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misshoneyimhome · 2 days

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Inexperienced reader marked up Willy's neck while sitting on his lap. His desperate groans forced her to bite down harder than she had before as they grinded against one another. She felt her heart rate speed up as her breathing became shallow. Willy's body began to tense up as he let out a loud moan. She released her grip and pulled away, her cheeks burning. Are you gonna try & hide them?" You say, pulling away with a pout on your lips. Willy shook his head, a mischievous smile on his face as he pointed his index finger at her. "No way," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I'm gonna show them off." They are both possessive in their own right.

Mmm yes, they're definitely possessive babe! And we them for it 😉

So, this chapter turned out to be rather soft, yet still filled with loads of smut - and I just hope you all enjoy it 😊🤍

[casual outing] [Hair tucking]

Tropes & warnings; jealous!Willy, Jealous!reader, Smut 18+; fingering, handjob, penetrative sex (p in v), hair pulling, light spanking, cum inside, oral sex (m receiving), more penetrative sex (p in vi), cum shot, praise!kink;

Word count; 5.6K

"God morgon, prinsessa," = Good morning, princess

"God morgon, min prins," = Good morning, my prince

「Inexperienced!reader x Willy」

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @Fortheloveofnylander @justwanderingbutneverlost

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt XV I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️

Navigating life as an NHL girlfriend always came with its share of highs and lows. And as the regular season drew to a close and the playoffs loomed closer, you found yourself experiencing the bitter side of the journey.

Your feelings for your boyfriend William Nylander remained steadfast regardless, yet the strain on your relationship was becoming palpable.

Describing the final weeks of March as tough felt like an understatement; victories against the Oilers followed by losses to the Hurricanes and the Devils, then another win against the Capitals and the Sabres. It was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone involved.

And after each game, you did your utmost to either console William or provide him with unwavering support. But it wasn't always a straightforward task.

While William typically kept his emotions in check in public, behind closed doors, he was gradually becoming more open. The topic was somewhat delicate, with several small discussions sparked by his seemingly too calm demeanour, yet you encouraged him to let it out.

As you'd discuss the games on your way home, he'd often brush it off, insisting that everything was fine, and they simply needed to perform better next time. And he wasn't entirely wrong. It was perhaps the healthiest mindset to maintain mental stability. Yet, beneath the surface, you sensed there was more to the story, something simmering beneath his composed exterior.

But when William avoided delving deeper into the matter, you decided it was best to table it, at least for the time being.

As April began, the stakes grew higher than ever. The Toronto Maple Leafs teetered on the edge of playoffs, demanding undivided attention to games and training. Consequently, you found yourself inadvertently assuming the role of a housewife, managing grocery runs, meal preparation, and dog-walking duties, especially when William's trainer couldn't spare the time. And balancing your own work responsibilities with being a supportive hockey girlfriend was gradually becoming overwhelming.

Just weeks ago, amidst some wonderful moments shared with William, discussions ventured into territories like finances and the integration of your lives, leading you to make the decision to give up your apartment and fully commit to living with him.

However, as tensions simmered within the walls of your spacious condo, each evening seemingly hotter with unresolved arguments, you reached a breaking point. So you opted to spend a few days at your own place. It wasn't about avoiding William but rather acknowledging the toll these conflicts were taking on you, and recognising you needed a breather before it got too tense.

You knew the conversations weren't too bad, at least not as per what some of the other girlfriends and wives had shared with you. It was simply around this time of year when the players tend to turn everything into a debate at home. Yet it felt as if the world would come crashing down if you kept it going.

It would typically start with you attempting to console William, and then it’d escalate.

"Come on, Willy, just talk to me – that's what I'm here for,” you spoke firmly.

"There's nothing to talk about. Just leave it, y/n,” he avoided your attempt for a conversation.

"Look, it's obviously bothering you – I can sense it..."

"Oh, so now you can feel what I feel? Great talent there, y/n..." William almost snorted.

"That's not fair, Willy... All I want is to try and help..."

"But there's nothing you can do to help! It is what it is."

"Stop saying that! All I want is to support you – there's no need for you to be a dick about it!"

"Well, that's just how it is! You knew that when you got into a relationship with me..."

"Yes! I knew this would be a challenging time, and I was prepared for it – but you also knew you were getting into a relationship, so now you have to accept that you're not alone in this anymore. I'm here to support you, William Nylander, whether you like it or not!"

And with that, the discussion came to a close. It was a delicate balance, wanting to show support while giving William the space he needed. Meanwhile, he needed to understand that you would always be there for him, ready to lend a listening ear, and he couldn't simply push you away when he didn't want to confront his emotions.

So, after a few trial-and-error attempts, you somewhat figured it out.

Yet, stepping into your familiar home brought a sense of relief. Within your own walls, away from the chaos of hockey and media scrutiny, and the unanswerable questions at work about the team's performance, you found tranquillity.

Being apart from your boyfriend for a few days, even though you were in the same city, wasn't easy. But it felt necessary.

And for William, it did provide some focus on his training and the upcoming match against the Canadiens.Deep down, he understood that you weren't trying to leave him, though a part of him feared it. He recognised that you needed time and space, just as he often did, to concentrate on matters beyond the minor disputes at home.

And as the Leafs returned from Montreal, having officially secured their place in the playoffs, it felt like things were returning to normal. Back in your shared home, wrapped in each other's arms, it was pure celebration. You were practically inseparable upon his return, elated from the victory.

Sunday was solely dedicated to celebration, and in his role as a gracious host and teammate, Mitch had extended an invitation to the team for dinner at his restaurant. It was meant to be a relaxed evening, bearing in mind the upcoming game against the Penguins the following day, and with the tense and challenging times ahead, everyone saw it as an opportunity to enjoy some calm before the storm.

However, as you moved about the condo, getting ready for the evening proved to be a bit of a challenge.

"Willy," you giggled as you struggled to put on your outfit, standing in the walk-in closet wearing nothing but your underwear. "You really need to let go so I can finish up."

"Hmm," he hummed as he embraced you, burying his face in your neck and planting kisses while his hands wandered over your body, eventually settling on his favourite spot: your ass. "But then you'll just put on clothes... and I prefer you without..." he teased, pulling back to meet your gaze with a mischievous grin.

"Well, I'm sorry, but that would be highly inappropriate for a restaurant outing," you chuckled as you gently wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body lightly against his.

"Or... maybe we skip the dinner... and just stay in here, where we can both be naked," he suggested seductively, and you couldn't help but smile and shake your head gently.

"You can be such a brat sometimes – this is your team, Willy, and we both know you'd love to be with them for dinner," you reasoned with a playful glint in your eye. While the idea of staying home, naked and cuddled up with William was tempting, you also recognised the importance of gatherings like tonight's.

"Hmm," William merely hummed. "I suppose I'll have to... maybe then, try and persuade you."

William's chuckle was nothing short of cheeky and seductive, and you couldn't help but emit a squeak as he hoisted you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom where he playfully tossed you onto the mattress. It was a typical Nylander move, and once he had that dark look in his eyes, there was no stopping him from giving in to the sexual tension, from feeling him inside you as he elicited cries and moans from your lips.

And tonight, even before dinner, was no exception.

As William captured your lips with his, you were immediately drawn into his touch, completely captivated as his tongue danced with yours. Your lips moved in sync, your hands clutching his blonde locks tightly as his body pressed against yours, igniting a hunger and intensity filled with raw lust and desire. And before long, he freed his already hard member from his boxers, discarding your lacy underwear in the process.

You knew this wouldn't be one of those drawn-out sessions where William took his time eating you out, ensuring you reached climax multiple times before satisfying himself. Instead, it was a quick, eager, and playful encounter, where you started out by stroking his shaft, eliciting moans from him, while he moistened two fingers with saliva and inserted them into your core.

The kisses were fervent, occasionally interrupted by moans and heavy breaths. Hands explored each other's bodies, drawing each other closer until William abruptly pulled away. And in one swift motion, he turned you around, knelt behind you, lifted your ass, and entered you.

"Fuck yes..." he groaned deeply as he effortlessly filled you, hitting all the right spots with ease.

"Mmm, yes, Willy..." you moaned in tandem with his deep sounds, quickly succumbing to primal passion. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, while William's hands firmly grasped your hips as he thrust into your warmth. It was far from romantic; it was raw, unbridled passion as William intensified his pace, his hips colliding with yours, his heavy breaths mingling with your loud cries.

William was simply overcome with desire for your body, but knowing he wasn't one to climax too quickly, he also knew he had to exert force to prevent the encounter from dragging on.

And caught in the heat of the moment, he couldn't restrain his actions. His thrusts were powerful and unrelenting, his hand finding your long hair and gripping it tightly as he increased his speed.

"Fuck... Willy!" you cried out as he piston deeper and faster with each thrust. Pleasure surged through you, tears threatening to spill from the sheer intensity as your body surrendered to his forceful advances. Your core clenched around his relentless shaft, your walls overstimulated, and your cunt dripping with every movement. "Shiii- Willy... Oh god, I'm gonn—"

You couldn't even form coherent words as he pulled your head back, intensifying his movements even further. And you were certain his thrusts would leave a mark on your skin, yet in that moment, you couldn't care less.

William's actions were so fierce and dominant that you had to close your eyes and surrender to him completely. Your body belonged to him, and you had no desire to challenge his power. Instead, you allowed ecstasy to consume you entirely, your moans growing louder and louder as your orgasm surged through your body, mind, and soul, causing you to scream his name for all to hear.

"Fuck, yes... that's my good girl," William praised, maintaining his movements as he felt his own climax nearing. "I fucking love this ass..." And with a swift motion, he let go of your hip to deliver a firm smack to your cheek.

Your wet core seemed tailor-made for his cock as he pounded into you with incredible force, his shaft drenched as it slid in and out of you, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room. With each thrust, he increased his speed, pushing himself closer to the edge, and his deep grunts filled the air as he shut his eyes and moaned deeply, releasing himself into your depths.

The experience was nothing short of amazing and intense. It took a few minutes for both of you to catch your breath and regain your strength before slowly disentangling yourselves from the position. No words were necessary. Your core was sore and tingling, coated with William's release as he withdrew, yet your mind was in a blissful state, completely consumed by the rush.

And William couldn't help but admire his handiwork as he noticed the slight redness on your skin from his actions. With a playful grin spreading across his lips, he gently caressed your cheek before placing a tender kiss on it.

"Fucking love this ass," he repeated, this time softer and filled with desire, causing you to look back at him with a chuckle.

"You're a real problem, Nylander..."

"What do you mean?" he chuckled darkly.

"Look what you've done. Now we both have to shower again and get dressed, meaning we'll be late for dinner..."

It was a familiar scenario. William was notorious on the team for always being late, and for the past four months, you had been one of the main reasons for that. Your sex life had always been adventurous, but it was the spontaneity that made it even more fun. And William made no effort to hide it from anyone.

"Well, then we better get moving," he simply chuckled before getting off the bed with a wide grin.

"Finally, you guys decided to show up!" Auston exclaimed as you entered, everyone already seated.

"Still running late, Willy," Mitch chimed in with a chuckle.

"Yeah, but I bet it's not entirely his fault this time," Järnkrok added with a grin and a wink, causing you to blush slightly as you couldn't deny the truth. Yet, you were quick with a retort.

"Well, at least he's getting some action, unlike some others," you said with a cocky smile, eliciting loud 'oooohhhh's from the players, with William laughing loudly beside you.

And the evening unfolded beautifully, as always. Mitch and Stephanie were excellent hosts, and the upscale restaurant buzzed with nothing but laughter and conversations. The delicious food delighted your taste buds, and the atmosphere was overall filled with joy.

And as everyone anticipated the approaching game, it was evident that everyone needed this evening to unwind and simply enjoy each other's company. Yet, one small detail disrupted your comfort.

"Hey, are you okay?" William whispered as he noticed your slight movements in your seat.

"Hmm," you simply nodded before leaning closer to him. "Though... I'm a little sore, Willy," you whispered, unable to suppress a chuckle.

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow, flashing a satisfied smirk that earned an eye-roll from you.

"Yeah... you were a bit rough, mister," you smiled.

"Hmm, thought you liked it when I'm rough," he grinned, a statement you couldn't really refute. A significant part of your sex life often involved dominant and submissive play, and truth be told you had no complaints.

"Hmm, maybe I do," you softly admitted. "It's just... not easy to sit when your lady parts have been pounded like that..."

Biting his lower lip, William couldn't resist voicing his naughty thoughts. "Well, then I suppose we'll just have to keep practicing until you get used to it."

Even among close friends and their families, the two of you couldn't control your banter. However, as the night progressed, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

After the third course, you joined a few of the ladies in the bathroom, engaging in heartfelt conversations and sharing experiences from the past few weeks.

"Don't worry, y/n," Aryne spoke sweetly. "It's just the playoffs weighing on him. William will be back to his usual self in no time – it just requires a bit more patience from our side this time of year." The other girls nodded in agreement.

Their words were comforting and reassuring. Being your first time dating a professional athlete, you needed their encouragement and support. And after all, most of them had dealt with their husbands and boyfriends throughout their careers.

"How about a drink?" Tessa then suggested with a smile, earning enthusiastic agreement from the group, including you.

And as you all headed to the bar for drinks, any worries seemed to fade away. Amidst laughter and playful jokes about how the ladies needed drinks to cope with their men, you felt completely at ease and comfortable.

That was, until you suddenly felt someone's gaze on you. And it wasn't your boyfriend's.

A few feet away, a rather handsome man was looking in your direction. Though he could have been staring at any woman in the group, you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you turned your head and met his eyes, and he offered you a smile. It wasn't overly direct or forward; just a man trying to flirt with a woman from across the room.

However, almost instinctively, while trying not to consciously reciprocate the flirting, you soon felt a pair of hands on you. And this time, it was your boyfriend's.

He didn't say a word. William's hand simply found its way to your ass, where it belonged, as he stood close to you, flashing you a sweet smile before planting a kiss on your cheek. You didn't even have to look to know that he was eyeing the man who had been attempting to flirt with you, sending him a clear message with a look that said, 'she's mine,' while discreetly giving your cheek a gentle squeeze.

And you couldn't deny how good it made you feel. Knowing that William was boldly asserting your relationship status to the world had you feeling captivated. Especially since you were aware of the numerous girls who longed to be with him, fantasising about your breakup so they could swoop in. But William didn't hide the fact that he was taken, and that made you smile.

Yet, a small part of you felt the temptation to play with fire.

"Feeling a little jealous, are we?" you chuckled lightly as you sipped your drink, William's hand still firmly on your cheek, while more people joined the group at the bar.

"Mmm, he wants what's mine, and I don't like that," William huskily whispered under his breath.

"Yours? Willy, I'm not anyone's property," you raised an eyebrow, but he simply chuckled darkly.

"Yes, you are," he smirked. "It's part of the deal of being with me. I give you a place to stay, and in return, this belongs to me."

His words ignited another arousal within you, despite having just experienced a wonderful orgasm a few hours earlier.

