. you had decided to look around the kitchen, where the body was found the morning after.

damn, evan’s apartment was cold. you wondered if that was the default setting or a symptom of something else. it was eerily quiet, too; quiet enough that your ears rung. you squatted to get a better look at the place where the body was found, and you saw some blood that had crusted over.

while you were examining the baseboards and the blood that had clearly been missed by the clean-up team, you heard someone approaching you from behind. “some blood was missed by clean-up. that’s gross, don’t you-“

you turned, fully expecting it to be one of the boys from the weight of the footsteps, but coming face-to-face with the spirit that had evidently killed evan. “dean! sam!” you shouted. you tried to get to your feet, but you weren’t fast enough. the spirit got close enough to you to knock you back.

unfortunately, neither party arrived before the spirit lunged at you and slashed your upper arm. the pain was sharp and quick, and you soon felt warm blood trickle out of the wound. the ghost vanished soon after.

you were able to find some bandages in the back of the impala and cover it up with a long sleeved button down of dean’s. you figured you’d worry about caring for it properly later once everything was over. hopefully, no one had seen how much you were bleeding and you could get away with pretending you were fine.

later that night, after some more snooping online (mostly on sam’s part), you could find the grave that held the corpse you were looking for.

dean had dug up the grave of said ghost. he salted it and burned it, and that was the end of it. you were quite surprised; in the past the burning hadn’t been too successful. if you were being honest, your rage blacked out most of the events that happened for the rest of the night.

the dirt crunched under your feet as you walked back to the impala. vic trailed after dean; your shoulders tensed. the scene mirrored a mother duck and her ducklings. luckily, you made it to the passenger seat before someone else could. you slammed the door and your arm stung with pain again. you hoped that no one had seen you flinch.

the ride back to vic’s place was awkward, to say the least. soft rock filled the silence, and that calmed you slightly.

the impala jerked to a stop in front of vic’s house. “do i really have to go, d?” she poured. how pathetic of her.

dean turned and answered her instantaneously. “yes, and don’t call me d.”

her pitiful pout worsened, “are you sure? we could have some fun?”

“yes. get out of my car.” when she didn’t, he followed up. “now, please.” finally she listened to what dean was saying and left. dean didn’t even wait to see her to get inside, he just sped off to the motel you were staying that night.

the motel bed was calling you. at arrival you practically jumped out of the car and into the room. it was just a typical run-down motel, but you couldn’t wait until you drove out of town and forget today ever happened.

“woah there tiger. wait up for the rest of us,” dean jogged to meet you. “let’s take care of your gash now, alright?”

you closed your eyes and sighed. suddenly you were extremely aware of dean. you were very much emotionally exhausted. “it’s not that bad. the bandage will hold up just fine.” at this, dean grabbed your hands.

“please? just let me take care of you.” the shines in his eyes was convincing enough.

that’s how you found yourself in the dirty bathroom, sitting on the toilet with dean sealing your wound with stitches. “you’re not mad at me, right?”

you were stumped that this notion. “no? why would i be?” you blinked in poorly veiled shock.

he spoke plainly, “because victoria was falling all over me all day today.”

you looked astray to the confusing red shower curtain. “that’s not your fault though. it’s not your fault that she can’t respect your boundaries.”

“i just care about what you think, you know,” he stated, not looking away from binding your arm with more gauze.

hesitating, you thought both about what to respond with and how you actually felt about the whole situation. you thought it was clear that you weren’t mad at dean. you were just mad at how vic couldn’t stand that one man couldn’t want her. well, obviously it hadn’t been. how long had dean thought you were upset with him? did he-

dean broke the silence. “i lost you there for a second.”

you shook off your thoughts. “oh, sorry. i don’t blame you for her actions at all. you stated what you wanted several times. kind of crazy that she fully ignored us telling her we’re together,” you expressed with a lopsided smile.

he looked up into your eyes, “so we’re good?” his green eyes showed the slight apprehension he still carried.

you lightly tugged your arm out of his hold and held his face in your hands. “of course we are, d,” kissing his forehead afterward.

“i love it when you call me that,” he smiled.

“you missed,” he said.

“huh?”

“you missed.” he guided your face down toward his and greeted your lips with his. you kissed him in a way that you hoped affirmed him that you were both okay. that today hadn’t changed how you felt about him in the slightest. you felt him grin against your kiss. you pulled away and smiled at him.

suddenly you were aware of the toilet seat beginning to be uncomfortable as you sat, so you stood. dean followed.

“it’s cold out. let’s go warm up,” he said impishly. while flirtatious, you were aware he meant just to sleep.

“yeah, that sounds great,”

[phant0mth1ef]

being a support course student wasn’t easy, it was consistent work mixed in with your normal academic studies, but boy did it have some perks.

never in your life did you think you would see aspiring heroes begging for you and hatsume to design their support items, stating that you two were the best of the best and it’d be an honor to have their gear made by you.

never in your life did you think bakugou katsuki himself, mister big and bad all throughout his early years, would be standing in front of you asking if you could tweak his gauntlets so that they could hold more and weigh less.

you took the piece of metal in your hands, examining it as vermillion eyes watched your every move, strategizing, calculating, and envisioning.

“well?! don’t just stand and stare! tell me if you can do something about it!” his gruff voice pierced your eardrums as you looked over at him, the bags under your eyes becoming evident as he met your gaze.

“no.” you responded, an annoyed look on your face as you shoved his hunk of junk back into his chest, causing him to slightly stumble as he watched you.

“whaddaya mean no?! aren’t you supposed to be the best support course extra?” his voice was so prominent. it was like bass booming through the speakers when he spoke to you.

“well i mean i can do it. i just would rather not do it, at least not for someone like you.” you spoke calmly as you went to go pick up some of kaminari’s gear, messing with it as you swore you saw the man start to rage.

“well why not?!” he demanded, holding his gear as he sucked his teeth.

“i just don’t want to. i don’t tolerate calling people extras, nor do i tolerate this type of behavior towards me, especially from someone who’s in need of something only i or hatsume can pull off, and i heard she’s already turned you away.”

the soft click of you snapping something in kaminari’s pointer gear back into place was echoing throughout the room, which was silent except for hatsume walking around and tinkering with her, as she calls them, “babies.”

“i don’t take no for an answer.” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“and i don’t take disrespect, so i guess you’ll just have to find someone else. you can talk to me again when you’re ready to be nice, and i’ll consider tweaking your gear for you. as for your current gauntlets, just leave them here. they’re scrap metal at this point.” you spoke with a sense of authority in your voice, like you didn’t even care who he was because it simply didn’t matter to you.

after all you were currently contracted with mirko’s agency, providing support gear for her and her sidekicks, that was also partially where you got your spunk from.

“tch.” and with a loud clank! his gauntlets hit the floor as the boy turned around on his heels, leaving with a tone that was evident in the way he walked.

that same night as you sat at your desk doing your schoolwork, your phone was sitting right by you.

bzz bzz! bzz bzz!

you picked it up, staring at the notifications with a smile on your face.

[instagram: dyna_might]

I guess I’m sorry about the way I talked to you earlier, I apologize.

your set your phone down as it dinged once again.

[instagram: dyna_might]

And I’d love for you to design my support gear.

safe to say that once bakugou opened his dorm room door the next day, a pair of basically weightless and and more compact gauntlets was sitting down, waiting to be used as he chuckled.

[yezznn]

Spending his break together — a Soobin drabble<3

pairings: Soobin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, comfort.

warnings: none! But pls let txt rest (I’m talking to you, HYBE employee reading fanfics for fan service purposes)

check out my masterlist | remember this is fictional!

You could see it in his eyes during video calls—the toll of constant comebacks and rehearsals. His dedication was unwavering, but his health was starting to suffer. His fans were literally begging on every social media for the company to give his group a break, but Soobin still came on camera with his beautiful dimpled smile and tried to reassure everyone that they were just fine. It didn’t take long to become more evident, though, to the point it was starting to worry you, too. Being an idol’s partner wasn’t fun all the time, you’d spent more time without him than with him, and you feared that asking him to take it easy would come out as selfishness.

But when his company finally granted him a long-term break, it was like a breath of fresh air. You received his call while at work, and the relief in his voice was palpable. "Guess who's coming home for Christmas?" he said, and your heart leaped with joy.

The moment you saw him at the airport, a mix of emotions washed over you. He looked tired but happy, and the tight hug you share says more than words ever could. "I've missed you so much," he whispered into your hair, and even with his enormous height he looked like a vulnerable child, just glad to be back.

With Soobin home, your days are filled with cozy nights in. You’d cook his favorite meals, catching up on all the moments you missed. He helps you decorate the Christmas tree, laughing as he tries to untangle the fairy lights. You make it a point to take care of him, ensuring he gets plenty of rest. You have lazy mornings with breakfast in bed, and some late night walks to play in the snow— even when the cold becomes unbearable.

Knowing how much Soobin values quality time, you plan a day of relaxation. You both decide to stay in the day of his birthday, lounging in comfortable clothes and catching up on all the shows and movies he's missed during his busy schedule.

Throughout the day, you surprise him with little gifts. A cozy sweater, a book he's been wanting to read, and a new pair of headphones. Each gift is wrapped with love, and his eyes light up with every unwrapping. "You always know exactly what I need," he says, giving you a warm hug. In the afternoon, you suggest baking a cake together. Soobin's laughter fills the kitchen as you both fumble with the ingredients, making a mess but enjoying every moment.

As the day turned into night, you led Soobin to a surprise party you'd secretly arranged with his friends and family. The moment he steps into the backyard, he's greeted with a chorus of "Happy Birthday!" And you could swear you’ve never seen him happier before. Back at home, as you both got ready for bed, Soobin wrapped his arms around you and murmured, "This has been the best birthday ever. Thank you for everything."

As the year comes to an end, you spend New Year's Eve together, reflecting on the past year and all you've been through. At midnight, he pulls you close, kissing you softly and promising that the coming year will be even better.