"Oh, so that's how you see it? Hmm, then maybe I should reconsider giving up my apartment," you challenged him, and it seemed to awaken something primal within your boyfriend.

"No - you can't back out now. I've claimed your ass, and now you're mine."

There was a silent exchange of glances as the intensity of the moment lingered, William's hand remaining firmly in place. However, when Mitch announced the arrival of the next course, you both silently agreed to set aside your playful banter for the time being.

It was all fun and games between you and William. Well, most of the time at least.

He'd assert his possessiveness over you, you'd playfully challenge him, and then he'd assert his dominance in a sexual manner, reminding you that you did, in fact, belong to him. However, as Monday rolled around and it was time for the Leafs to face off against the Penguins, the dynamics seemed to shift.

The game was nothing short of exhilarating, but it was almost too intense for your liking. After Pittsburgh scored the first goal in the opening period, Kniesy retaliated in the second, followed by Auston putting the Leafs in the lead in the third. But just when victory seemed within reach, the Penguins fought back, forcing the game into overtime. Fortunately, McCabe saved the day, securing a 3-2 victory for the Leafs on home turf, boosting their confidence before their upcoming trip to New Jersey.

But despite the win, a slight unease lingered within you as you prepared to meet your boyfriend in the hallways after the match. Normally, you prided yourself on not being the jealous type of girlfriend who felt insecure when her boyfriend talked to other girls. However, there was something about this particular girl that set your mind spinning.

She was undeniably stunning, her smile radiant and her eyes sparkling as her brown hair cascaded gracefully down her back. And seeing her laughing and chatting with William sparked a small wave of guilt within you.

Nevertheless, you maintained your composure. Slowly, you approached your laughing boyfriend and gently wrapped your arms around his sturdy frame.

"Oh, hey babe," he chuckled, still engrossed in his conversation with the beautiful girl, only briefly acknowledging your presence.

"What's so funny?" you smiled, trying to join in on the conversation.

"I was just telling Willy here about some of the comments people have left on his Rogers' commercial," the girl explained with a sweet tone and smile. "They're just hilarious."

And William continued to laugh, his signature laughter filling the hallway.

"Oh yeah, those were indeed funny," you tried to laugh along, though the amusement quickly faded.

"Anyway, I better get going," the brunette smiled before bidding farewell to William.

There was a moment of silence as William's laughter subsided and he turned to face you.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"What what?" you replied, feigning ignorance of the fact that he had caught on to your jealousy.

"You know what... you're being jealous," he pointed out with a smirk.

"Well, of course I am," you retorted, your voice firm as you gently crossed your arms over your chest. "My boyfriend's chatting with a gorgeous girl after a win, smiling like he's a teenager seeing boobs for the first time, and acting as if I didn't notice."

"Oh, come on, she's just a journalist, babe," William chuckled nonchalantly.

"Well then why isn't she asking you questions along with the other journalists over there?" you pointed to the station where players usually gave their post-game statements.

"She just came up to me and asked me if..." he trailed off, stopping himself before he dug himself deeper.

"Asking you what?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing..." he tried to brush it off, but he knew it was futile.

"Well, if it's nothing, then why can't you tell me?" Your voice softened, tinged with vulnerability as you were reminded of other girls who were interested in your boyfriend.

And letting out a deep sigh, William knew honesty was the best policy. "She asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee together..."

"Oh..." you paused for a moment. "And you said yes?"

"Well, yeah, I mean, it doesn't mean anything - she's just doing her job," he chuckled lightly.

"Right... her job... so that means she's also getting coffee with all the other players?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Um... no, I don't think so... but that's because she was there when I did the commercial thing... and she's just... I don't know, catching up, I guess."

You tried your best not to let your frustration show, but William was already aware of your feelings.

"Hey, babe, it's not like she's making any moves - I mean, she's a journalist, she knows I have a girlfriend..." he flashed you a confident smile, and though you didn't trust the journalist's intentions, you trusted your boyfriend.

Just as you expected him to trust you despite other men hitting on you.

So, you let it go and simply let out a calm sigh. "Right, how about we go home then, and I'll remind you just how much I love this relationship," you smirked up at him, gently wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

"Mmm, I don't think I can say no to that," William chuckled, before bidding goodbye to the others and leaving.

You already started the foreplay in the car, teasing his thigh higher and higher until you were close to his groin. Then, in the lift, he couldn't resist, eagerly kissing you as he pressed you against the wall. So, when you entered the condo, you took charge, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, flashing him a lustful smirk as you pulled him towards the bedroom.

William didn't resist; he enjoyed your attempt at dominance. But as soon as you were both in nothing but underwear, he reclaimed his dominant role.

And of course, there was no other way for you to express your desire for your boyfriend than by kneeling in front of him in your fine underwear, opening your mouth as your eyes pleaded for him to feed you with his hard cock.

With you kneeling before him, eager to take him deep into your throat, William felt like he was in heaven. Your warm mouth worked wonders around his throbbing cock, and the small gagging sounds you made whenever he pushed a little too far only added to his pleasure.

You were his submissive, and your sole desire was to please him.

"Mmm, baby, you're so good," he hummed under his breath as you continued to bob your head, focused solely on breathing through your nose as you took him deeper and deeper. Occasionally, you glanced up at him through your lashes, watching as his muscles tensed under your hand, which you used for support while the other stroked his length where your mouth couldn't reach.

But as you pressed yourself further, your nose hitting the pubic hair of his crotch, and you gagged around him, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth and trailing down your chin, William found it incredibly arousing. He held significant power over you, and the sight thrilled him.

However, as he felt his climax approaching, he knew he wasn't ready to finish just yet. So, instead, he withdrew himself from your wonderful mouth.

"Such a good girl…" he praised softly, before gently guiding you to the bed. But as you moved towards the mattress, you signalled your desire to be on top, and William happily granted your wish.

After removing your underwear, he lay down on his back, and you couldn't help but smile as you straddled his hips. He was already dripping with precum, mixed with your saliva, and your arousal was evident, making it effortless for you to sink down onto his cock and let him fill you up.

"Oh yes, Willy," you moaned as his thick member stretched your entrance, stimulating your walls with every inch.

"Mmm, baby, you feel so good around me," he moaned in harmony, his hands instinctively gripping your hips.

And as your bodies connected, you began to sway your hips, rocking back and forth in sensual motions, your hands finding support on his chest. With each movement, allowing his hardness to glide in and out of your wet core, your moans grew louder. Pleasure rushed through your body, and you increased your pace, your breaths heavy and your mind consumed by sensation.

Then as the intensity grew, your bodies became sweatier and hotter, your vision blurring with each thrust. Addicted to the pleasure, you increased your speed once again, seeking that euphoric high.

"Mmm… shit, Willy," you moaned in a soft cry, your hips moving desperately as your thighs pressed against the man beneath you.

"Yes, älskling… you're such a good girl," William muttered. "Fucking ride me, baby… fucking cum on my dick…"

In the heat of the moment, his words worked like a magic spell, and with a forceful motion, you panted and gasped for air as you reached climax.

You even had to pause your movements, filling your lungs with air as you shut your eyes and cried out his name in pleasure. Your tight muscles pulsed around his shaft as you calmed from the high of your orgasm, your legs trembling from the intensity.

And as you slowly came down from the euphoric state, William sat up, gently pushing his cock a little deeper inside you as he grabbed your hair and pulled you in for a messy kiss.

"Hmm, fucking love it when you make yourself cum on me," he spoke huskily under his breath, and with a smirk adorning your sweaty face, you then started to slowly move your hips again, rocking gently as you kissed his bearded chin and neck, occasionally biting down with your teeth before pulling back.

The room was hot and steamy, and as he felt your cunt pulsating around his member, he felt the need for his own release stirring. So, taking a firm hold of your body, William then turned you both over and pushed your back into the mattress.

In one swift movement, he seized your hands and held them above your head as he began to thrust into you, while your legs instinctively wrapped around his lower body, heels pressing into his skin as you surrendered to his actions. His movements were powerful, yet this time, he attempted to maintain a sense of romance as you exchanged deep, passionate kisses.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, allowing him to thrust mercilessly and deeply, pushing you to the edge of overstimulation as he approached his climax. William's grip on your wrists was strong, and as he pounded even faster, you knew he was nearing completion.

"Oh, yes, Willy, cum for me…" you moaned loudly, gasping for breath as you became undone for him.

"Yeah... baby, I'm so close..." he breathed heavily in response. So, with a few more intense thrusts, William withdrew abruptly, knelt back, and ejaculated onto your lower stomach with a deep grunt. "God...," he moaned huskily as he reached a more intense climax than expected, his sticky white cum covering your skin like a canvas.

It was messy, yet incredibly arousing. Your body still trembled as you recovered from the intense sex, and your legs shook as you gradually regained strength. Meanwhile, William caught his breath, admiring his handiwork.

Your body was undeniably stunning, but what he admired most was how well he knew it and how effortlessly he could please you, eliciting loud moans and squirms with his touch.

And as the two of you gradually returned to reality, smiles graced your faces, unable to contain the sense of satisfaction. Additionally, William naturally assisted in tidying up the aftermath by leading you to the bathroom, where he tenderly and leisurely washed your bodies with lukewarm water cascading over the two of you, sharing deep kisses and reaffirming the connection that had united you from the outset. It was the bond that held you together through the peaks and valleys, through all the challenges you encountered as a couple.

As morning broke and William's alarm shattered your peaceful sleep, you couldn't help but smile as you turned to see his serene expression, while William, true to form, didn't immediately wake from the alarm; he was a dedicated snoozer. Yet, what always brought him to full consciousness was your kiss. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, planting soft kisses all over his handsome face until he slowly opened his eyes.

"God morgon, prinsessa," William murmured huskily, still half-asleep.

"God morgon, min prins," you smiled in return.

Despite the early hour, it was a cosy morning, with the passionate warmth from the night before still lingering between you. Any lingering traces of jealousy were overshadowed by the depth of your relationship, dispelling any intrusive negative thoughts.

As you exchanged lazy morning kisses, William's embrace tightened around you, drawing you closer to his body, the warmth emanating from him as you felt his morning hardness pressing against you. And with a smile of your own, you summoned the strength to position yourself on top of him.

William sat up straight, his bare chest pressed against your breasts as he drew you even nearer, deepening the kiss. However, you pulled back slightly, biting your lower lip before licking them seductively, trailing your fingers along his neck where you admired the faint marks from the night before.

Yet, not entirely satisfied with your handiwork, you returned your lips to his skin, your fingers tangling in his hair as he leaned back against the headboard. Despite the early hour, William could already feel himself responding to your touch, the anticipation of being apart from you again igniting a primal craving.

And his desperate groans only spurred you to bite down harder as you allowed your hips to gently grind against his lap. Your heart rate quickened, breaths becoming shallow, while William's body tensed, releasing a loud moan. Then pulling away from his flushed skin, you felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"Hmm," William muttered. "Leaving your mark, are you?" he chuckled mischievously, earning a light nod from you.

"Can't have you walking around without people knowing you have a girlfriend, can we?" you spoke seductively, your fingers delicately tracing the marks you skilfully created.

"And why's that?" William grinned, rhetorically acknowledging the possessiveness stirring within you, mirroring his own.

"Well, maybe there's going to be another journalist trying to grab coffee with you…" you playfully smiled.

"Hmm, yeah, we can't have that, can we," William chuckled, merely acknowledging the playful banter.

There was a brief moment of silence as you both admired each other in the soft morning light, knowing you would only be apart for the day, sharing a tender kiss.

"So," you spoke, pulling away with a pout on your lips, "Are you going to try and hide them?"

But William simply shook his head, a mischievous smile on his face as he gently rubbed his index finger across your lower lip. "No way," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I'm going to show them off."

It was a simple moment, yet it emphasised the possessiveness you both held for each other. Though you trusted each other implicitly, there were still lingering worries in the back of your minds.

You always harboured a nervousness that William might grow bored of you, drawn instead to the other incredibly beautiful women who seemed to appear in his life. Meanwhile, William feared that you might tire of his lifestyle and one day simply decide to leave in pursuit of a more conventional life.

Yet, neither of you had any intentions of parting ways.

#my asks #18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

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pharawee · 7 months

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Boat Napat and Tiger Tanawat have joined Hearth and Non as the second couple in Live in Love and I love them and their colours already 🥰

#live in love the series #non ratchanon #hearth chindanai #boat napat #tiger tanawat #jane watches stuff #boat was champ in tharntype and it's about time he got another show #tiger was in pastsenger and he's v cute #i am so ready for this #i need something light-hearted and low-stakes

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sunlightmurdock · 3 months

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okay apocalypse dbf!jake will not let me go again so- I need the confession 🙏 I need the tear-stained first kiss after an attack, with too much adrenaline and too little care for the inappropriate age gap

EEK me either me either me either ! I’m so insane about him rn

And I feel like this particular attack would be a big one. Resources are running low and Jake won’t leave you up on that mountain by yourself, so he has no choice but to bring you with him. He has done what he can, preparing you for this.

It scares you, even when it’s just all pretend with him. He’s not as kind when he’s training you. Even as you’re crying and telling him to stop it, that you don’t want to, he’s yelling and insisting that you aim straight and breathe — that these things won’t stop no matter how much you cry, or scream, or beg.

He doesn’t mean to be cruel. It would be far more cruel to leave you unprepared, to let something happen to you.

This is a low stakes run, but you can feel that he’s unhappy having you here. It’s itching at you that maybe it’s because you couldn’t hit that target last time. He had tied a thick tree branch to a length of rope, pushed hard, and let it swing. Your first moving target. Not so much as a chip in the wood. You’ve got a pretty big knife, one that could tear muscle from bone— he won’t give you a gun.

You know he’s focused on protecting you, it’s an awful feeling to think that you may not be able to do the same for him, especially after all he has done for you so far.

It’s a gas station, back off of the road, early enough on that it hasn’t yet been completely raided. Heavy metal shutters cover the windows, but Jake makes quick work of the padlocks on the back door. The power has all gone out by now, it’s just the light from your flashlights to guide the way. Jake is two paces ahead, close enough to jump back and pull you behind him if he needs.

It’s eerily quiet. You’re stuck to him like a shadow as he surveys for danger, and ultimately decides that it’s okay.

Keep away from the doors and windows, stay where I can see you. Dejected and feeling more uselessly childish than you have in a long time, you sweep the shelves and take what you can while Jake does the same. Continually, he checks over top of the shelves to see if he can see the top of your head.

It’s going too well, it tricks you both into thinking that this is going to be easy. You’re focused, on your knees and rummaging through the medicines to take everything you could need. You don’t even notice the noise that you’re making. Jake doesn’t mind the rummaging sounds, it means he can hear where you are without needing to watch.

But then, so can the employee who took such care to fortify this place before he took swallowed back a cocktail and pills the second that he saw his home in flames and his undead mother staggering around on the news footage. He made himself comfortable before he passed. His shoes and his jacket are in the back room. His socks are almost silent against the linoleum as he staggers around the corner.

He’s tall, and skinny, and hadn’t hurt anyone in his entire life. But he’s close enough by the time you spot him that his height gives you no room to stand up. His eyes are wide and gorging, the sockets sullen and lifeless. You haven’t seen one of them so clean before, part of him still looks human. His lips are pulled back, animal, growling weakly as he reaches for you and tumbles forwards.

Jake hears the scream and he swears that he’s going to be too late. Even just across the floor of the gas station — it takes seconds for one of those things to get their jaws around you. He’s sick to his stomach, his gun pulled and the safety off, uncaring about if the sound draws attention for miles around.

He rounds the corner and spots the puddle of dark, thick blood first. His heart sinks to his stomach, until he realises that it isn’t yours. You push the corpse back, off of you. Your knife is plunged through the socket of its eye, it’s dead. You take one look at Jake, and crumble, tears pouring from your eyes as you stare at your blood soaked hands.

“Shh, I’m here. Shh, shh, shh. You’re okay,” Jake whispers, sinking to his knees and pulling you off of the floor, cradling you in his arms as he kisses the top of your head. “It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re safe, you’re okay.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t see it— it was —“

“I know, sweet girl,” Jake whispers, rubbing soothingly at your back. He presses his lips together and kisses softly at your temple. “You did so good. You did it. You’re alright now.”

Again, Jake kisses your temple softly, hugging you closer. His weight and his smell, his strong arms wrapped around you. All of it almost makes you forget where you are. Blinking back any more tears, you turn your head as he kisses at your temple again. This time, you’re looking at him as he pulls back.

Tears soaking your lashes and your cheeks, staring up at him. Jake’s throat feels thick, his mouth suddenly dry as your fingers press into his arms. You are okay, you did it. He’s here. You sit forwards first, and Jake’s met with the exact thing that he has been trying to stop himself from thinking about for these past few weeks. Your lips are just as soft as they look, and your hands pawing at his arms make him melt into you.

Before all of this, Jake tried so hard to fight it. You’re so much younger. Your father would have never approved. Now, he supposes — it doesn’t matter. What matters, is keeping you safe, and he’s so glad that you’re safe.

His hand grabs firmly at the nape of your neck as he presses closer, deepening his hold on you, kissing you firmly.

#dbf!jake #apocalypse dilf jake #dads best friend Jake #jake Seresin #jake hangman Seresin #jake Seresin x reader

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the---hermit · 1 year

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Legends And Lattes by Travis Baldree

Ever since I first heard of this book I was intrigued. It's described as an high fantasy with low stakes, people who read it defined it super cozy, so I had to try it. Especially because in the past few years I have read less fantasy than I'd like to admit, mostly because I felt like I didn't have enough mental energy to follow a complicated high fantasy world, I don't like to get into books just because and not dedicate each of them the right amount of attention and energies. This book was the perfect lighthearted and cozy story with a fantasy setting that just made it so much better. This has definitely entered my comfort books shelf, I will definitely pick it up again in the future when I need something cozy to feel better about everything in life. The story is quite simple, Viv, an orc, decides she has had enough advenutres and decides to open a cafe. It's the perfect story for autumn and winter because it is indeed very cozy, and it will make you want to bake every food you read about. I highly recommend this novel, I think it would work amazingly for those who want to read fantasy without getting into a super complicated world of politics, it would also work very well if you want to get into fantasy but are intimidated by the genre, this could be a very light-hearted start. I also think it could be the perfect book to get you out of a reading slump.

This is one of the books I read for the studyblr w/knives autumn reading challenge for the anticipated release prompt.

#studyblr #studyinspo #bookblr #booklr #book #books #book cover #fantady book #pretty books #legends and lattes #travis baldree #book rec #book review #book recommendation #studyblr w/knives reading challenge #reading #mine #the---hermit

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sibsteria · 2 years

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The Honorary Mikaelson

Warnings: angsty, fluff, smut, mutual pining, jealous!Kol, drug use, violence

Summary: Song fic based on Dove Cameron's Boyfriend because I have such a kink for that banger

Character: Kol Mikaelson x original!heretic!fem!Reader, platonic!mikaelsons x reader, Damon Salvatore x reader

this took me hours rip, I didn’t proof read so any mistakes pls comment and I’ll take care of it besties

Word count: 3000+

I can't believe we're finally alone

He had her in the confines of his arms, palming the wall beside her head, trapped by his body. The smooth fabric of his pants hot against her leg, which protruded from the slit of her gown.

His natural scent, a sugary concoction of honey with a champagne inflection, her favourite.

His words sending her head into a fuss of emotions. She made his heart hammer like a headboard on a honeymoon, and for all the decades he had kept his composure, he couldn't give it up now.

I can't believe I almost went home

He had been on the verge or retiring to his room, his solitary compound, more so to sulk. But seeing her get pushed around by him was the last straw. Disrespecting his family is punishable by death, but disrespecting his Y/n? You poor tortured soul. If you have her, the woman of every man's dreams, why jeopardise it? He just couldn't see the point.

What are the chances? Everyone's dancing

The ball was in full swing, silks and satins gracing the dresses that were soft to the touch, cashmere and cotton suit jackets that fit like a glove.

Partners of two, parading around the floor, a chandelier hanging low from the ceiling. Hues of gold and white painted the walls of the room, generous trimmings of rich fancy. Lights dim but not dark, complimenting the romantic ambience of the night.

And he's not with you

The brown haired sex pest, as he saw him, hand in hand with another woman. Those Salvatore brothers seemed to be on the verge of a sibling owned harem, reserved only for Elena Gilbert.

He had watched his best friend get neglected by both her boyfriend and his brother, as they had chosen to focus their efforts on twirling the crybaby around the dancefloor.

He would have heard her heart sink if she were still human, and he would have hated it, instead he saw the burning tears welling in her eyes- which was debatably worse.

He had her now, attempting to speak sense into the space between her ears, of which hung expensive diamond earrings.

''I need you to understand me.''

''I do, Kol, I just don't want to hurt him-''

''You won't hurt him, you are incapable of hurting him, because he doesn't love you.'' His undead heart hammering in his chest. The silence was a shot stake to their hearts. She was struggling to find the dialect, having kept such secrets for so long.

''I...''

''It's killing me. Watching you be let down, all these years together and I still can't bare to see you get your heart broken.''

It was killing him that Y/n had never seen the eyes he would give her, the pure devotion, a sacred passion for only she.

''I...have suspected that he may not love me. It was obvious from the start the more I think about it.'' She whispers, eyes sullen and glazed over.

''I don't understand how you're upset about him, him!''

The universe must have divined this

''That's not why I'm upset. Am I so nauseating that I cannot be loved?''

Her eyes bore deep into his, he can feel her silent crying breaths hit his skin due to the intimate position.

''I don't understand what you're saying, darling.''

She looks off to the space behind him, choosing her words carefully. The nickname sending shivers down her spine.

''Must I spend every night alone? For all the centuries, I've never been graced with a genuine love. All my distractions, the men, a means to an end-''

''Distractions for what? There can't be something I don't know about you.''

''There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Mikaelson.''

''I simply don't believe it, we turned together. We have been daggered together, I know you inside and out. So please tell me, what is exactly is it that I missed?''

What am I gonna do

''Only my reason for living.''

''Which is?''

''You.''

He had felt his chest tighten, the excitement of such a statement almost making him choke on his own spit.

''W-What are you saying?'' He had never been one to stammer.

''That I love you-'' She turned her head to the side, refusing to meet his eyes for the sure rejection. He removed his palms from the wall, she had assumed it was a disgusted urge to get away from her.

''Y/n-''

''Give me a moment. I need to get it all out or I fear I never will. I have loved you since we picked wildflowers for the first time, in the meadows that stretched for miles, probably in this very spot we stand in. You always did pursue the more confident women, my mind had convinced itself I never stood a chance. When we turned, when it all-'' she swallows, the memories of poor Henrik, ''-happened. I thought that eternity together may help you love me? But you had never showed interest, so I purged myself on wine and women and men that came along. I understand, if your wish is for distance, I can leave this manor and never speak to you again. After all, finding out that your best friend since birth has been in love with you all these years you may find...uncomfortable-'' she feels the hot tears running down her face, watching the smirk on his face cracked her open, ''I'm glad you find this funny-'' she pushes past his shoulder, to leave.

Not grab your wrist?

His hand reaches for hers, gripping her wrist. He uses his vamp speed to pin her back against the wall.

He's kissing her, with a fervour that no man could match, his body couldn't be closer to hers. Her eyes roll back into a closed position, she whimpers into the kiss. Her arms come up to secure themselves around his neck, his right arm is anchored around her waist. His left hand comes up to cup her cheek, wiping away the tears that stood angrily pouring.

I could be a better boyfriend than him

He parts from the kiss reluctantly.

''I'm yours.'' He's breathless.

''Since when?'' She's curious, a childlike innocence has returned to her eyes.

''Before you felt for me, I can say for sure. We were ten, you tripped and grazed your knee on that stupid rock-''

''The one in front of my home-'' She gasps at the memory.

''-you cried so hard, I remember I came running, it seems like nothing compared to what we've been through since then.'' His eyes gloss over, remembering how many times you had been daggered in front of him, although you were not apart of his family- Niklaus still saw you as a disobeying sister, or someone he must protect from the world.

''That was what did it for you? A crying coward?'' She laughs through her tears of joy.

''Darling, you were ten.'' He snickers.

''I...still have that bluebell you picked for me. I casted a preserving spell on that day, I hid it from your siblings, Nik would have teased me forever.''

''We were so innocent.''

''Dumb as doorknobs, too.'' She lets her head fall forward, resting on his chest.

''You must know, I've never...bedded a woman.'' Her head shot up at this.

''Are you serious?''

''Not because I haven't had the opportunity, because I didn't want it if it wasn't you.'' She felt riddled with guilt, having been around in her lifetime.

''I'm so sorry, oh my-'' Her heart drops, realising how he must have felt watching her sleep around.

''You didn't know. Like you said, you used distractions, I wallowed in self pity like a wimp.'' His sad laughter could have broken her.

''I wish I could go back.'' She chokes on her words, it dawns on her that he could have been her first, and only.

''We can't, but we can go forward. I'm completely in this, you, forever.''

''Not always and forever?'' She makes a light joke at their family motto.

''We've had always since we first lay eyes on each other, it's time for me to give you forever.''

''You make me insane.'' She shakes her head at her infatuation.

''I'm so in love with you.''

I could do the shit that he never did

''So do me a favour, darling, dump the imbecile.''

''I'll kill him if you want.'' She shrugs, nonchalant at the thought of murdering the eldest Salvatore.

''And shield me the fun?'' He raises his brows at her.

''I apologise, I forgot we share the same bloodlust.'' She rolls her eyes.

''That, my love, is why we are soulmates.''

She grins like a sly cat.

''Soulmates?'' She giggles.

''You have been a Mikaelson since my family met you. I mean, we might as well be married by default.'' He crosses his arms, a joking tone.

''Take me out for a drink first, my brother in christ.'' She flicks his shoulder, he pulls her in by the waist, pressing another kiss to her lips.

She chuckles into the kiss, pushing back with matched passion.

''What the hell is this?'' A stern, loud tone shot from down the hallway.

She gasps, pulling away, fighting back laughter.

''Good evening, mate. Meet my girl, Y/n.'' Kol bows to the brunette, storming his way towards them.

''This had better be a very funny joke that I don't understand.'' Damon growls.

''Oh, save the hostility, we both know you don't care.'' Kol rolls his eyes.

''About you kissing her? Aren't you two, like, practically siblings?'' He challenges him.

''Well, she'll have my dna in her tonight, I guarantee-'' He was just too cocky for his own good.

Damon tried to slam the original against a wall only to receive a snap to the neck from the girl who had been battling a fit of giggles.

''Now that was just too far, no one puts hands on you.'' She reveals, walking forward.

''You had better use yours, or so help me-'' His gruff statement drives her desire to have him up against the wall he was almost thrown against.

''Wanna say that again?'' She leans forward, giving lingering kisses to his neck. His head tilts back, arms wrapping lightly around her.

''If you carry on, I'll write lines on a chalkboard, darling.'' He releases a moan as she wraps her lips around a patch of skin, sucking a dark red mark that soon disappears.

''Why do that when I can scratch lines down your back?'' She whispers into his ear.

This is going to be a long evening.

Up all night

His hand pushed her head into the pillows, chest tight against the sheets.

''Fuck, Kol.'' She moans out, his hand wrapping around her hair, his other one grasping her waist.

She insisted on this position, a favourite of hers that she felt he'd enjoy.

His incessant railing driving her over the edge, she bit the pillow below her crying out in broken whimpers.

Kol's desperate whines racked from deep in his chest as he pounded his hips into her with a newfound chase for release.

He remembered what she had told him, his hand releasing her hair, snaking down her front. He presses his middle and pointer finger to her clit, circling tight with a steady pressure.

This spurs her on, pushing her hips back to meet the heaviness of his thrusts.

His body drops forward, his lips pressing kisses to her shoulder, leading up to the crook of her neck before coming back up.

I won't quit

She had switched their positions now, wanting to see his face when he came.

Simple missionary, a plush pillow underneath her lower back.

His hands gripped the low-rise headboard, it was cracking every second under the strain of his grip.

She had her legs loosely wrapped around him, head shooting back to press against the mattress.

She muttered a spell under her breath, a wave of pleasure manipulating the nerves of her clit.

The feeling of his absolutely over average cock hitting her deep pulled moans from her with each snap of his hips.

Her hands raised to grip his shoulder blades, his thrusts becoming incredibly fast.

''Oh, god, Kol.''

Hearing her moan his name again was enough to send him over, he let go, painting her from the inside with centuries of desire being fullfilled. She followed after, clenching around him, dragging her sharp nails down the skin of his back as she had threatened.

He felt embarrassed at the pitch of his whines, but couldn't fight the noises he was making.

Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him

Downstairs, the blue eyed vampire stirred, groggy from his state of knock out.

He pushed himself up from the floor, steading against the wall. His ears tuned in to the sounds, not enjoying what he picked up.

The lewd groans of his now supposed ex-girlfriend and Kol Mikaelson.

''Gross. So gross.'' He puts a hand against his forehead, still fuzzy from his forced slumber.

I could be such a gentleman

She lay there, a sheet of sweat glazed her skin, chest heavy.

He rested his head down next to her, nuzzling his face into her neck, pressing soft kisses to the area.

''I love you, we should shower.'' She spoke, blunt and easy, a pause between the statements

A chortle escapes his lips, vibrating against her.

I could be a better boyfriend

''I love you too, maybe a shared bath wouldn't be too awful.'' He takes her earlobe between his teeth, grazing it lightly before getting up, a lustful sigh leaving her lips.

''Hey, you do not get to do that and walk away!'' She picks up a pillow, throwing it at the man, he catches it without even looking back.

''Well, we have every minute of forever for me to make it up to you.'' He winks, throwing the pillow back on the bed.

He entered his adjoined ensuite, putting in a plug before running the hot tap, he thinks back to the start of the gala.