This time together strengthens your bond like never before. Soobin appreciates your support, and you cherish every moment spent with him. As his break comes to an end, you both know that no matter how busy life gets, your love is the constant that keeps you both going.

a/n: in honor of Soobin’s update 💗 I miss him so so so much but I’m so happy to know he’s resting and sharing with his family. I’m just hoping they’ll get the rest they deserve and come back healthier and more energized! This was really rushed so I’m sorry if it’s kind of bad, just felt like writing a something for Soob.

[callsign-rogueone]

the last six years - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader Only one person has remained by Brennan’s side for the last six years, through the good and the bad. [requested] wc: 3.9k 🏷: SPOILERS FOR FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME. fatal injury, blood, and multiple character deaths. basically every bad thing that has ever happened to Brennan will be in this series. I took some major creative liberties with this one and made a bunch of stuff up regarding Tyrrish culture, but we’re just gonna breeze right past that. more to come, because Brennan is just so husband material… mans had me giggling and kicking my feet every time he spoke.

“Tairn! We need Naolin!” You scream, praying that he is alive to hear you. “Bren, please, stay with me.”

His chest rises and falls slowly; he's still breathing. Breathing is good. “Y’need to get out of here.”

“No. I’m not leaving you. Eyes open, Bren, please,” you beg, pressing your hands deeper into the wound. “Tairn!”

“Thirty seconds out!” He yells back.

There’s not much you can do. To remove the arrow is a death sentence when you don’t have any medical supplies. It’s the only thing keeping the blood in his body, but even then it’s doing a shitty job; the warm crimson continues spilling out through your fingers, seemingly endless. 

“S’ gonna be okay, sweetheart,” Brennan soothes, feeling your panic.

“Bren, you need to stay awake. You can’t die. I can’t keep going without you.” Tears are pouring freely down your cheeks, dripping down onto the dark fabric of his flight jacket.

“You’re bleeding,” he mumbles, ignoring your pleas. He’s slipping away, fast, falling into the slow confusion that comes with a shortage of blood to the brain. “Let me mend you.”

“I’ll worry about myself later. Right now we need to keep you alive.” 

Heavy bootsteps enter the room. “Holy shit,” Naolin breathes, at your side in an instant. He digs in his bag, producing sutures and gauze.

If you act quickly, and if by some miracle the arrowhead hasn’t pierced Brennan’s heart, you can keep him stable long enough to find another mender. You break the shaft of the arrow, Brennan whimpering in pain as it shifts within his chest. 

“I know, my love, I’m so sorry,” you soothe, wiping your palms on your pant legs and moving to cradle his head in your lap as Naolin takes over. You keep whispering reassurances to him, terrified that if you stop, it’ll sever the last thread holding him in this world. “You’re doing so good, Bren. Almost done, I promise.”

Naolin gives you a look that tells you no, he’s not almost done. 

Brennan’s grip on your hand loosens, and you scramble to grab his wrist, bloodied fingers trying to find a pulse -- to no avail. “No,” you cry, tears pouring down your cheeks, “Bren, please wake up, please.”

The slow thump beneath your fingertips stops. Brennan’s heart is no longer beating.

You sob, a desperate sound that splits the air of the ballroom, and Naolin makes his decision, grasping Brennan’s hand and yours. “The two of you need each other.” 

“Nao, you can’t-” you gasp at the rush of energy that rips through you, the pain in your broken ribs diminishing instantly. You feel like you’ve been given a shot of pure adrenaline.

Naolin stops breathing just as Brennan starts again, collapsing to the marble floor, and your lips part in shock.

“He is gone,” Tairn confirms, fighting to keep his voice even. “May your gods honor his sacrifice and reward him in the next life.”

“I’m so sorry.”

His eyes are closed. That comforts you in some tiny way, that he looks whole, uninjured, like he could just be sleeping, but you know that isn’t the case.

Brennan’s breaths are even, pulse steady. The wound looks days old now, the fresh blood coating the skin the only evidence that he had nearly died today. He’ll pull through, as long as you can get out of here.

You say a prayer to Malek on your friend’s behalf, casting one last glance at his unmoving body, and gather Brennan into your arms -- he’s still breathing, but limp, exhausted. You can carry him out of here, but where will you go?

A man bearing a crossbolt steps into the ballroom.

You make no movement toward your weapon, still holding Brennan’s body to your chest. “We surrender,” you rasp, praying he will take pity on a pair of bloodsoaked young lovers and their fallen comrade. 

He steps closer, not responding. 

The words escape you before you can think. The old language feels foreign on your tongue, misshapen from years of disuse. “I am a daughter of the house Lindell, and a citizen of Tyrrendor. I have sworn an oath to-”

“I know who you are, Lady,” he says. “Come with me.”

He stops in front of an abandoned farmhouse, painted gold in the sunset. “Bathe, sleep. I’ll be back when I can.”

You remain by Brennan’s side. You stitch up his wounds, wash the dried blood from his skin, count his heartbeats as he continues to sleep. 

Night comes, bringing freezing wind through the cracked windows, and you climb into the bed beside him, pulling the few blankets you’d found over the pair of you. He curls into your side, seeking warmth — his skin is still cold, but not as icy as it had been when you limped him over here.

When you wake the next morning, the man has not yet returned.

“Ban?” You ask quietly. You haven’t heard from the dragon since you’d dismounted over a day ago, but she must still live, as you do.

“Nearby, with Marbh,” she reassures. “Tairn has returned to Basgiath to be with his mate. It will take years for him to recover from this loss, but he will live on.”

You continue to stroke Brennan’s hair, taking solace in the steadiness of his breathing.

“Your devotion to the mender is the strongest I have seen from any human,” she says quietly. 

“He has become the air I breathe. It was unbearable when he…” you don’t even want to think the words. “I don’t know what I would have done, had Naolin not intervened.”

Brennan stirs, stretching in the cute way you’ve seen him do so many times after waking up, scrunching his face at the bright morning light streaming into the room. He takes you in, thanking the gods that the only injury you bear is a yellowing bruise on your cheek. A gentle hand cradles your face, and it vanishes.

“Naolin?” He asks quietly, and something tells you he already knows deep down.

You shake your head, your eyes brimming with tears. “He gave his life to save you.” 

He looses a shuddering breath, and you gather him into your arms, crying together.

You attempt to mentally prepare yourself to enter the assembly room, adjusting your posture -- shoulders back, chin up, eyes forward. 

“Not a word,” you warn Brennan quietly. “Keep your shields up, like I taught you.”

“I didn’t know we were taking prisoners,” a lanky teenage boy calls, eyeing you from his perch on the edge of a table. In the years you’ve been away, he’s grown into his father’s dark features, and the lazy confidence that can only come with a noble title. “I was wondering when you’d be back from playing soldier. Have they brought you here to negotiate?”

“Lovely to see you again too, Xaden,” you say dryly, addressing the boy by name, and Brennan’s gaze whips toward you in shock. “No, I am not here to negotiate. We are here to surrender, and if you will have us, we will take your side in this fight to free Tyrrendor from those who have oppressed her for centuries.”

“They would be an asset to us, should this prove to not be a setup,” one of the elders says, keeping his hand on the hilt of his longsword.

“She has proved her allegiance to Tyrrendor time and time again,” Xaden defends coldly, dismissing the man who looks old enough to be his grandfather. “It is the general's son that I’m more concerned with.”

You look him directly in the eye as you speak, raising your chin. “Sorrengail is a strong rider and skilled mender, but above all, he is a good man. I could not have chosen anyone better to share the crown with when the day comes.”

Brennan looks at you like he has no idea who you are, trying to discern if this is a dream.

Xaden finds this amusing. “She really didn’t tell you? Always so secretive, that one. Your girlfriend is heir apparent to the Duchy of Lindell, as I am to Aretia, where you stand.”

He looks to the elders, who all nod in affirmation, deeming your appraisal of Brennan satisfactory. “It’s good to have you back, Lady. Things were getting boring without you.”

You lower your head to him in thanks, Brennan quickly copying you.

You tug Brennan into the hall after you’re dismissed.

“Did you really mean that?” He asks, head still spinning.

“Every word,” you reply. “From the moment you extended that hand to me in our first year at Basgiath, I knew you were good to your core, Brennan Sorrengail. It would be an honor to share my duty with you.” 

“Your mate needs you,” Marbh says, making a rare appearance.

Your heart drops. You sprint down the valley trail back to the house, attempting to ascertain what had happened, but you aren’t given a response. Marbh has always been vague.

You find Brennan tucked into a corner of your shared room, back pressed to the wall. He’s clutching a piece of parchment that you recognize to be a Basgiath death roll. He extends it to you wordlessly, and your eyes race down the list, searching for Mira, his mother, another of your friends…

The final name on the list, below the rider’s quadrant cadets, almost as an afterthought… Major William Sorrengail. His father.

“Oh, Bren,” you breathe, gathering him into your arms, “I’m so sorry.”

His entire body shakes with a sob, and it takes everything in you to not cry as well, but you remain strong, needing to be there for him. “I knew I’d never see him again,” he says in a cracked whisper, “but now…” But now it’s real.

You’d never met the man, and now you never will, but you know what a profound impact Brennan’s father had on his life, imparting so many of the qualities that you admire about Brennan; his dedication to his studies, his respect for the scribes that so many others dismiss or overlook, his unwavering compassion…

You offer a silent prayer to Malek on his behalf, asking that He show the scribe the same kindness that he had shown others in life.

“I don’t know why, or how,” Brennan rasps, “I don’t know who was there with him in the end, if Mira and Violet got to say goodbye, if my mother…” he can’t finish the sentence, words cut with shaking breaths. He loses the strength to hold himself up, collapsing into your embrace. “I should be there,” he sniffles, “I should have been there.”

“I know how much you love him. He knew too, I’m sure he did. They all do.” You hold him tighter, stroking his hair. “The girls are strong. They will mourn, but they will get through it together.”

He’s run out of tears, leaving him with a headache and a hollow feeling in his chest. He eventually relaxes, not saying a word as you smooth down the soft waves of his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He’s fallen asleep. You just hope his dreams will be kind to him.

“Enough,” you command, and all heads turn toward you. “I will not have you disrespect Riorson nor his partner in his own home. Have you forgotten what he has done for our young?”

Ulices stiffens. “My apologies, Lady.” He says the title with an ounce of venom, but yields, returning to his seat.