I don't need to tell you twice

It was the beginning of a dance, Klaus had suggested guests in attendance should switch partners, adding some spice to the dusk.

He watched as her face lit up, beelining towards Rebekah, of course.

She took the blonde's hand, pulling her into an embrace before inaugurating the waltz.

Kol's eyes didn't once land on the lady who had clung to him, instead, lingering on his beauty and the happy moment she had found.

Rebekah loved the girl like family, they all did.

All the ways he can't suffice

He watched as her once beaming face dropped, smile leaving the pretty features.

He looked in the direction that had caught her eye. Of course, the filthy Salvatore had the hybrid blood bag in a close cradle.

If I could give you some advice

He wanted so desperately to heal her wounds, her aching heart. He knew how she had been taken advantage by the man, he knew that she knew he was doing it. The worst part was that she didn't care it was happening.

I would leave with me tonight

He remembers his pleas to the gods, from the second he had switched his dancing partner to his beloved Y/n, for her to have a moment alone with him.

He had promised flutes of champagne before whisking the girl off to an abandoned section of the mansion.

The universe must have divined this

He watches as the bubbles rise to the top of the tub, turning the knob to stop the water overflowing.

The sounds of his padding feet alert her to his presence, she exhales the smoke currently swirling around your mouth.

''Are you smoking without me?'' He teases, as if he didn't smell the smoke from the bathroom, choosing to let her have a moment alone.

''Want some?'' She holds her hand out for him to take the pre-roll, courtesy of Jeremy Gilbert's suit jacket she had raided, delighted to find the piece of heaven.

''Do you need to ask?'' He sits on the mattress, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he took the joint from her. She watched as his lips wrapped around the roach end, his hand coming up to lay against her thigh.

He craned his neck down, kissing her as he blew out the smoke, letting it bounce between their mouths.

''Bath is ready.''

Ladies first, baby, I insist

He trailed his fingers up and down her thigh as she sat, back to his chest, the water at a perfect temperature.

It felt so natural to be so close, as if they hadn't been only friends just hours ago.

Sure, she had kissed him many times, at the expense of games between her found family but this was different. There was heart in it.

Her eyes were closed and he couldn't help but admire her at ease face, you were at peace in this moment, he smiles to himself.

I could be a better boyfriend than him

Back at the party, Damon can't help but break the news to anyone who would listen, after all, he doesn't exactly love betrayal.

''Hey, big bad wolf, did you know that your sibling is upstairs railing the ever living fuck out of my girlfriend?'' His annoyed tone brings a grin to the hybrid's face.

''Oh? Which one, I wonder, has taken her on?'' He teases, of course he knows in his heart, exactly who.

''Take your guess.'' Damon is snide, a sarcastic fake smile slaps him across the facce.

''Finn? No, much to boring for our darling Y/n. It can't be 'Beks as she is over there hanging off the arm of that waiter. Ooh, my money would be on Elijah but he's much too noble to drop his trousers for a taken woman.'' He reaches out, picking up a glass of something from a passing busboy.

''Stop playing games. I'll kill him-''

''Will you?'' Klaus objects.

The Salvatore is silent.

''Because to me, it seems like you never cared for her at all, it takes me all of my will to not stake you where you stand- per Y/n's request. My thought is that she'll want to do it herself now, having found a reason to drop you and your...poor attempts of love and compassion.'' He takes a sip from his expensive crystal ware, his Mikaelson smirk still adorning his smug features.

I could do the shit that he never did

Being in Kol's arms felt so right, at long last.

Her heart skipped a beat every moment she realised it was real, that she wasn't dreaming in the discomfort of her past lovers bed.

Up all night, I won't quit

She knew the eve wasn't over, the pair still had a millennia of lost time to please.

Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him

Kol was proud at his efforts and success of getting his paws fangs on her, finally getting what he wanted.

He was growing tired of the pining and swooning.

I could be such a gentleman

His hands linger as he wraps the crisp white towel around her, hugging her from behind, nose pressed into her hair.

I could be a better boyfriend than him

Him. Who stood, defeated and angered.

I could be a better boyfriend

Memories sparked in Kol's mind, of all the times he could have stopped it.

I never would have left you alone

It was a party at the Salvatore boarding house, in late august.

She sat on the couch, legs and arms crossed watching her then boyfriend dance around with the girl she hated. Not because she wanted him and often tried to swipe him from her, no, because she was such a whiny crybaby. She read through old messages in the Mikaelson family group chat.

Here on your own, glued to your phone

Kol watched, a sad smile playing on his lips as you scrolled through whatever it was you had focused your attention on, shaking his head at the audacity of the ripper's worst half.

Never would have left you alone

He never would have left you alone.

For someone else to take you home

After all that, he still had to watch you disappear to sleep in his bed, for months on end.

He spoke up, snapping out of his thoughts and memories.

''I will worship you for eternity.'' The sincerity of his voice making you smile.

''And I, you.''

I could be a better boyfriend than him.

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whumpsday · 7 months

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K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #12

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, broken bones, begging, burns, torture, multiple whumpers, sadistic whumpers

@whumptober Day 12: Red / “I’m up, I’m up!”

Kane’s breaths came ragged and worn, his arms trembling as he tried to push himself back to his feet. His legs were both broken by now, red pooling beneath him.

The blood-slick floor only made it that much harder. What with his trembling, his body screaming at him to rest as if that was a viable option, the heel of his hand slipped and he came crashing down to the concrete once again.

“Oh?” the hunter on his left piped up, interest piqued. “That all you got in you? Come on, aren’t you supposed to be some fearsome thing? You’re a vampire!”

“No!” Kane cried, terror seizing his heart. “I just– I just need a minute! A minute, that’s all, sir! Please!”

“Go ahead.” The hunter waved him on graciously, and Kane reignited his efforts to stand. If he could just get himself leaning upright against the wall, if that could be good enough–

His partner took a drag from his cigarette, a human invention Kane had come to despise since learning of it. He had no doubt that it would kiss his skin when the hunter had finished it, though at least the burn would be mild compared to silver. Hardly the least of his worries.

“It’s done,” this one argued, gesturing at Kane’s pathetic form as he desperately pushed through the pain that coursed through his whole body, chest heaving. “C’mon. You owe me ten.”

“Give it a minute! Jeez!” The first hunter crouched down, level with Kane, still struggling to lift himself off the floor. “What’d I say? You wanna go out there, vampy?”

Kane sobbed, managing a shaky nod. “No, sir,” he forced out, “I’m trying, I’m trying, please, it hurts!”

“No one gives a fuck. Get up.” The hunter stood back to full height effortlessly.

“I’m giving it five minutes,” his partner announced.

Five minutes or he’s forced outside to burn. It was a low-stakes bet to the humans, but everything to him. He tried again and again, making no attempt to hold back his cries of pain.

His legs wailed in protest as he forced them up, bent at awkward angles as he tried to balance himself against the wall. Blood painted it as he clawed at the rough surface, but it wasn’t rough enough for him to hold himself up, and his legs just couldn’t support him in their state.

“Two.”

Kane choked on horror, his time dwindling. He couldn’t go out there, he’d do anything to avoid the sun, anything–

He dragged himself, his starved body just light enough for his weakened arms to pull along until he reached the bars. Something he could grab, something he could pull.

Kane grit his teeth and grabbed the bars, the silver instantly searing into the sensitive flesh of his palms and the undersides of his fingers. He shrieked, pulling his hands back with a fitful sob.

“Clock’s ticking!” the hunter betting on him shouted.

Three quick breaths, as deep as he could make them. One, two, three.

He grabbed the bars again, the familiar smell of burning flesh returning as he attempted to hoist himself up. He couldn’t get himself quite standing, his hands weeping out and his legs only becoming more deformed by the second as he tried to force them into functioning, but he was close. He could be called ‘upright’, given a generous-enough interpretation.

“I’m up, I’m up!” he cried, tears blurring his vision as the skin on his hands turned angry and red to match the useless blood covering the floor.

“Is it, though?” the hunter with the cigarette asked.

“Please!” Kane sobbed. He couldn’t do better than this, he couldn’t. He just needed to stay out of the sun.

“It totally counts!” the other hunter agreed, and for a man who had smashed his legs to smithereens minutes earlier, Kane had never felt more grateful to him.

“Fine, fine. You win.”

Kane released the bars, torched hands falling on top of the rest of his broken body as he collapsed to the floor. It seemed as though every part of him ached with agony, but he knew exactly how much worse it could get.

He didn’t even flinch at the cigarette pressed to the side of his neck.

#whumptober2023 #no.12 #red #i'm up i'm up #oc #fic #torture #burns #cigarettes #broken bones #kanes whumptober bites #kane and jim drabbles #whump #my writing #begging #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #multiple whumpers #sadistic whumper

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cerseimikaelson · 1 month

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HIII CERSEI GUESS WHOS BACK (YOUR FELLOW WOTG FAN) WITH MY THOUGHTS ON COTG:

It is such a funny book, my fav jokes being the 'shrek, fiona, donkey' joke and an underrated classic in my mind, the scene where percy is like "There was screaming, crying and running in circles, and that was ✨just me✨" when talking about blanche's story (its so brutally honest and funny in a vulnerable way, which I will expand later on with the vulnerable part of it). It had so many iconic moments

It was a very low stakes, slow plot. You can tell Rick wrote it for the experience of reading our fav characters again (adding on to the fact that rick was made to write it by disney as additional marketing for the show, you can tell the plot wasnt thought of much), and ive seen people get mad over it, id love to know what you think!

This is a bit of a touchy topic. I've seen the people on the internet calling percabeth abusive with the constant name calling and the physical ??violence?? ( i obviously dont agree, but thats another topic), but something I've observed that everything that anti percabeths pointed out was toned down in the book?? Another post confirms that the majority of seaweed brains in the book was from percys pov and not annabeth actually saying it (like when hes looking at her expression and saying things like 'she looked like she was trying to say,....') and also when it comes to physical 'violence' (it feels so wrong to say bc i cant find another word lolol), the only things i found while rereading were 'lightly pinched my arm' and 'nudged me with her toe' which is wayyyy more toned down than ricks usual 'swatting my arm' or 'punching me' or 'judoflipped me'

One thing I admire so much about this book is the way he's written the characters vulnerability. percys way more open when he talks about crying whereas in the books its brushed over a lot, which is something the lovely @demigods-posts pointed out. annabeth tearing up when sally compliments her on something small like a cupcake, grover scared of percy and annabeth leaving him, and ofc percy. i saw someone interpret the river god scene as a ptsd induced panic attack, and i admire how rick has written it with so much angst, but still kept it light for the tone of the books.

another thing i love is how the characters dont revolve around percy as a main character (which is probably something rick learned while writing the tv show). annabeth has hobbies of her own, she's in her dream school, she is a busy woman and good for her. grover regularly goes to camp, and has his own conflicts with his gf and stuff. sally and paul are on their own arc with the baby on the way.

the fluff needs a special mention. every moment is so cute and sweet, there are way too many instances, especially with grover and percy which there was a severe lack of in hoo. them turning to seven year olds, percy and annabeths daily night iris message routine, the domesticity of the jacksons family

As usual, I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions too, im so happy i get to talk about it with you :))

Heyyy friend, how are you? Thanks for the ask!

Since you mentioned her, I LOVED Blanche. Iris is one of my favourite goddesses, so it was great seeing her. And I loved watching a god actually be ignored by their teenage child for once instead of the other way around. Blanche being a propel rebel with the monochrome was golden. (also, pink hummingbirds? lol)

It is obvious there wasn't much in terms of an actual plot with real structure, but it was fun and light-hearted and it does set the foundation for something in the future. Not all quests need to be high stakes, all-hands-on-deck, the world is coming undone. I liked watching the trio have semi normal lives (meeting up for smoothies after school) instead of constantly being on hero mode.

I genuinely had no clue people were upset about Percabeth's interaction in this. But seriously, violence? Did those people forget Annabeth judo-flipped Percy in New Rome, or was it okay then because it was a grand romantic gesture? How is punching someone in the arm to tell them they are being an idiot (provided you don't turn them black and blue of course) abuse? Percy and Annabeth are in a relationship, obviously they are going to be tactile with each other. Not to mention, people often nudge each other in real life and nobody shouts abuse then. I am rambling now but honestly this is the first I've heard of this and I have opinions.

I know Rick wrote the PG version, but can we talk about Zeus literally objectifying Ganymede at brunch and nobody but Hera (and Percy silently) batting an eye? Honestly, I am not a hardcore Zeus hater (although he is an a**hole) but the way Rick writes him he has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I officially volunteer to be Hera's divorce attorney.

I really liked the idea of Annabeth having a secret fan club and having dinner with Sally, Percy and Paul every night. That was excellent.

I am already brainstorming theories about what the third book is going to be. Does it matter that WOTG isn't even out yet? Absolutely not. I kind of want it to be about Athena because her interactions with Percy are always 10/10, but that probably won't happen.

Feel free to send me asks about your favourite gods and goddesses, any headcanons you may have or anything you wish to discuss about PJO. You can also find me on ao3!

#cerseimikaelson #percy jackson #percy jackson series #pjo fandom #the chalice of the gods #ask #greek mythology

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thosehallowedhalls · 2 months

Text

Second Thoughts

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Tyril Starfury x Raine of Riverbend (F!MC)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1235

Summary: After choosing to leave the portals open, Raine is wrestling with second thoughts. Tyril is there to help her through them.

A/N: This started out as pure fluff and took a turn into the slightly angsty. Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge, prompts: flowers & "Your laughter is my favorite melody."

The first tulips begin to bloom in April, dancing merrily amidst the crocuses and daffodils. Raine can’t resist leaning in every so often and simply taking a deep, cleansing breath. There’s something invigorating about those first shaky efforts of springtime.

After the winter they’ve had, they deserve some spring.

It’s been six weeks since she made the call to leave the portals open, letting people and magic pass through them freely, but she can’t stop wondering if she made the wrong decision. For the first three weeks or so, she’d wake up in a panic in the middle of the night, heart racing and convinced she’d doomed everyone in both realms to a slow and painful death. Tyril talked her down from many a nightmare during those long, terrible nights, and she’d fall asleep again within the protective shelter of his arms.

She hasn’t had one of those nightmares in three weeks, but her waking hours are still plagued by doubts.

“You’ll get yourself stung by a bee,” he tells her fondly.

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Stopping to smell the roses is a time-honored human tradition. You’re just jealous you don’t have flowers in Undermount.”

“We do, too.” He gently tugs on her braid. “Next time you visit, I’ll show you the greenhouse.”

“How in the world do you…” She stops herself. “Ah. Magic.”

“Conjured in tandem by enough elves that only a little lifeforce is taken from each.”

“Tyril, you know I love flowers, but are they worth your lifeforce?”

His eyes light up at the promise of a debate. “Isn’t it also a human saying that beauty is its own reward?”

She takes his hand as images of him nearly falling at the battlefield flash before her eyes. “Nothing is worth your life, Tyril. Certainly not a few flowers.”