Violet continues to study you. You’re dressed simply, head to toe rider’s black mixed with traditional Tyrrish leather armor and intricate braids that she has only seen drawn in history books, but it’s obvious in your posture that you’re nobility - you do not dip your head below the horizon even for a moment, and you speak with the confidence that others will listen.

“We have better things to do than argue about what should have happened. There is no turning back time,” you say calmly. “I agree that we have been given a legion of students rather than trained warriors, but it has become our job to train them.”

Brennan speaks next. He’s been silent since the meeting started. “What professors have joined us should resume modified versions of their courses, and we will fill in the gaps. Match up those with similar signets for mentorship. Emeterrio can continue to lead combat training, and Devera Battle Brief. Kaori has not joined us, but I think there is an obvious replacement.”

You’re saddened by the news, but you smile softly at his praise. 

Violet realizes that the scribbled amendments in the dragons section of Brennan’s book weren’t Mira’s, but yours. You’ve been close for years, then. You must have brought him here with you when you deserted. Part of her wonders if you’d attended Basgiath because you wanted to, or as a spy.

“Do not question the royal one’s integrity,” Tairn warns her, but does not elaborate further.

“The riot has decided that everyone here can be trusted,” you state. “And if anyone turns out not to be, we will do what we have to do, without hesitation, for the good of the movement.”

There’s sounds of agreement from the other six, and then the meeting is over.

“Hey,” he says softly, leaning against the doorframe, clutching a bloodied rag to his face.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Mira’s fist happened,” he explains, lifting it, and you wince at the sight of his nose, the bridge split and bruising. “I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

Your heart twists. Brennan hasn’t been able to see his sisters for nearly a decade, spending the last six years in hiding and the two before that stationed across the continent with hardly enough leave to travel back and forth to Basgiath. For Mira to have punched him straight in the face instead of the tearful hug he’d dreamed of… it must have crushed him.

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, careful not to bump his nose. “I’ll talk to her,” you say softly. “Go see the healers.”

You’ve only met the middle Sorrengail in passing, nearly ten years ago now, but she’s exactly as Brennan had described her; a younger version of their mother, and just as strong-willed. Evidently, she remembers you, scowling and crossing her arms at the sight of you, but still standing at attention — there’s no missing the Major’s insignia on your chest. Violet stands as well, but doesn’t look as sour as her sister. 

You wave a hand. “At ease. I am not here to issue orders, rather to talk about your brother.”

Mira prickles, Violet looking concerned.

You choose your words carefully. “I do not expect either of you to forgive him overnight, nor for you to forgive me for my complacency in this matter. All I ask is that you show him some compassion. It has been hard for him too, being apart from his family. When your father-”

“That is not a sentence you should finish,” Mira interrupts.

“Mira,” Violet scolds softly, “be nice.”

“No,” she snaps, “I don’t think you understand. We mourned him. We called him a hero, thought he died honorably in battle when he really just deserted and changed his name.”

“He did die,” you say, and the eyes of both women flit back toward you. You look over your shoulder. “He bled out on the floor of that ballroom, and his heart stopped. Our friend siphoned away his life to save him.”

“Tairn’s previous rider,” Violet says in a whisper, as if the dragon will not hear her that way.

“Yes. Naolin.” You say his name with a heavy voice. No wonder Tairn won’t speak to her of the one who came before. That explains the gruff dragon’s defense of you, too.

Mira is silent, likely feeling guilt over her outburst as she realizes her brother still lives in the house he’d been killed in, with the son of the man who had ended his life.

“The elders gave him the name Aisereigh — meaning resurrected — as a layer of protection from those who hold vendettas against your mother. It hurt him to take it, and to not be able to give me the Sorrengail name, but it was necessary for his survival.”

Violet’s eyes land on the band circling your ring finger, a smooth strip of silver carved with Tyrrish runes. Brennan had worn a matching one when she’d seen him the day after War Games, but she hadn’t thought anything of it until now. “You’re married.”

You nod. “Three years ago, right on that bluff at the top of the valley, on a gorgeous summer day. Both of us wish those he loves most could have been there.” 

“Thank you,” Violet says quietly, “for staying with him through it all.”

“I have been by his side since our first year at Basgiath, and I will remain there as long as we shall live, as I have vowed to,” you reply with the same blunt conviction that she’s used to from Xaden — that must be a Tyrrish thing. “Now please excuse me. I have a class to teach in a few minutes.”

Mira lowers her head to you in a gesture of respect. “I’m sorry,” she says, but she does not say what for.

You give her a soft smile in return, heading back into the house.

“Major Aisereigh will be taking over your dragonkind course, as Professor Kaori did not elect to join us here,” Professor Devera announces.

It’s strange to be standing on the dais as an equal with the woman who’d had a hand in kidnapping you from Brennan’s bed to torture you eight years ago, but nearly everything about your life since that night has been strange.

“I don’t know precisely what Kaori did and did not cover thus far in the term, but given that every person in this room has managed to bond a dragon, you are clearly proficient, and I will treat you as such,” you begin. “Dragons are independent, often to a fault, but do not forget that your health depends on theirs. As riders, you must learn how to care for them properly. That’s what we will be focusing on for the remainder of the term, along with flight mechanics and keeping your seat under stress.”

You glance at Brennan, who is sitting incognito in the back row, broken nose now mended, and he nods, an easy smile on his face. You’re doing great.

The lesson passes easily, your students much more engaged than you remember your peers having been in Professor Kaori’s class. 

“I will be needing volunteers to help with the maintenance of the riot while they’re grounded.”

At least thirty hands shoot straight up — half the class.

The trek up the valley wall is never easy, but you make winded conversation with several of the volunteers, mainly nervous first-years who confide that they need the extra practice.

You stop at the top of the trail, cupping a hand to your mouth and calling out a few short notes, and Banrion is at your side in seconds, shaking the ground with her landing. At least a dozen others land nearby, sitting upright in waiting. 

“You’ve brought children,” she appraises, eyeing them with distaste.

“Cadets,” you correct, “that you will be helping me teach. So be nice.”

She chuffs softly. “Fine.”

“I have chosen some more agreeable members of the riot to aid me today, to ease you into their care, but let me make this clear,” you say to the class, who have retreated to give you and Ban a healthy distance. “the majority still find it deeply offensive to be addressed by a human that is not their rider. Unless your bonded has joined us today, please refrain from speaking to any directly.”

You wait for nods of affirmation. “Banrion and I will demonstrate pre-flight checks once, and then you will split into groups of two or three to do the same with the remainder here.”

Once you get everyone settled, you find Brennan — he’d tagged along quietly, not wanting to part ways after the morning’s chaos.

“Well done, Professor,” he says, smiling. “You just might make this a day job.”

You laugh. “Is this everything twenty-year-old Bren thought it would be?”

“It is,” he says quietly. “And more.”

You gaze out at the field of cadets. “Marked and unmarked, living in harmony.”

Brennan squeezes your hand in acknowledgment, remembering how scared you had been when the first marked ones left for Basgiath, and each year since. It had hurt you deeply when not all of them returned. 

Tairn stalks up to you, dipping his head in greeting. “Good to see you again, royal one.”

You smile. “Glad you’re still around, big guy. You have made an excellent choice in Violet. How is the golden one?”

“Still dreamless,” he answers, not deigning to reply to your compliment. 

You worry your lip between your teeth, concerned. 

He casts a glance around at the young cadets in the vale, who are taking their tasks very seriously. “You remain as revered a leader as you were at Basgiath.”

You’re actually touched, but you won’t dare mention that to Tairn.

“It is not an easy feat to raise young,” a green scorpiontail says in agreement, looking down fondly at the first-years that are inspecting her claws for cracks, “but the two of you are doing a fine job.”

You smile. “And how are your young?”

“Safe,” she answers. “You may come see them after dark.”

“It would be an honor.”

“Professor?” A cadet calls from across the field, sounding mildly concerned.

You pull apart from Brennan reluctantly. “Duty calls. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Kiss for your thoughts?” you ask playfully, seeing the weary look on his face. It’s been a long day for him, with multiple arguments among the assembly and all the emotions of reuniting with Mira.

“I have both of my sisters back,” he breathes, still in disbelief. “I thought I’d never see them again.”

You lay a hand on his back, resting your head on his shoulder. “I spoke with them before class. Mira was particularly upset, but she softened when I told her what really happened.”

He’s quiet. “She has every right to hate me for what I did. She should despise me for the rest of my life.”

“But she doesn’t,” you remind him gently. “She holds anger, but she doesn’t hate you. You’re her brother, and she knows you love her. You wrote her an entire textbook on how to survive the rider’s quadrant. If that isn’t testament enough, I don't know what is.”

He shakes his head, smiling softly. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

You grin, moving to climb into his lap. “Because I know you, and I know exactly what goes on in that beautiful brain of yours.”

“Yeah?” he asks, nose brushing against yours, a ringed hand settling on your waist. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Hmm. Probably about how long of a day it’s been, and how you’d like to unwind after all of it?”

“You’re absolutely right,” he says. “I’ll take that kiss now.”

You lean forward, connecting your lips to his, and the rest of the world falls silent, melting away until all that’s left is you, your husband, and the love you share, love that has endured death itself.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Imposter: Neige LeBlanche

He’s the shining crewmate in cyan

With a reputation of snow

He’s innocent in any situation 

There's always an out 

Even if he’s found with blood splashed on his suit

He’s nothing but an unfortunate witness traumatized beyond belief

So traumatized he can’t recall who it was

Until its most convenient

“I-i’m so sorry everyone…I witness something so horrible the least I should do is be able to help…I-i’ll try my best for everyone.”

So it's best if he travels with you

The crewmate so determined to find the imposter

Or even the unconvinced crewmate who keeps giving him the side-eye

So why don’t you pair up with him?

Despite his flawless alibi, overwhelming lack of evidence, and testimony from trusted crewmates your friends

Somehow he can’t get you close enough

wHy ARe yOu BeINg sO dIfFiCUlt!?

At this rate, he’ll the imposter have to kill the whole crew before you give him anything but a passing gaze glare

But he’s a good crewmate liar

You’ll have no choice but to believe him when they eject the ‘real’ imposter:

You stared through the impact glass at the vastness of the space and the decreasing figure of the purple suit. A haze of finality and unreaching, endlessness ebbing your resolve, you tightened your fists; digging your nails into your palms. It hardly did much to distract you from the feeling in your heart but you’d take what you could.

“(Y/n), Rook set a course back to Innersloth…we’re going home.”

You ignored him, not even bothering to look at his worried reflection behind you, keeping your eyes on the spot you last found the supposed imposter’s floating body. The news brought nothing but guilt and rage. At who? You, the remaining crewmates, the dead, Neige? Even with the evidence pointing to your dearest friend and the innocence proclaimed to him you couldn’t ignore the feeling in your gut. 

The same one that told you to stay with your friend, even when he insisted you two split up for just a second. The same push that had you doubting the one in cyan from the very beginning. Even with his innocence being proven every time without fail, you couldn’t disregard the compass that held tried and true for this whole nightmare.

“(Y/n), maybe you should join me in the cafeteria! I recently made a pie for everyone to enjoy!”

“...Not everyone.”

Neige stiffened before letting his eyes and lips curve into a smile as he shed a tear. 

“You’re right *sniff* Not for everyone…but maybe in their honor?”

You resisted the urge to sneer at him. That voice. That face. Those tears. He was doing it again! Whether it was acting or mimicry it didn’t sit right with you; it never did. And even now in the wake of the majority of your crew’s death, it didn’t incur the empathy he so often elicited from onlookers. In your deepest of hearts you rationalized that was why he seemed so insistent on trying his tactics on you. 

“You can enjoy it without me…who’s to say the imposter really is off the ship anyway?”

At those words he made a face, puckering his lips and folding his hands to protest. You spoke, glaring at the despicable reflection of yourself in the window.

“ We’ve been wrong before. What’s to say we aren’t again?”

“B-but nothing has been broken! And we’ve split up many a time before and none of us have died! Don’t you think that means we finally got rid of the—”

“Imposter? Please, it make more sense to stay hidden now since they want a free ride to headquarters.”

Tightly closing your eyes,  you turned narrowly missing the ungloved hand attempting to grab your shoulder. Making your way out of the bay you went for the door, flashing a look toward Neige who hadn’t turned around and was still facing the window. You turned your attention officially storming off, to do whatever it was you felt like doing without his presence. 

The imposter stood still, blankly smiling at the star system as he tightly clenched his fists. Of course, it’d be like you to suspect such a plan. Only you. But you were just so uptight how could you go bringing such negativity to the Innersloth head quarters after such a hefty loss? It’d be best for him everyone if you had a relaxant relaxed a little. Smiling a bit after such dark times was healthy. And only a good crewmate would keep their remaining teammates healthy, even if their suspicions were debilitating to that health.

Right?

[buckyalpine]

Soft King Bucky

Im in the middle of writing this smutty fic with arranged marriage and King Bucky and in the middle of writing it, i had another thot pop up which I have to get out right now like RIGHT NOW. 

Imagine soft king Bucky on your wedding night. Its the first time you’ve ever been intimate with someone and your anxiety has been high all night because you know the maids and servants will inspect the sheets the next morning, your honor and dignity thrown to the wind.

But that's the way things were. 

You gave yourself to him, letting him touch you and make love to you, sealing the both of you together as you had promised in your vows. He was careful and soft, cradling your body to his, focused on knowing you would be protected along his side, putting your pleasure before his.

You wanted to melt into him, feel every ounce of the love he was willing to give but anxiety held you from letting go, worried about the aftermath, worried about if he see you were pure. 

The euphoria that consumed you both pulsed through you as you sat up, your stomach dropping at the stark white sheets. You scrambled up slightly in hopes of something but the sheets were anything but tainted, pure and clean as if you’d never laid on his bed. 

“I’m-I’m sorry-” Tears well in your eyes, panic rising in your chest, fearing the anger he’d feel, seeing you as tainted and impure. 

“What for darling” He whispered, concerned etched on his face as you let out a choked sob, not knowing what you could possibly go, there was no evidence to show you were pure, untouched before him, to show that he was the only man to have you this way. You squeezed your legs shut, curling up in a ball, shame consuming you, already hearing the words the kingdom would brand you. “My princess?” 

“I didn’t-I don’t understand, the sheets- you’re the only one I’ve-” You trembled as he pulled you into his arms, shutting your eyes, unable to watch his disappointment when he saw who he married. Bucky’s brows furrowed, taking a moment to understand why you were so distressed, hiding your face away. He thought over your words, tension crawling up his back, his jaw clenching when he understood your fear. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, keeping you close to his chest, pressing a firm kiss to your head, his lips brushing your hair as he spoke.  

“I agreed to marry the intelligent and headstrong princess to rule by my side because her mind and beauty had my heart when I saw her. A fierce woman fit to be by me, when she rode her horse into my kingdom alone, demanding justice for her people without fear of what could happen to her” 

He reminisced the day you strode into his castle, head held high, not a drop of fear in your eyes with a dagger strapped to your hip, sword firm in your hand.

He fell in love before you opened your sweet lips to tell him right off. 

“Look at me princess” He cupped your cheeks making you meet his intense gaze, thumbing away the tears that streaked your cheeks, “I shared my bed with you because I wanted to love you in in every way possible, not as a test of your worth” 

You were still tensed, curling up into him further while he moved you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He pulled the covers over you, protecting you in a cocoon of warmth, tilting your chin to meet his eyes again. 

“You have my heart, that is as pure as it gets” tucking your hair away from your face, pulling you in for a kiss to your lips. “No one else gets to decide that, princess, no one” 

[hisui-dreamer]

hiii, congratulations on hitting 2k followers!! im super happy that you hit a really big milestone 💕💕 your writing is just so heartfelt and tender i love seeing ur posts float across my dash aa!!

for your bloom event, can i request jamil + sampaguita (apparently the origin of the flower's name loosely translates into "i promise you" and sometimes, garlands of sampaguita flowers are given to bestow honor on the recipient)

please tag me @/diodellet too, thank you! i hope you have a wonderful dayy💕💕

feverish promises

Pairing: Jamil Viper x gn!reader

Synopsis: jamil may be busy, but he'll always have time to care for you

Tags: sickfic, fever caretaking, reader is sick, jamil has responsibilities, food, fluff

Word count: 1.3k+

Notes: thank you for requesting @diodellet!! im so so honoured you like my writing 🥹💕💕 i hope you'll enjoy the fic!!

Masterlist

flower of choice: sampaguita

sampaguita gets its name from the Filipino words “sumpa” and “kita” which means “I promise you”

Jamil couldn't help but feel a sense of worry gnawing at the edges of his mind as he made his way towards Ramshackle. He had heard from Grim how his “henchman got super sick and is stuck in bed” and how your forehead was “so scorching hot it burned his paws”. Even though he already had his hands full with taking care of Kalim, Jamil just couldn't shake the desire to check on you.

So, there he was, a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and a carefully prepared meal in the other, standing outside your room.

Knocking gently on the door, Jamil waited for your response, his heart pounding in anticipation. "It's me, Jamil," he called out softly, straining to hear your muffled reply from behind the door.

The door creaked open, revealing the slightly messy room, Jamil couldn't help but notice the scattered belongings and the disarray that hinted at your weakened state. He supposed that you wouldn't have the energy to keep everything clean in your condition.

Your pale face flushed with fever as you looked up at him with bleary eyes, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "Jamil, is that really you? I’m not dreaming or anything, right?" you murmured, your voice hoarse and weak. "I'm so glad you're here."

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him as he approached your bedside. "Yes, it's me. I brought you something," Jamil said gently.

With a tender smile, he arranged the bouquet of flowers and the neatly prepared meal on the bedside table, ensuring they were within your reach. "I thought you might like these," he said softly, his eyes warm with affection as he observed your reaction.

"These are so pretty!" you exclaimed, sitting up slightly to appreciate the delicate blooms. "And they smell lovely too."

"They're sampaguita," he explained, his tone gentle. "I heard its scent can be relaxing."

"That's so sweet of you, Jamil! Thank you," you replied as you reached out to touch the delicate petals.

“So, how are you feeling?" Jamil asked, his concern evident in his voice.

You let out a tired sigh at the reminder of your condition. "Terrible," you admitted, your words slurring slightly. "My body aches, my head is pounding, and I can't seem to gather my thoughts... But having you here makes me feel a bit better."

He frowned, feeling a pang of guilt at your words. "I'm sorry you're feeling this way," Jamil said softly.

The food container at the bedside table caught your gaze. "What's this?"

Jamil found himself flustered by your question, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he awkwardly explained, "I made some chicken soup for you… It's what I always have when I'm feeling sick."

Unable to wait a moment longer, you lifted the lid of the container, the aroma of the steaming chicken soup wafted through the air. It carried hints of savory chicken broth, rich and aromatic, mingling with the subtle notes of fresh herbs and spices. Jamil watched anxiously as you took a hesitant sip, his heart pounding in anticipation of your reaction.

To his relief, a bright smile spread across your lips as you savored the soup. The broth was warm and comforting, infused with the earthy flavors of carrots, celery, and onions. Each mouthful was a burst of savory goodness, the chicken tender and succulent, its juices mingling with the fragrant broth to create a symphony of flavors on your palate. "This is delicious, Jamil!" you exclaimed, your eyes shining with appreciation. "It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had!"

He chuckled at your enthusiasm, a warmth blooming in his chest at your praise. "I'm glad you liked it."

You sighed contentedly, murmuring, “It’d be so nice if I could have your cooking for the rest of my life…”

Jamil couldn't help but be taken aback by your sudden proclamation. This was... unusual. You were always so calm and considerate towards him, never pushing his boundaries or reluctant to bother him. Is the fever messing with your brain-to-mouth filter? He couldn't deny he had always hoped you would be more vocal and honest with your feelings.

Unable to resist the urge to probe further, Jamil ventured cautiously, "You really mean that?"

You nodded earnestly, your eyes locking with his in a rare moment of unguarded honesty. "Absolutely! Your cooking is incredible, Jamil. I can't imagine ever getting tired of it."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jamil's lips as he absorbed your words. The idea of spending the rest of his life with you... It wasn’t bad at all.