The argumentative light in his eyes gives way to tenderness. “I’ve never been one of the flora elves, Raine.”

“And you never will be. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She exhales. She feels like they just cheated death again. She feels like they just cheated death entirely too often. For once, she wants them to have simple, uncomplicated fun. “Let’s go on an adventure,” she tells him.

He raises an elegant brow. “May I inquire as to what you think we’ve been doing for the past year and a half?”

“I mean a fun adventure. Low stakes, no near-death experiences, absolutely zero monsters” A pause at his doubtful expression. “All right, fewer monsters.”

“We’re due to meet with Nia in less than two hours.”

“We can make it in time. Why don’t we go on a picnic to the woods?”

He looks at her. “Your heart is set on this, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Then I suppose we’re going on a picnic to the woods.”

“This was a good idea,” she says an hour later.

They’re sprawled out on a blanket, two goblets of elven wine and a bowl of assorted fruit resting near them. Tyril looks relaxed, his forehead free of the worry lines that are rarely far behind.

“Has it made you happy?” He asks, as if that’s the only relevant criteria.

“It really has. We needed this.” She raises herself up on an elbow and grins at him. “Especially you. Your frown lines were developing frown lines.”

“I believe I’ve had cause to frown lately,” he says dryly.

She reaches out to trace the little crease on his forehead with her fingers. “Of course. But the worst part is over, Tyril. We can relax.”

“That’s sound advice. Do you intend to take it?” He gives her a knowing look. “I’m not the only one who’s been frowning recently.”

She shifts, a guilty look in her eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” he admits. “You hide it well. It’s only that I watch you very closely.”

Well, hellsfire, what’s a girl supposed to say to that? “I keep wondering if I made the wrong decision. Should I have merged the realms? Or gone into the Shadow Realm? What if I made a mistake?”

“Uluvalir, I don’t think there was a right decision here.”

Despite the heaviness of the moment, she can’t resist teasing him. “That must’ve hurt you to say out loud.”

He ignores her. “Yes, leaving the portals open wasn’t a perfect solution. But if we had merged the realms, untold quantities of people would have died. Would you have been able to accept that?”

“No,” she admits. “It would have haunted me.”

“And if we had gone to the Shadow Realm, we don’t know what would have happened. We might have become infected by Shadow.”

“I’d never be able to forgive myself if you or the others had been hurt.” She blows out a breath. “Okay, I get it. There were no right choices, but there was the right choice for me. And I made it.”

Tyril takes her hand and tugs her closer. “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” She kisses him, then grins. “But you know what else would make me feel better?”

“I believe I have an idea…”

When he reaches for her, she scrambles back. “Mind out of the gutter, Lord Starfury. I meant a race.”

“A race? You want to run?”

But she’s already on her feet and making for the trees. She’s starting to gain a real advantage when the sound of her name stops her dead in her tracks.

“Raine!”

Alarmed, she skids to a stop. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I was promised no monsters!”

She runs back to him so fast her breath is coming out in short gasps when she finally reaches him. “What are you talking about?”

A blue finger points at a creature that’s… surprisingly small to be a monster. “That!”

She follows his line of vision and breaks into helpless peals of laughter. “Tyril… those aren’t monsters. Those are geese.”

“The difference is hardly significant!” He glares at her. “Are you enjoying this?”

“No! I’m not! It’s just…” But she’s doubled over now, laughing so hard she can’t finish her sentence. When she looks back up, she’s surprised to find him smiling slightly. “Is that a devious smile? Are you planning to feed me to our geese friends?”

“They’re not our friends. And no. It’s only that I haven’t seen you laugh like that in a very long time.”

“We haven’t had very many reasons to laugh.”

“No. But I suppose I’m glad for those blasted things.” He shoots the geese a distasteful look. His hand twitches, as if he’s considering casting a spell to keep them far away from him. But his face softens again when he turns to look at her. “Your laughter is my favorite melody.”

Undone, she walks to him. “And your smile is my favorite sight.”

“I suppose I’ll have to smile more often.”

“Yes please. You of all people don’t need more frown lines.”

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her to him. “I don’t believe it’s possible to be with you, Raine, and not smile.”

“Back at you.”

She tips her head to his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothes her, and the scent of flowers wafts up around them in a gentle welcome, a promise of more beauty yet to come. Her friends are safe, the realms are thriving, and Tyril is right here in her arms.

For once, all is right in her world.

#tyril x raine #tyril x mc #tyril starfury x mc #blades of light and shadow #playchoices

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tulipe-rose · 23 days

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Imagine how ironic, if not hilarious, it would be if yet another ginger took his last breathes while laying between Dazai's arms. I take it to be an interesting scenario multiple accounts attempted writing, and succeeding magnificently at that. I really enjoy reading the bitter tragedy interpreted by dozens of unique perspectives, such that I though I might as well add in my own. (Someone else probably thought of this first, so please don't call me a thief. If you do find a similar opinion, I'd appreciate it if you could politely link the post for me to read.)

Chūya Nakahara. Great Port Mafia executive, and wielder of his infamous gravitational ability; one of the most fearsome abilities out there. Enough to spark terror in the hearts of those whom once dared to oppose him, and survived to witness the light of day by some miracle. Said ability however, doesn't stand alone. The demon Arahabaki, a power that bears great weight on the ginger head's shoulders, occupies the young man's body around the clock. When activated, all sense is lost,and blind rage is left to lead.

Such a devastatingly extraordinary sight, quite fit for the demonic entity.

Finding beauty, or positive significance in such a hazardous display was something unique to the demon prodigy alone.

Chūya never truly resorts to using the Arahabaki demon unless backed into a corner, having complete faith in his partner's capability of halting him when the job was taken care of.

This time was supposedly no different. There occurred a fierce battle on a certain tranquil night, one that'd go down in history. There wasn't much of an option, it was a do or die situation, the stakes being the lives of his comrades. Chūya never hesitated when it came to protecting those whom treated him well, and had a significance in his heart. He'd never abandon them, even if they were to throw him under the bus. He was far too loyal.

Anyhow, Chūya slowly starts reciting the verse he seemed all too familiar with, before slowly descending into a feral state. The battle commences, and it's an utter disaster.

The enemy won't budge, and the corrupted Mafioso would be sent into more of an unintelligible state of madness, desiring destruction.

An issue arises, and that would be the absence of a particular lanky-beanpole, waste if bandages. By now, Dazai would be stepping in to break Chūya free of his corrupted chains, yet he's nowhere to be seen. Hell breaks loose, and the Arahabaki demon inflicts it's final blow.

...

Chūya Nakahara's body would crash to the ground before collapsing. His consciousness returned to him with great strain, and he was aware his last moments were his current. A faint sequence of haggard breathing could be heard. Though not having enough strength to take a glance at them, he knew whom these breathes belonged to. He knew that sound like the back of his hand; they didn't know each other for so long for nothing.

A soft croak escaped his partner, it's goal to grab the bandaged man's attention. The tone of voice was extremely faint and airy, yet Dazai paid undivided attention to every word. "'Agh... Hurts like hell..."

The messy man races over to cradle his partner's body, sensing the consciousness withering away. "Oh Chūya... You..." Dazai repeated to himself more than anything, his face rested into a frown, whispering in a low tone laced with subtle desperation. Regret was evident, and an expression that had been hidden away for far too long adorned his face next; sadness.

Dazai readjusts Chūya's position in his arms, "Now, now, Take it easy." Chūya looks on in mock irritation, before coughing up a handful of blood, causing him to recoil in exhaustion. "Damn it... This is probably it for me... Though I had no idea waking up was an possible... I'm... saying this only once... .. Don't you dare die, you damned Mackerel... That weretiger needs you..." Dazai looked on in muted horror, anxiety, strong denial and sorrow. The moment he never assumd to come, the one that he had happily dreamt of; it's here, and Dazai couldn't help but feel helpless. He held Chūya tighter, never daring to interrupt. "Ane-san..." His speech was sluggish, and his breathing patterns were inconsistent. Most of his words came out incoherent, and much was left unsaid, but Dazai knew what was to be done.

''AUGHHGU..." Pools of blood spewed out, staining his clothes further, his consciousness blacking in and out. "Ugh... I wasn't expecting it to be peaceful anyway... You- know... What to do... So I'll leave it to you..."

Abrupt silence hit, and the ginger's body went limp; embracing a long overdue rest.

The brunette gave his partner a melancholic look, clutching onto the small statured corpse gracefully lumped in his hold.

〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

(I kind of hate how it turned out ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡. Whatever--, moving on with life.

I personally view this as platonic soulmates/Friendship where bonds go deeper than blood/complicated siblings????(Not really), please don't judge me ＼⁠(ﾟ⁠ｰﾟ⁠＼⁠))

#bsd #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #writers on tumblr #saff-ron tag #ao3 writer #what if scenario #dead Nakahara Chuuya #was this too ooc??#i'm dtill trying to understand Osamu and Chūya #I'm still pretty confused on some of their characteristics #especially Osamu #i really wish to get this man one day the way Chūya does #ughh #platonic soulmates #platonic skk

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tetsupeach · 2 years

Text

the contract - pantalone x f!reader smut

summary - in order to save your village, you make a deal with the devil.

cws - yan!pantalone, he’s actually kinda sweet in bed, dom!pantalone, sub character, he fucks you up against a window, sweet petnames, dub con, praise, degradation, riding crop impact play, he cares for you reluctantly. essentially reader trades her freedom to him, fem identifing and fem bodied reader, petplay if you really squint. reader is not a virgin. some yes sir but it’s not crazy sexual yet.

part one | part two | part three

please have an age in your bio and be 18+ before interacting with this fic. reblogs/comments appreciated, and encouraged.

His servants barely look at you, wrapped in your heavy coat and bright red scarf, skin chapped from the icy winds on the mountain. They open doors for you and ignore you when you thank them, one of them takes your scarf and gloves. They’re caked with snow, but they ignore your apologies as well, you catch the way they eye your dress, and you find yourself wishing you’d worn something less warm, but more fashionable.

The castle itself is warm in temperature, while cold in color palette. The stone is dark grey blue, in stark contrast to the bright light of the crackling torches, shackled to the wall. You rub your hands together, willing feeling to return to them as you’re led deeper into the building. You feel the sword at your hip, aware that it looks off, wrong, and far too large for you to carry. It bounces as you move, and the servants offer to take it, but you politely refuse. You stand in an antechamber, with high vaulting ceilings and a huge window that snow whips against. You pace nervously there for a few minutes. On a clearer day, you imagine you might be able to see the whole valley, down to your tiny village, and the towns beyond, represented currently by little smudges of light.

“He’ll see you.” One of them says, bowing his head and opening the heavy dark wood door on the right side of the room, you stride quickly across it, heart thrumming in your chest, aware of the stakes of this simple conversation. The room is an office, with walls of bookshelves, and a globe in the corner. There are huge tapestries of the night sky, constellations and directions carefully mapped out in glistening gold thread against the indigo cloth. The room is long and thin, with a desk at the far end, and a huge arched window behind it. The light from outside is bright and white, and it makes it hard to focus on the man’s facial features. He sits behind the desk, studying some paperwork, dressed entirely in black and dark blue, a pair of glasses low on his nose. He doesn’t give you any greeting, doesn’t agknowledge you as you walk across the stone floor, your footsteps echoing. You stop a few feet from his desk. He clears his throat, lifting his attention from his paperwork.

“Have a seat.” He says, gesturing to the two dark wood leather-backed chairs that are positioned in front of his desk.

“Thank you.” You manage, your voice sounding odd and soft in the large space, as if it’s swallowing it.

“You are here to buy something from me, correct?” He says, setting his pen down on the desk, folding his gloved hands in front of you. You nod. “You’re here for the hypericum perforatum.” He seems nearly cheerful, giving you a smile that sends shivers up your spine. You nod again. “I need to know, first of all, how you found out I have it.” He watches you choose your words carefully, allowing a moment of silence before you speak.

“In order to make the risk of the mountain roads worth it in this season you have to be transporting things of a certain importance or I suppose, ah, value,” your hands move in front of you as you speak, as if you’re carving the snow out of the way of his wagons with your palms, “And there are really only three regularly supplied marketplaces in the region, with shipments that, despite weather conditions are rarely delayed. Those shipments contain basic supplies, to a man like you I’m sure they’re hardly worth making the effort for generally during winter, unless you have other things coming and going throughout the region that you’d like to disguise under the pretense of supplying the local marketplaces so that people don’t starve.” You shrug. “There are three major political players in the region who could be making or using such channels, but out of all of them you’re the most likely.” He raises his eyebrows and adjusts his glasses

“So you hiked up a mountain, in the middle of a blizzard to meet with someone who almost certainly wouldn’t want to see you,” he squints at your outfit, “Wearing that, based on those deductions alone?”

“Ah, no sir.” You touch the back of your neck self-consciously, your eyes flick to the window behind his desk. “I was able to plot the coming and going of your caravans and estimate that yours were likely the ones being used to smuggle goods, given that rarely did the size of the caravan match a delivery. If ever. So I knew it was you who could get it for me.” He leans forward, studying you, still amused, his chin in his palm.

“And what would you like to give me, in return for my healing herbs?” He asks, a little smile on his lips, “Since you’re here, at my mercy after all that hard work.” You squirm uncomfortably.

“People in my village are dying.”

“Yes.” He says, waving that fact away. “I know.”

“It’s a terrible fever,” you say quickly, “You go to bed feeling fine then wake up in the morning far from your body.” He wrinkles his nose.

“I dislike metaphors for death.” He says, and you’re struck by just how little emotion his features telegraph. “I dislike metaphors generally.” You nod, noting the preference. “And I don’t care much for the day-to-day goings on of the local villages, it’s not my problem if people die of some mysterious illness.” He watches you nod. “What have you brought me?” You take the sword from your waist and set it on the desk, the jewels on the hilt sparkle in the low light.

“It was my grandfather’s.” You offer. He takes it, standing, holding it up to the light, running his fingers down the sheath. He hums softly.

“This is quite valuable,” he eyes you, setting it back on the desk, and you’re struck by how large he is when he stands up straight, how broad his shoulders are. “But unfortunately for you, I don’t want it.” He watches you wilt, delights in it, the way your shoulders curve a little inward, and your lips twitch in an attempt to hide your disappointment. “However,” he sits back down, “I am willing to give you what you want, in return for something.” You perk back, how easy, he thinks, how easy it is to move your body, like you’re on marionette strings, using only his words, his favor.

“Anything you want,” you blurt, “Anything at all.” A small smile plays on his lips.

“I will re-introduce this remedy to the trading route,” He says, writing something down quickly on a sheet of paper in front of him, “You cannot have my personal store of it because I need it in case there’s an outbreak in my home, I’m sure you understand.” You swallow, nodding. “And in return,” He pulls a sheet of paper from his desk and slides it over to you. “I want you.” You blink at him, not entirely sure you’d heard.

“Me?”

“Yes.” He takes his glasses off, cleans them, and then looks you up and down again. “I do, I want you. All of you.”