"Thank you," he said softly, a hint of gratitude in his voice. "I'll make sure to cook for you whenever you need it."

As you slowly finished the last spoonfuls of the delicious soup, the conversation between you and Jamil flowed effortlessly. He shared snippets of his day, recounting the various tasks and events he had attended to. But as the evening wore on and the weariness of the day began to take its toll, you felt a heavy weight settling over your eyelids. Despite your efforts to stay awake, a yawn escaped your lips, betraying your exhaustion.

Jamil watched you with a gentle expression, his heart feeling strangely full at the sight of you finding comfort in his presence. He reached out a hand to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead, a tender gesture that sent a shiver of comfort down your spine.

Sensing that it was time to leave you to rest, Jamil started to rise from his chair. But before he could take a step, you reached out and caught his hand in yours, your grip surprisingly strong despite your weakened state.

"Don't go yet," you murmured, your voice soft and pleading. "Stay with me a little longer."

Turning back to you, he was met with the sight of your earnest gaze, filled with a vulnerability that tugged at his soul. Your eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, held a silent plea, begging for his presence to chase away the shadows that clouded your weary mind.

"I’ll be back as soon as you’re awake," he reassured you, trying to pry his sleeve free from your grasp. "You can text me anytime, right?"

But you wouldn't let go, your grip tightening as you pulled him closer. "Don't leave me," you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of fear and longing. "I'll miss you."

Jamil's heart clenched at your words, torn between the pressing weight of his unfinished tasks and the overwhelming desire to fulfill your heartfelt request. In that moment, you looked so utterly lovable, with your tousled hair framing your face and your lips forming a hopeful curve. He knew he couldn't stay by your side forever, but in this moment, all he wanted was to ease your suffering and soothe your fears.

You pulled his hand towards your cheek, nuzzling into it's warmth as if seeking solace. Your touch sent a shiver down his spine, stirring emotions he had long suppressed.  "You need to promise me," you said softly, your breath dancing across his skin. "Promise you'll never leave me."

Jamil hesitated, feeling the weight of your words pressing down on him. How could Jamil make such a promise when he was bound by his duty? And yet, as he looked into your eyes, filled with unspoken longing and hope, he knew he couldn't deny you anything.

"Alright. I promise," Jamil said finally, his voice barely a whisper.

A sense of resignation washed over him as he uttered those words, giving in to the depths of his feelings for you. And as you smiled up at him, a sense of peace settled over him, knowing deep down that he would do anything to keep you safe and by his side, for now and for all eternity.

"Forever and ever?"

He smiled. “Forever and ever.”

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[ghostchems]

I need something spooky, something dangerous.

Maybe Vampire Copia needs to feed and he forgets how to act normal? But in a *s e x y* way. 👀

I’m not sure this came out super sexy… let me know what you think tho haha.

“S-sister?” He calls for you, panic evident in his voice. His shoes click down the corridor until he’s caught up with you. “You’re not supposed to be wandering the corridors at night — hasn’t anyone told you that?”

“I’m so sorry, Cardinal. I didn’t know.” Now you’re panicked, unaware of the fact you were doing anything wrong and now a feeling of guilt washes over you. Cardinal Copia’s hand falls to your shoulder.

“Let me w-walk you back to your room, sorella. Make sure you get back safely.” The closer he is the more he seems off to you. He’s sweating. Make up is smudged and his collar is undone.

“Are you alright, Cardinal? You don’t look well.” Your voice is filled with concern unable to shake the state he's in. He forces a smile, but it does little to hide the unease in his eyes.

“You really should not be out here at this time of night.” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “Is your room close?” You nod slowly, lips pressed into a thin line and point down the corridor. Copia squeezes you again and urges you forward in that direction. You steal a glance at him every so often and watch as he fidgets and his eyes dart around the . The hairs on the back of your neck raise, your throat growing thick as you swallow hard. Something’s not right with him.

“Here’s my room.” You whisper, fingers already on the knob before even saying goodnight. A nervous smile tugs at your lips as your gaze falls back to him. His face is shrouded in darkness, only his white eye visible. You hear his breath quicken and feet shuffle.

“Oh, sister please will you let me in?” Copia’s gloved hands claw at your habit as he pushes in so close to you, backing you up against the door. “It is dangerous out here.” He squeezes your arms, fingers indenting into your skin hard enough to leave bruises.

“Of course, Cardinal. P-please, come inside.” You don’t even give it a second thought because of who he is. He’s your Cardinal and the main reason why the Ministry has become so successful over the last year. You would do anything for him and it’s an honor for you to even be in his presence. But there’s still a tightness in your chest that you can’t shake.

“Grazie, dolcezza.” He coos as you open the door for him to your dark quarters.

You step inside, eyes still adjusting to the dimness when a hand grabs you by the throat and slams you into the wall.

“I could *smell* you from down the hall.” Snarling into your ear, fingers digging into your neck. You try to scream but he squeezes the air from your lungs. “Shhh, shh, little thing. Let me have my taste.” Fighting back against him proves fruitless, his grip on you like a vice while his body cages you against the wall. Low growls and breathless pants fill your ear. “Satan forgive me, I could not help myself.”

Your body lurches, blinding pain shooting through you as Copia’s fangs sink into your neck. A scream rips from your throat but he shoves his fingers into your mouth causing you to gag. Your limbs grow numb, the fight in you dying down until it’s withered away completely. Your vision begins to blur. The last thing you remember is him pressing down on your tongue, giving a choked whimper as his tongue laps at the deep wound on your neck.

Copia cradles your limp body in his arms.

***

Your eyes slowly blink open to the sun streaming into your room. Blankets are tangled around sore limbs. You try to sit up but pain shoot downs your back to the tips of your fingers. Body flops back onto the bed in defeat, giving a deep sigh. Then you remember last night. Your throat grows dry, arm twitching almost to reach for your neck. But you stop yourself.

It must have been a dream. Right?

[jiminrings]

fail-safe finale sneak peek :-)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount:  14k

glimpse: you hear everything you've ever wanted, but you don't know if it's too late.

alternatively, yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.

sneak peek 01

“And he’s…?” she lets the question hang in the air, eyes trailing from Jungkook’s face, to his bicep, to how his forearm fits snugly against your back and his hand curls around your waist. Your mom visibly looks surprised, although you don’t know if it’s about the fact that you actually came back despite everything, or if it’s because her favorite actor is in her kitchen while she’s sweaty in an apron, or if it’s because said favorite actor leaves no space between the two of you.

“Jeon Jungkook, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely, a little jittery now that he’s face-to-face with her. He’s only heard of the woman she is from you and as much as he tried to picture her from memory, your stories don’t do her much justice. Jungkook’s always loved your kind eyes and your sweet smile, but he knows now where you’ve got it from; in fact, if he turns around right now right after shaking her hand and bowing profusely, you’re showing exactly those to him — that, along with a pair of gazes he can’t place.

Those gazes aren’t kind at all. One is confused and dumbfounded, and the other harbors nothing but hostility and anger.

“Sweetheart, I know you. Who doesn’t?” your mom’s at a loss for breath, mouth still agape as she keeps flickering her eyes between the two of you. She knows that you’re his manager, but what she doesn’t know is why the Jeon Jungkook is in her humble kitchen of all places. He has the most expressive and sincere eyes ever — he can’t possibly mistake your childhood home as a filming set and your waist as a hand rest.

You finally placate her thoughts when you speak, the loaded silence between the three of you (it’s buzzing with tension if you account for the other two) breaking. You actually giggle, your laughter taking the load off her shoulders because you’re happy; you don’t feel an ounce of guilt even if you’re lying to her face.

“We’re dating, mom,” you grin. “Jungkook’s my boyfriend.”

Jungkook smiles automatically, feeling your hand snake towards his own. His palm’s much bigger than yours yet it’s warmer than you’ve ever imagined, the envelope both of your hands make putting you at ease.

Your mom’s gasp bounces across the walls. Namjoon’s head that’s only been lowered the entire time you’ve been back suddenly whips to look at you and Jungkook. The fridge even lowers its hum to make way for the theatrics aimed at you, yet your eyes are fixed on your mom’s and Jungkook’s alone.

You came home for her and with him. You’re not here for anyone nor anything else because it’s merely a play for your survival, only this time, Jungkook’s hellbent on increasing your odds.

Yoongi freezes evidently, hand tightening around Haneul’s bottle as if it would do anything to release the red from his vision. He staggers silently, breathing suddenly ragged as he stares down at the offending steel cylinder. It’s small. Compact. If anything, he figures it would hurt if he were to throw it at anything. Anyone. Someone, even.

“Wow, that’s.. that’s amazing!” she embraces the both of you, making you and Jungkook share a gaze you only laugh through because he actually looks honored.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to let you know personally,” he apologizes meekly for a mistake that isn’t even one in the first place, the humility in his tone making your ears perk. It’s Jungkook once again with the apologies towards you that he shouldn’t be making at all, and yet, even in front of your family, he persists.

Jungkook apologizes even for the things he hasn’t done, not because he plans on doing them, but because a large part of him wants to be in the actual situation wherein those mistakes were merely possibilities.

“It’s no problem at all. You’re busy getting all these awards, I know how that’s like,” she jokes, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just glad someone’s taking care of my baby.”

“And I don’t plan on missing a single day, ma’am.”

“Stop that,” she chides, shaking her head eagerly. “You can call me mom.”

Yoongi lets the bottle clatter to the sink.

.

.

.

sneak peek 02

“Why is everything with you so hard?” Yoongi whispers, his tears stinging badly from the corner of his eyes to the point that he can only make out shapes. He’s unkempt and frantic as if his life flashed before his eyes and there’s nothing he could do about it, voice strained like much of the times he’s drank himself to sleep.

He resembles Haneul at the moment. He’s always had because there’s not one bit of Hyewon in his son’s features or personality, but he looks especially like him now that he’s crying. The back of his hands harshly dig into his face, sobs bursting right from his throat. “Why do I make everything so hard for us? Why can’t I— w-why can’t I make it right for once?”

There’s a tremble to your chest that you ignore earnestly, the presence of it enough to scare you because it’s familiar; too familiar. Seeing your past play out in front of you in the form of a seemingly content family sleeping on your bed is one thing, but it’s another to see its patriarch crumble in front of you. It’s different to see your past pleading in front of you for just the slightest bit of your attention.

As a matter of fact, it’s different now because you resemble Yoongi the most.

“You never tried,” you seethe, jumping the gun before you even try to decipher what’s in the barrel. It’s a bullet you fire haphazardly that comes from your pocket that you’ve always held onto. It’s a misplaced, misshapen, old bullet that you force into a gun that Yoongi passed onto you.

Right now, Yoongi doesn’t resemble Haneul, and neither does he resemble his ex-wife.

He resembles you with the way his eyes are clearly swimming in hurt while you avoid looking at his, just to relieve the painstaking feeling of guilt and longing compacted into a sob.

“I never tried?” Yoongi exhales shakily, his quivering hands running through his hair to tug on them.“I never tried?”

You hear yourself clearly even if it’s his voice. The tremble and the anger, even all the way to the blind hope.

“I kept trying to reach out to you every single time. Every single birthday, every single Christmas, every insignificant holiday I could search up!” Yoongi cries — he actually thrashes with the way he sobs, shoulders shaking violently. “I didn’t try? If I didn’t try, try looking at every page of my passport to see all the stamps there are whenever fucking Jungkook was reported to be in another country,” he spits his name like poison, the vitriol behind it, however, never catching up to what he feels about himself.

You resemble Yoongi the most because you stand untethered, eyes blurring and lips quivering, yet you only watch him lose himself before thinking of uttering a single word.

“I’m selfish, I’m an asshole, and I’m fucking insufferable. I can’t even apologize to you correctly,” Yoongi lists, chest rising up and down too heavily, he feels like it’ll give out. “But I love you, Y/N. I-I might be every bad thing in your life right now and I own up to that. I’m still trying to be the best for you.”

Not only does Yoongi resemble you — he’s actually become you.

“You can call me the vilest names ever but you can’t say that,” he grits, teeth chattering not from the cold he’s put himself in, but because he can’t stop mentioning your name in between. “You can’t say I never tried because I always have. I’ll never stop because that’s what it takes,” Yoongi mutters; because, he says, not if.

.

.

.

#i am so sorry in advance <3 wanna read the finale now? subscribe to my patreon for early access + exclusive content + everything :D

also yes: the finale will still be posted here on tumblr, but at a later date, aka april 7, 1 am kst :)

[yup-thats-me]

—shaving cream • Izana.K

pairing : Kurokawa Izana x reader

summary : y/n helps Izana shave

Y/n’s giggles filled her and Izana’s shared room as her boyfriend nuzzled his face against hers. “’zana, babe, I’m serious stop!” she managed to say as she tried to catch her breath. “Your beard’s growing back. It's itching my face.”

“Oh yeah?” Izana questioned, touching his face. “You’re right... Maybe I should get a cut tomorrow.” Y/n hummed at his words. The room fell silent again as Y/n’s hand ran through his platinum hair, a content smile on her face.

“Should I give you a shave, baby?” y/n asked her boyfriend who shot up at her words. “You can?” the surprise was evident in his voice.

Y/n let out a small giggle. “Of course I can.” Izana was quiet for a moment maybe contemplating the offer when finally, he said “Okay,” got up from their bed carried Y/n, and set her down on the bathroom counter.

Y/n sat there happily on the counter, swinging her legs as Izana arranged all the things required — the blade, a towel, and shaving cream. Izana wetted the shaving brush and handed the brush and shaving cream to the girl who gleefully accepted and began lathering her boyfriend’s face, humming happily.

“You look so happy, hmm?” Izana smiled, caressing her hair. “And why shouldn’t I be? It's been a fantasy of mine that I’ll shave my boyfriend’s face, just like this.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling in a childlike innocence.

“And I get the honor to fulfill my girl’s fantasy? I’m truly the luckiest man alive.”

Y/n did not answer this time as she carefully set the blade, she held the tool before his face and spoke in a somewhat stern voice. “Hmm. Now be quiet, and don’t move. I don’t wanna cut your pretty face.”

Izana listened, keeping quiet all the while her blade ran through his face. It didn’t hurt at all. Honestly, Izana was ready to have a few cuts and band-aids on his face as this was the first time that y/n had helped him shave. He was ready to be bloody if that meant his girl was happy.

As Y/n cleaned his face with the towel, Izana asked another question. “Baby, do you mind if I ask where you learned to shave?” Y/n smiled, pinching his cheek.

“I’ve seen other men shaving their faces, ‘Zana. I observed them and learned. That’s all.”

While her answer was a simple one, Izana couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy hit his chest. With Y/n being as pretty as she is, it's given that she’s been in a relationship with other men. But the bond the two shared in the present, was so close. Izana often thought they were already a married couple, nagging and bickering with each other like they’d been together for more than thirty years. Izana truly believed that the two were special, more than any other couple. Maybe that wasn’t true.

Seeing Izana grow quiet, Y/n caressed his face and brought the man back to reality. “You’re overthinking, aren’t you, ‘Zana?” She declared in a hushed tone. She pulled him against her for an embrace, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Those men, ‘Zana, were my older brother and father, dummy,” she said as her fingers played with his hair. Listening to her say those words, Izana let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry for being so childish and immature,” he mumbled against the crook of her neck, pulling her closer to him by the waist.

Y/n let out a small giggle. “It's okay, ‘Zana. I’m gonna assure you of us as many times as you need, my love.”

do not copy, steal or translate my work to any other site. all rights reserved to yup-thats-me on tumblr

[cherienymphe]

Love Bites III (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, suicidal thoughts, vampire!Avengers, mentions of Peter x reader, bloodplay, violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, jealous!Steve, modern setting they just wealthy af

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love.

~

Your reflection stared back at you as you gazed into the mirror, feeling so far removed from your body as you brushed your fingers over the faint bite marks on your neck. They were something to be worn with pride, something to be admired—coveted even—but as you stared at them, all you could see was the physical evidence of your imprisonment.

As your lips parted, memories of a sweet-natured and soft-hearted vampire came to mind.

You absentmindedly wondered if you would’ve worn Peter’s mark with pride had you been given the option, and the silent question seemed almost silly because the answer was obvious. You would’ve happily let Peter leave whatever mark he wanted on you, because that would’ve been different. It would’ve been a mark you consented to, a mark that came from you willingly giving yourself to the dark-haired vampire. That kind of mark would’ve been the result of you surrendering yourself to him with perfect trust, and he in turn choosing to handle your trust and vulnerability with care.

It would’ve been a mark of love.

Such a thought almost brought tears to your eyes, but you pushed them back, refusing to let Steve smell them and come running. The thought of the blond angered you in a way that was hard to even describe. Since that night he’d raped you again, unable to stomach your refusal of him any longer, you hadn’t so much as given him a hint of anything less than a cold disposition.

Yes, you smiled at him when it was important, and you responded when he asked you things, but it was never with anything more than a tight and forced curve of your lips. Your tone never went beyond anything that could be deemed a polite neutrality. Even when he drank from you, you closed your eyes and held yourself as still as you could be.

A mere tolerance of Steve and your situation had turned into nothing short of repulsion.

It really hadn’t occurred to you just how much you hated all of this until Peter was no longer around to make it easier to swallow. You didn’t have a single friend in this place, every person in your vicinity loyal to Steve above all. It was lonely and depressing in ways that were too painful to think about, and with the knowledge that you were so close to one more year around the sun, you found yourself wondering if you had the strength to do this until the end of your days.

You had never considered ending it all until Peter was gone.

With him around, you’d at least still had something to look forward to, something to put a smile on your face when you woke up in the morning. Now…you had nothing. Your days consisted of nothing but Steve and his every whim, and when you stopped to think about living out the rest of your life exactly like this, it overwhelmed you.

“Steve is starting to get impatient, Y/N.”

The sound of Nat’s voice accompanied by a knock on your bathroom door was enough to pull you from your depressing thoughts. With a sigh, you straightened your dress and swiftly joined her in your bedroom. She was focused on fixing her lipstick when your gaze met hers, and she closed her compact with a comforting smile.

“I was starting to think you’d taken a swim in there,” she teased, gently pulling you along. “You know how Steve gets when you keep him waiting.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, swallowing down what you were initially going to say.

“I’m sorry,” you evenly apologized, knowing that Steve could hear. “I just got lost in my head for a bit.”

You could feel the redhead’s eyes on you as she guided you towards the hall, and she let out a hum.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she mused. “Should I talk to Steve about having someone come and see you? You know how important it is that you’re healthy.”

You both knew that she wasn’t just referencing your physical health, and such a comment almost made you laugh. If any of them had genuinely cared about your mental health and happiness, then someone would’ve talked Steve out of turning Peter to ash. The bitterness was hard to swallow, but you managed, turning to look at her with a small smile.

“No, it’s nothing more than birthday musings.”

At the mention of the date just around the corner, her beautiful face lit up.

“Are you excited? One year older…”

While the powerful beings around you celebrated their own birthdays, it wasn’t the same nor nearly as exciting as physically aging and literally being one year closer to death. At least, that was what Peter had told you once. He’d made it known just how fascinated they all were by the subtle signs of aging, the smile lines that weren’t there before, the maturity in the face that wasn’t there before. Something about the fragility and tragedy of it all, he’d said.

How funny that he had met his end before you.

“As excited as I was last year,” you told her as she walked you down the hall.

That wasn’t entirely true. You were much more excited last year for reasons that were obvious to you, and this year, you couldn’t muster up anything beyond a dreaded anxiousness. There was nothing to be excited about in your opinion, but to make matters worse, you would swear that Nat seemed more excited this year than she was last year.

There was a twinkle in her eye whenever the topic came up, and whatever they had up their sleeve, you only wanted them to get it over with.

It was a cloudy and starless night when you both made it outside, Steve standing by the car with a slightly pinched look on his face. You said nothing as Natasha apologized to him for the delay, quickly joining Bucky before they both disappeared into the other car. You ignored the feel of his intense gaze as the driver opened the door for you both, Steve’s touch almost nonexistent as he guided you into the back seat.