“F-for how long?” You get out, hands doing a nervous little dance in your lap. He shrugs.

“Call it a year.” He taps the paper in front of you. “Can you read?”

“Yes.” You say quickly, skimming the contract. “This is for the sale of goods, though, and I-”

“Here,” he taps the last line, a touch of impatience in his tone, “It makes an allowance for exchange of services. This would be open-ended, of course, as I would like your complete obedience and loyalty for one calendar year. To start.” You look nervous, as he expected, but a smart girl like you had to know that a year’s worth of your labor was certainly worth the lives of those you held so dearly. Perhaps, he considers, a valuable lesson for you about showing your cards too early in a negotiation. He could teach you to be better, though. He watches you decide, eyes on the way you flatten your hands in your lap, on the slope of your cheek, surprising himself with how much he cares what your response will be.

“Where do I sign?” You say after a long moment, and he makes some quick calculations, giving you one last out.

“If I own you it means I can do whatever I want with you, or your body.” The unspoken burns under the surface of your conversation. “You do understand that failure to obey or meet my demands will be followed by swift and appropriate punishment?” You nod, swallowing.

“Yes.” You whisper. He slides the paper across the desk and hands you the quill.

“No need for dramatics. Sign your full name here.” He notes that you do finish reading it before signing the contract, good girl, your hand trembling slightly. He takes it from you then, filing it in a drawer that you hear lock shut with a soft click. “Well,” he stands, smiling at you. “Let’s see what I’ve purchased, hm?” He scribbles something on parchment. “This is the order for the herb. I’ll have it sent out with my other missives before sundown.” He looks back up at you over his glasses. “Strip, please.” You look up at him sharply, surprise on your face. “Let’s try that again,” he says, faux kindness in his voice. “I gave you an order, and you say, yes sir.”

“Yes sir.” You blurt before he even has a chance to speak again and then you feel your face warm. He chuckles, it’s a deep, warm sound.

“Eager to please, are we?” He strides around the desk. “That’ll serve you well. Strip.”

“Yes sir.” You say, and this time you stand, unlacing the side of your robes with trembling hands, laying the fabric on the chair, standing for a moment in your plain white slip dress before pulling it over your head carefully.

“You may leave your stockings on,” his eyes flick to your thighs, where the high wool socks make the plush of your thigh squish around the top, “You’re of no use to me if you catch cold.”

“Yes sir.” You avoid eye contact as you pull your bra over your head, and then step out of your panties, covering yourself with your hands.

“That won’t do.” He murmurs, and he goes over to the bookshelf, leaving you nearly naked standing next to his desk. He takes something long and black down from a shelf and comes back to stand in front of you. He uses the thin, whippy riding crop to push your hands away from your breasts, “Don’t cover yourself.” He says, tone sharp. “I want to see what’s mine.” You nod, and he steps forward, delicately removing his black gloves and rings, and setting them on his desk. “These,” he murmurs, almost to himself, taking your breasts in his hands and massaging them, flicking his thumbs over your nipples as his cool fingers sink into your warm skin. “These are exceptional.” He pinches your nipples and you whimper, he smirks at the sharp expression of emotion. He notices your hands twitch at your sides, glancing down with momentary annoyance. “Behind your back.” He instructs, and you do, reaching for your opposite elbow, folding them behind you. “Good girl,” he says, radiating smugness. He takes you by the shoulders and spins you around, pushing you down over the chair so that your ass is in the air and your feet on the ground while your face pushes against the cushion.

“Oh,” you gasp, rocking onto the balls of your feet and then coming back down, stilling when you feel his palms on your ass, and hear him set the crop on his desk.

“This is nice too,” he murmurs, and it’s odd, to feel appraised in this way. “Let’s see what you can handle.” His hands withdraw and you cover your face, hiding in the chair. Normally, he supposes, he’d make you look at him, thank him, but there would be time for that. He picks the crop off the table, and you have time to hear it whistle through the air before it cracks against your ass. You inhale sharply, but he notices you don’t cry out, and don’t attempt to hide or protect yourself. He rubs the skin for a moment, humming something unintelligible. He draws it back and hits you again, and again, he counts in your head and it takes fifteen lashes before you let out a soft whimper. He stops, you hear him set it on the desk and you don’t dare move, feel him palm your bruised, warm skin.

“C’mere,” he grunts, suddenly the tone of his speech has gone from lilting and posh to something rougher, something more impatient, as he lifts you back up into a standing position and drags you to the window behind his desk, pressing your naked body up against the freezing glass and listening to you hiss with pain at the contact. “Shhh,” he breathes, fumbling with his pants, letting them fall to the floor. Logically, you know no one can see you - you know no one is outside for miles, that the weather is awful, and you’re far, far from civilization. Emotionally, you want to hide your face, there’s a burst of warmth on your cheeks when he pushes your legs apart and pushes one, then two fingers inside you. You whimper loudly and he chuckles. “There she is.” He murmurs, and you feel his breath on your skin, his lips on your neck, on your shoulder. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Good.” You feel him scissor his fingers inside you and you gasp again, back arching as your breath fogs up the glass. “Going to be sweet,” he murmurs, and you feel his cock pressing up against your entrance, “Be a good girl for me, hm?” You open your mouth to respond in the affirmative but suck in a sharp breath instead, shivering as he pushes his length inside you. He moves more slowly and kindly than his demeanor would suggest, hands stilling your hips as he fills you. With a languid moan, he pushes your hips down onto him, and you feel the mushroom head of his cock nudge that bundle of nerves inside you. He deliberately angles you so that you’re fully pressed against the window when he bottoms out inside you, pulling a soft moan from your lips. His hips press against your ass as he stills inside you, the welts from his crop throb gently. “How does it feel?” He asks, his voice breathy, but you can hear it, hear that edge of cockiness. He knows how big he is, that he knows the way you’re struggling to focus on anything that isn’t his hands on your body, his cock buried inside you. He wants to hear the way you struggle to respond.

“I,” you hitch, leaning forward and pressing your face against the freezing glass. “It’s so much,” you whisper, your every breath depositing vapor on the glass next to you, little clouds making your ecstasy physical.

“I know,” he coos, “I know, you’ll get used to it.” He draws back a little and then refills you with a quick movement, “So warm,” he murmurs, setting a gentle pace, allowing your body time to adjust to him. He takes your forearms in one hand and uses it to fuck you just a little harder, letting out a soft hiss. “Anyone could see you right now,” he tightens his grip on your arms, “How does that feel, that anyone could watch me use you?” You mewl softly. “Oh,” he coos, and you feel him get closer to you, feel his breath on your ear, “She doesn’t like that, does she?” You shake your head, trembling, unable to focus on anything that isn’t him, that isn’t his cock nudging your cervix, that isn’t the slap of his hips against your bruised ass.

Your breath fogs up the glass, and then the condensation freezes, forming a delicate crystal structure that blurs in front of you as your eyes burn with tears.

“Oh, she’s crying,” he coos, fucking you harder, “Such a pretty girl, go on, cry for me,” he kisses your cheek, releasing your arms and taking a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back away from the window. “Should I be kind,” he says, “Should I let you cum?” You whine, a soft sad sound. “I like that,” he growls, voice taking on a darker undercurrent, “I don’t wanna hear you speak.” He slams his hips up against yours, burying himself to the hilt inside you with every thrust, “You wanna cum in front of the whole fucking valley,” he spits the words out, “Look down, look out there,” the snow swirls, as the day darkens you can make out the little sparkles of light in the blue twilight, the homes and farms, and small cities preparing for the night. “Go on,” he goads, “Go on, cum on my cock, I can feel you,” he’s interrupted midsentence by his own groan, a short, angry growl, “I can feel how close you are, cum for me.”

“Fuck,” you choke out, and your legs nearly give out from underneath you as you clench down on him, hands flying from around your back to brace yourself against the window as your knees give way and the white-hot pleasure rips through you.

“That’s it,” he coaches, his own thrusting becoming sporadic as he seeks his own high. “Just, just like that.” He groans loudly, and buries his face in your neck as he finishes deep inside you, essentially holding you upright as he cums deep inside you. He carries you back to his desk and then deposits you gently on the floor next to his chair. You shiver in the cool of the air. “Stay there for now,” he says quietly, adjusting his trousers and going back to work. “I want you to stay still and be sweet for me, can you manage that?” You nod on the ground, his cum dribbling out of your pussy onto the stone floor. He works for another few hours while you shiver, eventually, he sighs, standing and taking a throw blanket off of a nearby couch and tucking it around your body. “I suppose,” he murmurs, massaging your scalp softly for a moment before sitting back down, “It will be nice to have some company.”

please have an age in your bio and be 18+ before interacting with this fic. reblogs/comments appreciated, and encouraged.

#re.emme #pantalone x reader #pantalone smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #pantalone x you #pantalone x reader smut #gi smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut

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antianakin · 10 months

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On a silly note, it probably won't happen because recent Star Wars, but I want a whole series about everyday Jedi life. Like an average day in the temple. People's jobs. Episode with itsy baby Jedi doing baby Jedi things. Just a whole anthology series exploring Jedi culture. Because a several thousand year old society is definitely going to have unique cultural things, not to mention how much members are still connected to their birth culture so you can't tell me they don't bring those things in. No high stakes just the Temple life.

I mean. It exists. It just happens to be a pre-schooler show called Young Jedi Adventures, because shows just going through "every day life at home" kind of things are usually aimed at very small children. If you're in a mood for something aimed VERY young, it's on Disney+ to watch.

Anything aimed higher than that is going to need more stakes than just daily slice of life I think. Anything middle grade and above tends to have higher stakes action of some kind, even life or death stakes. Think about how TCW and Rebels are both clearly "kid shows" aimed at like ages 10 and above, but characters are still in life or death situations and can absolutely be hurt or die within the narratives. You could have breather episodes that allow for something more low stakes and light-hearted, but the majority of the show would probably still be higher stakes.

The only other alternative I see is to do something more like Star Wars: Visions or even Tales of the Jedi, where the stories are isolated to one shorter episode and may not have anything to do with each other. However, I still think some of these would need to be higher stakes episodes in order to keep people's attention. Look at how Visions Volume 2 had that one more light-hearted episode about a young pilot dealing with her embarrassing mother, but pretty much every single other episode in Volume 2 was dark and had life or death stakes attached to the narratives. That being said, I do think you could have higher stakes and also explore Jedi culture in a positive way and I would LOVE to see something like that and I will remain forever bitter that that ISN'T what Tales of the Jedi is and it probably never will be.

#star wars #young jedi adventures #jedi

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narrators-journal · 1 year

Text

Peek-a-boo, I see you

Tiktok put a gun to my head and made me aware of Wally Darling, so have a random little fic for him to exorsize this bastard from my brain lol.

The creator is Clown shaped coffin if I remember his name right, and this is entirely non-canon fun. Just enjoy it as a spoopy kind of x reader junk food, and RESPECT THE CREATOR’S BOUNDARIES YOU HEATHENS.

Old tv shows were a mixed bag. Some were cheesy, dated, and full of misinformation, especially old children's educational shows, and some were sketchy and blatantly unacceptable by the modern standard. Which proved to be a fun betting game for you and your friends. So, when you found a box of dusty, sun-yellowed video tapes in your attic that had likely been left by a past resident, relics from the olden days of cable and the first VHS's, You thought a watch party of sorts would make for a fun night for you and your friends. Which, it had been! Even if finding a VHS player in today's modern time was a hassle, Welcome Home was a fun mix of colorful and energetic, simply oozing a charming abundance of cheese for your little group to enjoy. Which, made it all the more enjoyable to commentate over the child-friendly plots and loveable characters. From playing the low-stakes plots far too seriously, to wolf-whistling and making sly jokes about characters like Frank, Poppy, or Eddie, you and your friends had a blast as you watched about half of the first season. Which, was more than enough time for one particular character to wander his way into your heart and make it his home. Wally Darling. Wally Darling was easily a favorite amongst your friend group as soon as it was brought up how long he took to do his hair each morning in one episode. Which, had earned him quite a few playful comments and jabs, while the lot of you watched. Plus, he had been such a sleepy, relaxed character in juxtaposition to the light-hearted energy of Barnaby, or the bubbly extrovertism of Julie, so you found yourself putting the cheesy kids show on even after your party. "Geez Wally, are you only going to paint apples?!" Julie asked the main character on one of the occasions you had the third season playing for white noise during chores. "He could paint something a lot pervier, Julie." You said while folding clothes on your bed. Repeating a joke you had admittedly made more than one time at the episode and still laughing at your own implication as the episode obliviously played. Going through the motions of the bubbly girl dragging the yellow-skinned, blue-pompador'd artist around to find a muse that wasn't his favorite fruit. You, meanwhile, sat and half watched while you folded a towel and mulled over your to-do list for the day until the tape ended and you had to rewind it yet again. "Have you ever wanted to have a chat with your bestest friend, Wally Darling?" The Salesman in the opening ad asked, sounding as if he'd chugged three Monsters before recording the pitch. Showing clips of the aforementioned doll as he continued, "Have you wanted to ask him a question, but didn't know where to send a letter? Just say hello and how much you enjoy the show? Well, fret no more! for 25 cents a minute, you don't need to write him, you can call!" His words making you chuckle. After all, phone services nowadays were almost extinct, if they weren't more aligned with...adults than children. So, hearing the man pitch an outrageous price for a simple phonecall with someone claiming to be a cartoon character to assumedly children, was amusing. Though, to have such a wild price for a call must mean this show was fairly popular. Wonder why I've never heard it mentioned, You mused while the first episode began to play. Only to have a sudden thought pop up in your mind, Wonder if I could call the number still. It was a rash, impulsive thought. The number was almost certainly defunct and abandoned, it was bound to not go through and be a waste of time to try. Which, you knew very well. But, that didn't keep you from digging around in the scattered piles of folded and rumpled clothing until you found your phone half hidden under a stack of bed sheets. After that, dialing the number was a breeze since you'd heard that ad so many times. And, to your surprise, the call even seemed to go through! Just as fast as your curiosity shot up though, you jumped at a sudden, shrill scream of an old phone ringing. Yet, the only phone you had in your home was your cellphone, which was singing out a different chime into your ear. Which, only left one possible source for the sudden ringing in your room. The television. Granted, the phone on tv ringing normally wouldn't have been an issue. Wally was the Elmo of Welcome Home, he obviously got plenty of phone calls from his friends. It was just that...Wally wasn't supposed to have anybody calling him this episode. The episode was all about seeing a day in the life of Wally Darling. From his hour and a half of hair care, to his bedtime routine, the viewer was meant to follow him through the entire time. And, while yes the episode did have a one or two minor conflicts he helped with, they came up while he was out and about. So, by all forms of logic, his phone shouldn't be ringing. "Oh, seems we have a phone call." Wally drawled in his lazy, spacey voice. Pausing his explanation of what he often ate in the morning and what made a balanced diet to head for the land-line he had sitting on it's own little table beside his favorite armchair. However, before he could pick up and maybe speak to you, you smashed 'end call on your phone's screen and watched with no breath in your lungs as Wally's phone went silent as well. Earning a simple, "Oh. I guess they changed their mind. We'll have to be faster next time, neighbor." and a smile from the puppet. That wasn't in the script. The thought kept circling your head, taking over every possible sense with a fresh coat of fear with each lap. That wasn't in the script. Wally never gets a phone call in this episode. He never says that. You didn't know what to do with that information. It wasn't like you could blame a coincidence after all, you'd seen this entire tape from beginning to end more than once, and not a single time had Wally gotten a call this episode, or mentioned one. Yet, there he was. Acting as if your attempted call had been almost expected, and just returning to his script as if you weren't physically shaking like a small dog in a thunderstorm. What do I do? Do I tell my friends? Google it? Get a check-up? You thought, watching Wally go about doing the morning dishes blithely and mention his need to go to the shop for some groceries. Yet, that impulsive voice returned when Wally paused at the door, "Though, let's wait a moment. Just to see if that neighbor calls back." He suggested to the camera, "I'll give it two minutes, after that I really do need to go see Howdy." Yet another change from the script. An invitation, by all accounts. As if Wally somehow knew you were there. Watching him, still holding your phone, and debating trying to call again. I should call my friends. I shouldn't poke at this. The rational side of you said, leave this shit ALONE. Yet, you did neither. Instead of calling one of your friends to get their advice, you hit the redial option and looked back to the screen. Watching the puppet's bright red phone ring again, and the blue-haired...creature, pick up. "You know, neighbor. It's very rude to hang up so abruptly when you were the one to call." He hummed, his spacey, quiet voice drifting into your ear as crisply as if your best friend were speaking. Not only that, but he'd somehow known who had called him despite his land-line having no form of caller id. Wait, why is he- is he SMUG about my calling? You asked yourself, putting a hand to your chest to mindlessly try to slow your racing heartbeat while your brain whirled with panicked thoughts. Was it just a lucky guess that he knew you were calling back? Did he just know? Could he see you? As if to answer your questions, you honed back in on the episode, and sure enough. Wally was simply sitting in his arm chair, smiling and staring at you with large, bottomless voids for pupils. "Hello? Hello~" He sang finally, forcibly grounding you and assuring you that yes. This was reality. "Cat got your tongue, neighbor? Is there something you needed?" he asked, as if it were nothing more than one of the usual calls Julie or Frank might make. Yet, you could still hear the knowing tone laced into his ambling voice. Wally Darling, knew all too well what he was doing. Instantly, you wanted to simply hang up and shut off the tv. You wanted to unplug the thing and chuck it out your window like a frisbee. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to move an inch under that haunting stare of the cartoon character. So, you instead dry swallowed the lump in your throat and squeaked out, "H-hi..." "Oh, there you are." Wally hummed, "Was there something you wanted to talk about? Or did you perhaps need my help with something?" "N-no..." You forced out, barely a whisper through the terror that rooted you to your bed in a shocking state of calm. Adding quietly, "I just...tried this number." "Oh, well I sadly can't stay to chat. I have to go shopping before I forget." He told you innocently, giving you a sweet smile that now seemed sour as he added, "I would love it if you called again at a later date, though. Then, we can have a nice, lengthy chat. Good bye neighbor, I love you." With that, Wally put the phone back in it's cradle and the episode seemed to go back to utter normalcy. Wally going out to shop as if the conversation had never happened. Just, leaving you physically shaking on your bed with your laundry forgotten. And, admittedly, you stayed like that, utterly frozen, until the tape once again reached its end. Only then, you found you could launch yourself at the vhs player to snatch the black rectangle out of it. Quick to slap it back into its yellowing case and gather the other videos. All of a sudden, you could understand exactly why the original owners might have abandoned those seasons in the attic.

#Welcome home #Wally Darling #x reader #creepy #not canon at all #Welcome Home arg

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myreia · 4 months

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It has been an age since I’ve done one of these! So I’m just making up my own thing.

This is the first year I’ve written fanfic since 2019. It’s been really nice returning to something fun and low stakes that doesn’t have the same pressures as my original fiction. Writing for myself is something I lost over the last few years and it’s been so nice getting that back. There’s something really powerful about having your own little blorbo just for yourself and pursuing the things that speak to you.

All of my fanfic this year was FFXIV related and it was so nice sinking into a new world and rummaging around. I love that I get to know Aureia better the more I write her, and her journey is very near and dear to my heart. I haven’t finished anywhere near to all the stories I want to write about her, but she is very clear in my head Aureia’s been through hell, but she’s also my favourite blorbo so I’m not going to apologize for making her suffer.

Overview

Fandoms: 1

Total Fics: 10

Fics Published: 9

Fics Unpublished: 1

Words: 103,788

Highlights

✦ Divergence of the Heart

Rating: Explicit

This is probably my favourite fic I’ve written this year, if not my favourite fic I’ve ever written. I started it in February of this year and finished it in December. It was the multipart that just kept growing. It was supposed to be two chapters, then three, then four, then five, then seven—by the time I wrapped everything up the way I wanted to, it had landed on eleven.

Aureia’s relationships with Aymeric and Thancred have eaten away at my brain for most of this year. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but one of Thancred’s lines in the Heavensward patches fuelled and idea and now I’m here all these months later fully invested in a love triangle that has been way too much fun to write. This fic was an opportunity to explore asexuality in a particular light, so there’s a lot of myself in here. The writing in later chapters is some of the most vulnerable I’ve allowed myself to be lately and I’m very proud of how everything has come together.

I also think “No Greater Calamity Than the WoL’s Love Life” is an excellent use of the AO3 tags and I endeavour to use it more.

✦ Bound by Faith

Rating: Explicit

I love this fic with all my heart. It’s my second favourite thing I’ve written this year and would have been my favourite if I hadn’t finished Divergence of the Heart. I am very enamoured with late game Aureia and Thancred—how much they’ve been through and how many times their relationship has been reset. I like writing them as a little older, a little more mature, a little more grounded. They’ve both been through shit and come out stronger for it, and I needed the get the moment where they are finally together out of my system.

Also writing Thancred and Urianger banter is extremely fun and one of the most enjoyable things about putting this fic together.

✦ To Ash and Ember

Rating: Mature

Listen. I had an unexplainable feral compulsion to write Aureia’s fight with Lahabrea. It wasn’t going to leave me alone until I did. I think this fic set the tone for so much of her characterization and development; this moment—both in the fic and in-game—was character defining and it’s where everything came together.

✦ A Question of Desire

Rating: Explicit

This started as a prompt and then turned into my first FFXIV smut fic. It had been a while since I had written erotica, and it was nice to visit that kind of scene with Aureia and Aymeric. Their dynamic is very soft and sweet (especially in the time period of the late Heavensward patches), and I’m very pleased with how the second part came out—especially with the hint that not everything is all right with their relationship. There are cracks, they just can’t see it yet.

✦ Bitter Frost

Rating: Teen

The transition from ARR into Heavensward is one of the most powerful moments in FFXIV for me, partially due to the attachment Aureia (and me) had to Ul’dah. This fic was a scene in my head almost immediately after playing it. I wanted to spend some time when she was at an absolute low, and develop a bit of her relationship with Alphinaud—and experiment with some ways that black mages may attempt to fend off the cold, because why not. Let a magic girl be magic.

✦ Far from Happenstance

Rating: General

I like this one! I think it was fun revisiting the very early moments of the Ul’dah questlines from Aureia’s perspective. I had a better handle on her voice here; I hadn’t entirely figured out her backstory at this point (she was keeping it a secret from me), but she started to feel like a fully-fleshed out person here.

✦ Sand and Stone

Rating: General

This was my first FFXIV fic! I wrote it shortly after finishing base ARR and I was madly rotating the final fight with Lahabrea in my head (I’ve been ruined by the Worst Ascian since that cutscene and it doesn’t even make sense!! Am I mad (affectionately) about this? YES, OF COURSE I AM. Could have chosen literally any other villain but no, this is where I had to peak.).

This fic established some repeat themes for Aureia, namely her close association with fire and the burns on her back, as well as her close friendship with Thancred and his nickname for her (Aureia was not a fleshed out character until she was Aur, nicknames really do something for me, apparently).

✦ Untitled Post 5.3. Fic

I haven’t published this one yet since I ran out of time to finish it (trying to finish another multipart in the last two weeks of December was not something I needed to add to my plate). But I am excited to work on fics set after Aureia and Thancred get married and dig a little bit deeper into how their relationship changes through marriage. There are still difficulties to be overcome, ways that they test and support each other. I really enjoy writing established relationships, so it’s fun to poke at the evolution of everything that has come before.

A little excerpt since it's not finished yet:

“No,” he murmurs. “I know what you’re doing—and I love you for it, never think that I don’t—but no. In this case… it does not help.” She nods, swallowing the lump in her throat, and exhales a shaky breath. A dozen thoughts rest on the tip of her tongue, a dozen questions she wishes to ask, but she holds herself back. It’s not what he needs right now. “One hundred and eleven,” Thancred says. “That is how many steps it takes to climb the battlements.” She presses her lips together and turns her back on the aetheryte plaza, leaning against the parapet as she gives him her full attention. He glances at her, staring at her through the curtain of hair, and his throat bobs. “I never knew that until today,” he continues. “In all our years here, all the times I have walked these battlements, not once did it occur to me to count the bloody steps. Not once did I imagine a future where it would be a near impossibility to reach them.” His gaze flickers to the aetheryte. “Not my first time being a fool, I suppose. I took my aether for granted once too.” “It’s not an impossibility,” she says firmly. “You dragged yourself up here—” “And I can barely stand. All my efforts and I have nothing to show for it save the reminder that I am…” He trails off, tempering his frustration before he says something he regrets out of spite. “Krile will give me a tongue-lashing for this, I know it. She will say I am pushing too hard. That I am being unkind to myself.” “And maybe you are.” “How can I not? If I must be sequestered off in a dark room and sit on my hands while the others return to their regular duties I will—well. I will…” “What?” He makes a face. “I would say ‘eat Urianger’s hood’, but he’s not exceptionally fond of those anymore, now is he?”

#ffxiv #ffxiv fic #ffxiv fanfiction #fanfic wrapped #ao3 wrapped #aureia malathar #writing tag

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ivanzplaid · 2 years

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hi can you do the grabber x reader where he kidnaps you and the first or second night (he was shirtless...) you decided to bring the plate and tray back upstairs to hand it too him instead you scared the hell out of him, thinking you were escaping causing the plate to slip out of your hands smashing on the ground and he realizes what she was doing and apologize?

awe, i want this to be cute, but it might take a slight turn :) this one is super creative, a responsible reader even in times of unprecedented danger💪💪

also, thank you so much for the requests!! i think I have fouurr in the works?? its been a slower few days since i went to urgent care yesterday, still feeling a bit tired, so im sorry fir the slow days :)

but still, the engagement means so much to me and im grateful for it, ilysm <3 i don't do x fem readers, but I will do The Grabber x Gn Reader for this!!

Warnings: Inferred harm, The Grabber, Slight direct harm, Kidnapped reader

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Your eyes felt staked open, the unfamiliar aura of the room made your hair stick up. It hadn't been long since you were taken, everything was still impacting you from the past days, and even with your captors strange nature, he was staying true to his word, he hadn't hurt you yet. Your interactions were down to him giving you food, and him watching you. You found that when he gave you food, he'd normally return within the hour to take it, which to you was pleasant, you didn't like clutter, thats just not how you preferred things in life. So when the time came, and you saw that the tray of your breakfast still in your space, you felt obliged to do something.

It was obviously in the night now, the light faded from day and left you alone and isolated in your new little home. The door in front if you taunted you, begging you to just deliver the tray up, leave the place you've been grounded unwillingly in. In your mind, you weren't thinking of leaving, that ended up being all the justification you needed. You silently picked up the tray, two hands gripping it just for precaution before you officially stepped onto the cement stairs. Dread accompanied you, along with doubt as you made it to the wooden door, kicking you forward to just get it over with.

The wood seemed so hard to push open, but seeing as you made it this far, you rationalized your feelings, even in times where you knew your fate could end with a push of a door. With a firm tap, the door opened, displaying him. You firstly looked out of both sides of the door frame, your eyes skimming the room, appearing to be the kitchen. The mask uncomfortably stared back at you as you walked towards the man, you could see he was asleep, the eyes behind it were shut soundly, you found that this was the only way he appeared even slightly calm, which made you tense, your nerves starting to make you sweat.

A hand reached out to him, gently tapping his shoulder, with just a small action you felt your heart beating harder in your eardrums. You didn't want to frighten him, just wake him so he could take it, letting you retreat back safely, you preferred unharmed.

The air froze as your hand made contact, the silence became so loud and you braced yourself, like a bomb about to explode. And as soon as your hand made contact, it was like a trigger went off. His eyes shot open, keeping you in place, and swiftly taking your wrist, pulling you down to his level. The anger was evident in his eyes, and from his breathing livelier, a low growl emitting from him. You, obviously, yelled at this reaction. Your face contorting to a fearful and confused mix, giving no time to orally explain yourself, but your dishes did it for you. From the force of his grasp, your soda clinked to the floor, and the plate just barely managing to stay on.

You tried to explain yourself among your panicked breaths, hiccups now starting to consume you, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I- I was just trying to give you- you your dishes back, I promise," . Pleading wasn't your proudest moment, but it did make him pause to look down, which evidently did support you. His hand still latched on you, and his hard eyes glanced from the floor to you, making sense of what was happening. After maybe thirty seconds of silence, he let go of his posture and leaned towards you, bringing you towards him in return. Terror coursed through you, it wasn't your fault it broke, he scared you! But of course, now wasn't the time to argue, you couldn't tell what he was feeling in the moment.

"Listen, thank you for being peachy and bringing my plates back, I truly appreciate it, but next time, stay down there. I don't want to have to hurt you for disobeying me."

A sigh came out after, looking you up and down, the minimal sleep starting to become noticeable. You were frozen in fear from his words, they left a bad taste in your mouth the more they lingered. You noticed that he didn't put the belt down, or back in its place, and he caught on to your gaze faster than you could stop. A smirk appearing on his face as he grunted at you,

"You nervous? Ahah, its for later- don't think about it too much till then, the pain will only feel worse, alright?"