This was the first time you would ever be leaving the grounds, and instead of feeling something akin to excitement, you only felt…numb. Something about a gathering every hundred years or so, and how lucky for you that the next one coincided with your time as Steve’s pet. It was another mansion full of more vampires who’d see you nothing more than Steve’s property.

There was nothing in you that looked forward to this night.

“We’re almost late because of you.”

Steve’s voice filled the car, the partition providing some privacy.

“I’m sorry,” you halfheartedly murmured. “I lost track of time.”

You could feel his eyes on you as you looked out of the tinted window, and your silent prayers that he’d leave you be for the duration of the ride went unanswered. Your heart sank when you felt his hand reach for yours, cold hand clasping with yours.

“Natasha has impeccable taste per usual. I hate when the dresses she picks out are better than anything I come up with,” he told you.

At that, your eyes fell to the black fabric, the sheer extravagance of it all, fingering the bow around your waist. Natasha enjoyed playing dress up with her human doll while Steve had a habit of wanting you to look like the piece of meat you were. It had sparked many an argument between them with the redhead always walking away a winner.

“I’d die before letting her know that though,” he hummed, tone mirthful, and with a deep breath, you threw him a polite smile.

It wasn’t lost on Steve, and so you shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him heave a sigh, letting you go.

“I understand that the technical age difference between us is monumental, but you are still an adult. This…habit of refusing to act like it as of late is getting old. Don’t you think…?”

You fought with yourself on whether or not to engage in this back and forth with him or not.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Steve,” you breathed, gaze still on the passing trees outside.

You sharply inhaled when your breathing was suddenly obstructed, Steve’s hand around your throat and only growing tighter by the second. Losing your cool for a moment, you reached up, grasping his arm and looking at him through wide eyes. His own baby blues were unreadable, pink lips pressed together as he studied you.

“You’re behaving like a child.”

“I haven’t-.”

“Do you think just because you’re not cursing my name that the whole coven can’t see you’re angry with me?”

Steve’s lips brushed your cheek as he leaned in, and when he loosened his hold ever so slightly, you knew that he actually wanted an answer.

“I’m not,” you forced out.

Steve hummed, tightening his hand a bit.

“You are…but that’s okay,” he quietly said, pulling away. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

He fixed the top of your dress as well as the choker around your throat.

“You will not embarrass me,” he continued, and you stared ahead as he stroked your cheek. “For your sake…because you know how much I hate it when you force my hand.”

You blinked, ignoring the sting behind your eyes as Steve leaned back in his seat, heaving a heavy sigh.

“She is quite the pretty thing, isn’t she?”

The smile on your face was tight, fingers around your drink tighter as the strange woman reached out to touch your chin. Nakia, if you remembered correctly. She was just as breathtaking as the rest, her dark eyes drinking you in as she talked to the woman next to her.

“I’d heard years ago that Steve had taken a new pet. I’m so glad you’re still alive so that I could meet you,” the other woman said, her dark hair contrasting with her fair skin. “He has such a temper, that one. Hardly a tolerance for anything.”

They chuckled amongst themselves, and you forced yourself to swallow down your disgust and disturbance at how casually they spoke of the death of innocent people before your time. Yes, you’d heard the odd comment here and there over the years of how you weren’t the first of Steve’s trinkets.

You were just the first to last this long.

Your oh so gracious owner was off mingling with the host of this soiree, a burly blond man with the deepest voice you’d ever heard. You recalled the way his multicolored eyes had appreciatively taken you in, nodding to himself and Steve as if he was congratulating the other man on a job well done. You really hated that it took Peter’s death to fully realize just how much you really detested all of this.

You felt like you were in hell.

…and the devil himself was fast approaching.

The women with you quieted at Steve’s advance, quietly slipping away after acknowledging him. You, however, were focused on the woman at his side. You’d only seen her once, and that was earlier in the night when you’d been introduced to her husband, Thor. They made an attractive couple, positive that the brunette’s natural beauty had only been enhanced after her transition.

“Y/N, you remember Jane.”

Steve hadn’t been happy with you most of the evening, and the slight warning in his blue gaze had your tight smile softening some.

“Of course, it’s lovely to meet you again,” you told her.

“You as well. I mentioned to Steve here that you must be so lonely with so few of your kind around, and he suggested we get to know one another better. He thought it might be good for you,” she gently replied.

She seemed kind enough, kinder than most you’d been around, but there was something in her smile that seemed…off. She and Steve shared one last look as he left you, and the woman with the kind eyes looped her arm with yours.

“Every century the neighboring covens get together to discuss their discretion and orders of succession and all that,” she eventually started as you both slowly made your way outside.

Where Steve’s estate was dark and imposing and stereotypical in every way, Thor’s mansion was much brighter and welcoming. There was a Norse quality about the architecture, and something in you—when combined with the origin of Thor’s name—wondered just how old the blond was. Jane paused in front of a happy statue, gazing up at it with a small smile.

“This is my first time too, and I don’t doubt that you find it as boring as I do,” she confessed, shocking you.

You frowned at her a bit, having not realized just how young she was in their years, and you blinked. Even Peter had been over a hundred, and you silently wondered when she’d been turned. You didn’t dare ask, both because it wasn’t your business and also because a good chunk of you couldn’t care less. However, your interest was piqued when she answered your silent question.

“I’ve been like this for maybe…seven years now?”

Your eyes widened at that, meeting her honey brown gaze.

“I think you’re the youngest I’ve ever met,” you told her, voicing your thoughts.

Her kindness and softness suddenly made a lot more sense. There was still so much humanity left in her, her human life still fresh in her spirit, her short years as a vampire unsuccessful in desensitizing her and leaving her void of empathy. So far, anyway. She tilted her head from side to side, seemingly mulling it over with a hum.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I’m definitely the youngest I know of…as of yet.”

She looked back to the statue at that, and something about that last comment made your chest ache. Only you didn’t know why.

“Thor made me,” she breathed, sounding happy about the fact. “He decided that he didn’t want to be without me, and I’d felt the same for some time at that point.”

The details that she was leaving out had your mind whirling, and she soon put you out of your misery.

“There was a time where I belonged to him just as you belong to Steve.”

She finally looked at you again as she told you this, and you were unable to hide your shock, lips parting.

“…what?”

It wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common either. Humans were pets, and pets were property, but let Natasha tell it, there had been the odd case of a human pet becoming a lover and eventually…a consort. An eternal companion.

“I see,” you eventually added, getting a hold of yourself. “Well…I suppose I’m happy for you.”

The way she studied you made you uncomfortable, and you found yourself playing with your hands.

“Thor was kind to me, always had been, and he treated me like nothing less than a princess.”

You didn’t really have a response to that. After all, how kind—how well could he really treat her—if he had been keeping her prisoner to feed off of for years? Jane certainly seemed happy enough, but you kept your thoughts to yourself on how you saw her situation as nothing more than a glorified victim. She’d fallen for her captor, not unheard of, and no less tragic just because she was like him, now.

“Steve is quite taken with you.”

That came out of nowhere to you, and you looked at her again. Again, there was something in her small smile that unnerved you, a glint in her eye that made your stomach twist. For the strangest reason, you felt like there was something you were missing, and you didn’t like it.

“After all, the rumor is he’s never kept a human this long before. I hear he doesn’t tolerate much,” she continued.

“That’s not untrue. I dare say I have another…one…maybe two years before he’s finally fed up with me,” you lightly teased although there was a hint of seriousness in your tone.

Deep down, you hoped that it was less.

Jane laughed, and your eyes met hers as she reached out to adjust your necklace.

“Silly girl,” she gently admonished. “I can’t foresee Steve ever being rid of you. He’s much too obsessed with you for that. Watches you like a hawk, that one does.”

You swallowed uncomfortably, stepping out of her reach a tad and watching as her hand fell.

“Well, he’ll have no choice someday. I am human, after all.”

Jane tilted her head, shoulder length brown hair kissing her skin as she studied you. There was a slight frown on her face as she dragged her gaze over you.

“For now.”

Those two simple words had your heart stuttering, and your face fell as you gave her your undivided attention.

“There’s quite an easy fix to ensure you’re at his side forever,” she reminded you, and it was then…

That you understood.

You took another step back from her, almost stumbling in your heels, and you couldn’t fix your mouth to form the words that your mind wanted to say. This entire conversation was stirring up thoughts you didn’t even want to entertain, didn’t even want to consider, because the thought was preposterous. Horrifying even, but why else?

Why else would Steve think it’d be good for the two of you to talk? Of all the new vampires in the world, why the one whose former master had made her like him so that she could be with him forever? Why her? You tried to push it down, but it assaulted your mind anyway, and you dazedly shook your head at her, apologizing before excusing yourself.

There was blood rushing in your ears, and you pressed your hand to your chest as you stumbled back inside, fighting to calm your heart for multiple reasons.

No.

Absolutely not.

You didn’t even want to think it, but it couldn’t be helped. Steve wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t, but as you repeated that to yourself, you wondered how true that was. Wasn’t it months ago that he’d killed the love of your life out of jealousy and some misguided belief that he loved you? Hadn’t he killed a vampire he’d known and had been intimate with for centuries for the same reasons?

Tears kissed your eyes as you stared at the floor, feeling just as cold as Steve did to the touch.

There had been a time when the prospect of eternal life called to you, back when the man you loved was till around. You’d only wanted to live forever if it were with him, and once he was out of the picture, all thoughts of that had ceased. You had never entertained the thought of becoming a vampire anyway, and especially not with Steve. Why would you?

You leaned against the wall, a few tears spilling over as you fought with yourself, telling yourself that you were just getting a head of yourself, that’s all. Jane’s own thoughts in regard to your mortality didn’t mean they were Steve’s. Maybe it was all in your head, a mere coincidence, but the refusal to believe otherwise didn’t prevent your legs from faltering, hand sliding along the wall as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

“Steve, she’ll be fine. Listen… She’s waking up, see?”

Sam’s voice seemed so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you grimaced as your senses came back to you, greeted with none other than a headache. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, but pretending to be asleep in a room full of vampires had never and would never work. With reluctance, you peeled them open, staring up at a familiar ceiling.

You heard a deep exhale, and it wasn’t long before you were joined on the bed, a hand on your forehead.

You didn’t need to look over to know that it was Steve.

“…and you’re sure she’s alright?”

“No concussion or anything of the sort. Nothing to be concerned with either. It appears she just fainted, perhaps lightheaded or hungry.”

Dr. Banner’s voice was surprising to hear. It had been some time since you’d seen the dark-haired vampire, and you slowly looked over as he wrote something down on a clipboard. Sam was standing behind him while Natasha and Bucky sat on your couch, the redhead the picture of concern while her husband appeared as if he couldn’t care less.

“So, she’s been neglecting herself.”

Your heart dropped at the drop in Steve’s tone, and you hesitantly glanced up, finally looking at the blond and unsurprised to find his gaze already on you. He didn’t look happy, and you looked away, mentally preparing yourself for an earful.

“I wouldn’t say that. Humans are fragile, Steve, you know this. Any number of things could’ve caused her to feel faint, and seeing as no one was around to witness the moments prior, who is to say what really caused it. All that matters is she is healthy,” Dr. Banner argued.

You crossed your arms over your chest as they finished discussing you, and when Steve dismissed the other three after Dr. Banner’s departure, you sighed.

“Had you eaten?”

“Yes, Steve, I ate,” you assured him. “I just got lightheaded is all.”

You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he wouldn’t be looking away anytime soon, so you finally lifted your gaze again.

“I found you,” he confessed, jaw taut, and you almost wished he hadn’t.

There was no telling the thoughts in his head when he saw you lying there.

“I heard your heart beat faster than it ever had before…and then it slowed so suddenly I thought you were dead.”

“Well…I’m not, so…”

“You scared me.”

“Why?” you harshly asked, gaze accusatory as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m easily replaceable. If I die…I’m sure you can find another woman to kidnap.”

The blond harshly looked away at that, and you eyed him as he rested a hand on his hip.

“You say that so callously…like it wouldn’t hurt me to bury you,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.

“It shouldn’t. Who am I to you other than a warm body and a nightly cocktail?”

You jumped when he swiped a figurine off of your table. It had been a gift from him years ago, and you swallowed when his cold eyes met yours. Right. Let Steve tell it, he loved you, and that same thought that’d made you faint hours earlier threatened to overtake you again. You dismissively looked away from him, and considering how many times it had been pointed out to you tonight, you wondered what line you’d eventually cross that would push Steve to just…drain you dry.

“I’ve told you before Steve…you don’t know what love is,” you quietly said, staring at your sheets. “…and while I don’t doubt the worry you felt when you found me tonight, I do doubt that it had anything to do with love.”

You desperately wanted to ask him why he’d been so keen on you talking to Jane tonight. You wanted to ask him if he’d ever entertained the thought of turning you for himself, keeping you at his side forever and dragging out what should’ve been one miserable lifetime into infinite. You wanted to…but you were so terrified of the answer.

You were confident that Steve wouldn’t, but there was some small part of you that said otherwise, and the more you laid there, the bigger that part of you became. The voice became louder, whispering the unthinkable, and you turned over, quietly and politely asking Steve to leave you be. You were sure he wouldn’t drink from you tonight, but you wanted him gone, nonetheless.

…because if there was truth to your newfound fears…

You would slit your throat in a heartbeat.

Steve listened to you, albeit reluctantly, but not without nearing your bed and resting his hand on your forehead again. He stood there for some time, just standing over you and watching you, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he brushed his thumb over your skin. Your eyes burned when he leaned down, pressing his lips into your hair and deeply inhaling. It was too reminiscent of something he wasn’t, too much like a lover, and you only relaxed again when he was gone.

The morning of your birthday was greeted with the finest of foods and finest of gifts. No different than the years before, but all the more depressing. Last year, you’d eaten your breakfast with the excitement of seeing Peter afterwards. You had smiled at Natasha as she ran you a milk bath, playing with the rose petals because you knew that you’d be spending most of your day with Peter. His presence had made the grand fanfare of your party something meaningful instead of the conceited and egotistic brag of Steve that it actually was.

Today, however…

Today you had nothing and no one to look forward to.

You were polite as you opened gift after gift, thanking Natasha for the dress or Sam for the bracelet or Bucky for the wine. The last one was done with a barely hidden sneer. After all, the wine was more so a gift for Steve than for you, the saccharine drink given with the purpose of making your blood taste sweeter.

Nothing about this day was actually for you.

Every gift and every praise were done to exalt Steve.

You had to look your best at your party tonight because anything less, and you’d embarrass Steve. Everyone had to ooh at the pretty jewelry Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to aah at the gorgeous dress Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to see how lavishly he spoiled you, how well he looked after you, how wonderful a master he was.

It made you sick.

“It might get old after some time, but it really is so exciting to celebrate an actual birthday,” Natasha told you as she dragged the small brush over your lips. “It’s so miniscule or even non existent with human eyes, I’m sure, but you do look a whole year older.”

“I feel ten years older,” you half joked.

She chuckled at the comment, either unaware or completely ignoring the implication that you felt so aged after Peter’s death.

“A mortal life is really so fleeting. A blink of an eye to us,” she mused with a small frown. “I swear, it was just yesterday that you were first brought here.”

The redhead paused, looking down at you with a wistful gaze.

“So young…so terrified…”

She hummed, continuing with her work.

You tried not to think of those first few months you were here. They were too painful, to be honest. After all, what was there to look back on but the loss of your best friend by the very same man you were forced to be around all the time? The years gone by had done nothing to lessen the anger and hurt every time you looked at Bucky.

An average day to him was one of the worst of your life.

When Natasha felt satisfied enough with you, she smiled, brushing her hand along your cheek.

“You look so radiant…like a birthday girl,” she praised. “Steve will be pleased.”

Your face fell some at that, reminded that once again, a compliment for you was never actually for you.

Like last year, the manor was full of vampires with the occasional human pet tagging along. Unlike last year though, there were way more people in attendance. You even caught sight of Thor and Jane, and you thought it was ironically fitting that the one year full of more extravagance and fanfare than the others was the one year you just wanted to drop dead.

Natasha was right, of course.

Steve was more than pleased with your look for the night, and he gave her a thankful nod as he took your hand. His own was gentle in yours, and you pointedly ignored the way he brushed his thumb over the back of it. Steve looked as impeccable as he always did, and your gaze passed over him as you looked around the room.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

You took a deep breath before looking at him with the perfect smile.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He stared into your eyes for a few moments before his own smile grew, satisfaction crossing his features at your dedication to be on your best behavior. When his small smile shifted into a small smirk, you were tempted to be defiant just for the hell of it.

He brought your hand to his lips as he walked through the room, leading you to the head table.

You spent so much of the night repeating empty thanks to faces both familiar and those not. You were positive not a single compliment was genuine, every one accompanied with another compliment to Steve. She looks as radiant as always. You take such good care of her. She’s the perfect reflection of you. It was dehumanizing in a way you couldn’t even articulate, and you thought that you’d be used to it after years, but again…

With Peter not around to soften the blow…

When you danced with Steve, you didn’t look at him. You kept your gaze on the guests around you, giving the impression of a thankful birthday girl when in actuality, you couldn’t really stomach the sight of Steve. An entire day that should’ve been dedicated to you being dedicated to him in a roundabout way instead was too disheartening.

“You look better,” he whispered in your ear. “You heart sounds strong too.”

You swallowed a sigh, your smile falling some.

“If I didn’t…would that stop you from coming to me tonight and doing what you’ve wanted to do for days?”

“Didn’t it stop me already?”

You didn’t respond to that, only sending Natasha a forced smile when you caught her eye. Steve’s hands fell to your waist, and he lifted you a tad as he spun you, sharp teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“It’s your birthday, my love…” your heart dropped at that. “Smile and be happy.”

You were still looking at him strangely when he led you back to the table, wondering where on earth such a term of endearment had come from. You pushed it away when he left you there, Natasha immediately pulling you into conversation. It was hard to focus, the feel of Steve’s hand in yours and the sound of his voice in your ear on your mind.

My love?

You wondered if centuries on this earth could drive a vampire mad. Nothing about what you and Steve had was loving, and it seemed that no matter how many times you pointed that out to him, he only became more deluded. It was like trying to get through a brick wall, and when the time came for Steve to give you his gift, you only wanted this night to be over.

“Y/N has been a part of this coven for years, now,” Steve said, standing beside you as you sat. “Something both surprising to others and myself…but I’ve come to find great comfort at the sight of her face every day.”

You looked up at him in wonder, thinking to yourself that his birthday speech from last year was far less intimate and more appreciative of the blood you unwillingly provided him a few times a week. You watched as he opened the jewelry box you’d seen him fiddle with all evening. The light glinted off of the necklace.

The diamonds were plentiful, but what caught your eye—and what was probably meant to—was the green stone at the center of it. Everything Steve had ever given you was excessive in some way, but this was different. It didn’t look like something passed down through the generations or some nice ring to compliment your fingers.

This was a necklace bought with intention.

You felt uneasy as Steve guided you to stand, fingers lingering on yours a bit before moving behind you. You looked everywhere and nowhere all at once, afraid to catch anyone’s eye. You were used to the attention, especially on this day, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest from growing. The necklace was cool against your skin, and you shuddered as it pressed into your throat with the tightening of Steve’s hand.

You swallowed, tempted to reach up when he finally loosened his hold, hooking it closed and adjusting it to his liking.

“You deserve nothing but the best on your birthday, but this necklace is fit for a queen,” Steve said, speaking to you now. “A mistress of the house.”

You slowly turned to look at him at that, face falling. Steve reached out, touching your face, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. Your eyes burned at the meaning behind his words, telling yourself that it wasn’t what you thought.

“I’ve ruled this coven by myself for centuries…”

“Steve…”

“…and you’ve only been by my side for a few short years of that, but I intend to rule centuries more…with you right next to me.”

Your hands shook, and you realized that the loud noise in your ears wasn’t the rush of your blood or even your loud heartbeat, but instead the awed excitement of all the vampires before you. Steve took your hand, pulling you closer, and in your confusion, you stumbled towards him.

“As my wife…my eternal lover…my consort.”

~

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