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i didd ittt🙏 again, so sorry for the wait, not feeling 100% better yet, but i am having fun writing these :)

i hope yall r having good days, and as always, thank you for the request <333

#the grabber x reader #the grabber #hot killer #black phone #the grabber x you #queer #slasher

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astarseedpsychic · 2 years

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Pick a Pile

The Divinely Guided message you need to hear right now:

Group 1-

Success is just around the corner and I know you can feel it! You just have to do a little more work. Study your craft more, spend more time on that new business, and continue to discover new things about yourself. There are so many experiences life has for us to explore and it’s important to have an open mind! Stop doubting yourself, it’s like an insult to yourself. How can you say you trust the Universe but you don’t trust yourself? Aren’t you a part of the Universe? So now it’s time to discuss the uselessness of fear. When you put yourself in a fearful state, you are LYING to yourself. You’re telling yourself that there is something you need to be afraid of, but why? Again, don’t you trust the Universe/ Yourself? You are causing your present state to be that of anxiety and depression, when in reality everything is going really well for you right now. I understand that you have been throguh extreme hardships lately, causing the anxiety. I want you to alloow yourself to have peace and accept it with a grateful heart. Do not be afraid of it, you deserve it. Open up your heart to the many activities that you find an interest in and ALLOW yourself to enjoy it without judging yourself so harshly. You’re the hardest on yourself, which served you at some point but it is time to let that go and welcome the version of you that you want to be. This is your key to success (…new car soon…)

Group 2-

Say this out loud with me okay? “I’m proud of myself, I’ve come so far from the person I used to be. I gained so much strength and knowledge on my way to becoming the best version of me. I’m not perfect, and that’s okay. I am grateful to have learned the lessons my past self taught me so that I can apply them to my everyday life. I love who I’m becoming.” You’ve had such a good balance between the highs and lows, and you are tired. Now is time to rest and graciously accept the numerous gifts the Universe is giving you. You deserve it. Be proud of your story, and how far you’ve come. Understand how miraculous you are to have outgrown all of the old habits that no longer serve you. You are one of the very few people who understand how precious their time and energy is. Sit and indulge in your new lifestyle…it’s here to stay. You deserve all of the riches coming your way, in your higher good and in the higher good of everyone else.

Group 3-

Group 3 it’s over with, you can take a breath now. Inhale, exhale. You’ve broken many generational curses at the stake of your own health. You’re the start of an entirely wealthy family line. All of the old cycles are closed, and you did an amazing job. You’re looking back at your past thinking, “how did I survive?”….and the answer is because you are heavily divinely protected. You have a huge spirit army on your side, protecting and guiding you. They are your ancestors, angels, spirit guides, and God. There is nothing that can slow down your spirit and its very noticable. You are vibrating so high that others look to you as a leader. You’re someone everyone wishes to be like someday. Use this as a tool to keep spreading love and light energy, you are changing lives just by using your voice. You are so powerful.

P.c. : Pinterest. Photos are not mine. I do not take credit as the original artist.

Thank you for following @astarseedmystic

-A

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raaorqtpbpdy · 11 months

Text

I'd Do Anything for a Good Night's Sleep

Dick gets turned into a vampire as Nightwing, and everyone, especially Dick himself, is comically inconvenienced by the fact that he has every single weakness any vampire has in any vampire lore. OR In which the Batkids get to fulfill every child's dream of burying their sibling alive, because it turns out... being a vampire sucks.

This is my fic for the @dickgraysonbigbang 2023. I was partnered with the exceptional @jaynotwayne so go check out his art!

[Rated T | Warnings for fanon-leaning characterization, violence, blood (it's a vampire fic, so that's kind of a given), death threats, dark humor, and burying someone alive]

(You can also Read it on AO3)

At least it wasn't raining.

The night was pitch black, the ground still slick from earlier, the clouds hung low, street lamps flickered, and the actual fucking vampire Nightwing and Red Robin were fighting was basically kicking their asses, but at least it wasn't actively raining.

"Where is he?!" Nightwing shouted when their opponent seemingly vanished.

"Right here!" shouted the vampire, and there was barely enough time for the horror to dawn on Nightwing as he realized the creature was right behind him before a pair of fangs pierced right through his suit and into his shoulder. He screamed in agony as a horrible burning sensation bloomed from the wound, spreading through his bloodstream right under his skin.

If he'd been alone, that would have been it for him, but thankfully Red Robin was there with a wooden stake, and he plunged it into the vampire's heart from behind while he was distracted. The vampire let go of Dick, screeching and stumbling as he rapidly turned to ash and blew away in the frigid wind. Dick's legs felt like gelatin, and his vision swam. He could feel himself crumpling to the ground before a pair of arms wrapped around him, gripping him tightly.

"Nightwing!" Red Robin called out, catching his brother before he hit the concrete of the sidewalk. He didn't get a response. "Nightwing!" Still no response. Red Robin hit his comm to call for backup. "Batman! Nightwing and I need a pickup in the Batmobile. We're right across the canal from Slaughter Swamp. Nightwing is hurt, non-responsive. I can't tell how bad it is yet."

"On my way," Batman responded, and Red Robin refocused back on Nightwing who was bleeding sluggishly from the wound in his shoulder.

If only he hadn't been so slow from lack of sleep, Red Robin lamented, he could have stopped the vampire before this happened. If Nightwing pulled through, Red Robin silently swore to himself, he would get a full eight hours of sleep in a row some time in the next week. Nightwing flinched and recoiled when Red Robin tried to check his eyes with a pen-light, but even a negative response was better than none at all.

Minutes later Batman arrived in the Batmobile and helped Red Robin load Nightwing, groaning and convulsing slightly, into the back seat.

"Red Robin, report," he demanded, and Tim explained the situation, how they were fighting a vampire, how he'd bitten Nightwing, how that had given Tim the chance to defeat him. Now, something was wrong with Nightwing, something that didn't seem like just blood loss.

Dawn would break soon.

The sun rose over their drive to the cave, and as it did, Nightwing stopped twitching. His muscles slumped, as if he was falling asleep.

"No," Red Robin muttered, shaking him. "No no no. Come on, wake up! Don't fall asleep now." But no matter what he tried, his brother would not wake. "B, step on it! We need to get him to the cave as soon as possible!"

They picked up speed, all but flying back toward the Batcave. The instant they arrived, almost before the Batmobile had come to a complete stop, Tim dragged Nightwing to the med-bay, checked his vitals, his heart rate, his breathing. They were both slow. Dangerously slow. No matter what any of them tried to resuscitate Nightwing, it made no difference. He wouldn't wake up. His heartbeat became slower and slower, his breathing shallower and shallower.

"He'll be dead by nightfall," Bruce said finally. "There's nothing more we can do."

Bruce wearily retreated up into the manor, unable to face another dying son. Tim, to the internet, desperately searching for a solution, a cure for a condition he couldn't name. As morning turned to evening, and he heard the heart monitor in the med bay finally flatline, he searched instead for funeral homes.

One can only imagine their surprise when, as soon as the sun sank below the horizon, Dick pushed the white sheet off his face and sat up with a yawn, rubbing his chest. He climbed out of the bed in the med-bay and stepped blearily out into the main cave.

"Hey guys," he greeted the three people who were there.

Tim, who was sitting at a desk, working on his laptop jumped almost a foot off his chair. Steph was so distracted by his sudden arrival that she lost her footing mid punch and fell forward, slamming her face into the punching bag. Even Bat-Cow was shocked to see him, keening and clopping around nervously, and nearly trampling Damian in her haste to get away. Damian was rather more concerned with the milk bucket that went skittering across the cave floor, drenching his slacks with fresh milk when she ran deeper into the cave.

"Tt." He stood up from his stool and turned around to complain before the situation dawned on him. "Grayson... you're alive!"

"Yeah but... I'm so..." Dick was blinking rapidly, his muscles twitching, and as they looked him over more closely they could all see that his once blue eyes had turned very red. "I feel..." his eyes flashed, and when he opened his mouth next they saw a set of fangs lengthening and sharpening. "Thirsty!"

He lunged at Damian, who was closest, and sunk his teeth into Damian's neck before the kid even had time to struggle, only to pull away seconds later, yowling and screeching in agony.

"Damian!" the other two shouted at once.

"I'm fine!"

"Steph, secure Dick," Tim commanded. "I'm calling Bruce."

"Roger!" Steph responded. While Dick was still screeching like he'd been poisoned, she sprinted to the armory to grab a Batrope and when she got back, Dick had collapsed onto his knees, making him that much easier to tie up. "Dick secured," she said with a smirk once she'd tied him up nice and tight. "He won't be going anywhere."

"Bruce is on his way," Tim said. "Come on Damian, let's take a look at that bite."

"I told you I am fine," Damian said, turning up his nose and sticking out his chin as if his trans-Atlantic accent didn't make him appear snobbish enough. "I only wish I could say the same for my shirt."

"I know it's a lot to ask from you, but stop being a brat and cooperate for once," Tim snapped. "Dick is like this because he got bit just like that by a vampire yesterday. I have to make sure you're not exhibiting any of the same symptoms or that could be you tomorrow. Now, come on."

"Very well," Damian relented, scowling as he followed Tim to the med-bay for tests.

Whatever the cause for Dick's reaction to Damian's blood, it kept him weak long enough for Bruce to return.

"Bruce! Thank God you're here!" Tim greeted, then dragged Damian out of the med-bay and peeled back the gauze he'd taped down over Damian's neck wound. The skin was an angry red color where Dick had bitten him, and there appeared to be some burns around the mark as well. "Does this look infected to you?" He wouldn't normally ask, but after being awake for over seventy-two hours, he wasn't sure he could entirely trust his own eyes.

"It is not, correct?" Damian said. "I assure you, Drake is being overly cautious."

"He'll be fine," Bruce said. "The burning around the wound means the venom won't take. Where is Dick?"

"Steph's guarding him," Tim answered, pointing toward where they were keeping him. "What's that in your hand?" Bruce lifted it so they could see more clearly what had only been a slight plastic sheen under his cape before. "Blood? What's that for?"

"He was bitten by a vampire last night, and now 'he has red eyes and tried to eat Damian'," Bruce said. "The pieces weren't that difficult to put together."

"Well... yeah, I guess if you put it that way...." Tim said, trailing off and cringing as he realized Bruce had just repeated verbatim the information Tim had given him when he called for help.

"Tim... go get some sleep," Bruce ordered, and there was really no room for argument when Tim was obviously too tired to be of any use on cases if he couldn't even figure out his older brother had been turned into a vampire. He still pouted as he trudged upstairs to his room in the manor.

After their brief exchange, Bruce went to see Dick, still tied up in an alcove and under the watch of Stephanie, who was trying to play I-Spy with him.

"Is it a stalactite?" he heard Dick ask, sounding bored.

"Yeah, it's a stalactite," Stephanie said. "I probably could've picked a better game, given the location. How about truth or dare?"

"I dare you to untie me," Dick said flatly.

"Oh... yeah, I guess that game's not gonna work either."

"Am I interrupting something?" Bruce asked, stepping into view.

He could see the exact moment Dick laid eyes on the blood bag because he started to thrash and struggle, hissing inhumanly as he tried to get to it. The red in his eyes was even more pronounced, almost glowing, the closer Bruce got, until his gloved hand held the bag up to Dick's mouth and let him pierce it with his fangs, draining it in seconds and spitting the plastic bag onto the ground when it was empty.

"Are you ready to answer some questions now?" He did look calmer.

"He was actually pretty much fine until you showed up with that blood," Stephanie told him helpfully. "Well... he was meaner than usual, but I think he was probably just hangry. He was still, like, responsive and aware of everything and stuff."

Bruce grunted. "You can leave now, if you want," he told her.

"Really?" Dick scolded with a scowl. "Not even a thank you?"

"Er... thank you, Stephanie," Bruce added.

"No problem!" she said cheerfully, and started to walk out of the alcove.

"Honestly, B, if you don't start appreciating your people more, they're gonna end up resenting you," Dick said, then struggled pointedly against the ropes. "Now untie me so I can kill them all!"

"I won't be doing that," Bruce refused. "Why did you attack Damian?"

"Because I was thirsty!"

"Why did attacking him cause you harm?"

"His blood is toxic or something. I think it's because he's such a brat all the time. Makes him taste sour and burnt. Blech!"

Bruce continued to interrogate him for hours, trying to get any information he could about the vampire who attacked him, and vampires in general, although Dick didn't know much about either, much to the frustration of them both. Then, partway through telling Bruce once again that he didn't know how much longer the ropes would hold him with his increased strength, he fell suddenly unconscious.

After several attempts to wake him failed, Bruce decided to transfer Dick to somewhere he'd be more comfortable and tied him down on a cot in the cave before heading upstairs to get some sleep and then make arrangements to get a continued blood supply for Dick from a hospital until they discovered a suitable substitute.

After the second day, Dick was finally allowed to walk free under the condition that he not try to hurt or kill anyone, or drink their blood. Dick reluctantly agreed. And once he gave his word, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't break it. He even tried a few times, but it was as if his body wouldn't let him. His body wouldn't let him do a lot of things these days.

Any time he left the manor, even just to wander the grounds, he couldn't come back in unless someone invited him, and even when they did, he always tripped over the threshold, no matter what he did to avoid it. He couldn't go near the kitchen if Alfred was cooking with garlic anymore. If he got anywhere within the vicinity of the door, his body urged him to get away from it. He got the same feeling when he was anywhere in the vicinity of any of the Manor's oaken furniture, or Alfred's rose garden, which was a shame because it was one of the most beautiful places on the grounds.

He'd tried eating with the family exactly once, only to find that any food other than blood might as well have been rotting garbage with the way it made him vomit after eating it. He started avoiding family meals after that, though that didn't stop any of them from inviting him nevertheless.

And speaking of avoiding, all of Damian's pets, as well as Ace, hated Dick with a passion now. Every single one of them freaked out when he was around, even Bat-Cow. The only one that didn't seem bothered by him was Alfred the Cat, whom Dick had become inexplicably afraid of. He knew, obviously, that it was ridiculous to be afraid of a cat. It was harmless. Damian even made sure to trim its claws regularly, but he couldn't help it. Anytime he noticed the cat was around it was like he'd been dosed with fear toxin, and he scrambled to get away from it.

Dick was loath to even think about the absolute nightmare that was using the bathroom. He'd begun instinctively avoiding mirrors, so he'd taken to putting a towel over the bathroom mirror in order to stand in front of the sink, even though he didn't have a reflection anymore. All that to say nothing of the frustration that was washing his hands. It seemed that running water paralyzed any part him it touched, meaning he had to plug up the sink, fill it with water, and wash his hands in the still water before draining it, otherwise he couldn't move his fingers. It was a real pain in the ass.

On the fourth night Dick woke as a vampire, he was informed that, as long as he maintained his promise not to harm anyone, and stayed within sight lines of another vigilante, he would be allowed back out on patrol. However, rather than his usual costume, Batman presented him with an abomination. A glaring, highly reflective yellow had been added to his blue and black color scheme. Stripes of it wrapped around the calves and forearms, and climbed the sides of the upper body, covered the palms of his gloves and soles of his boots.

"I'm not wearing that," Dick said flatly, eyebrow twitching at the sight of the practically glowing yellow bird insignia on the chest.

"You will if you want to get off the grounds and patrol," Batman responded, leaving no room for debate. "Our trust in you is tentative at best at the moment. You will only be allowed to work with us as long as we can see you. The changes to your suit should make it easier for all of us."

"Do you want me to grab the bright yellow cape from my Robin days, too?" he asked sardonically.

"Don't tempt me."

In the end, Batman wouldn't budge, and Dick was already getting cabin fever being stuck on the grounds, so he relented.

With each passing day, the world had been getting louder and brighter. His eyes hurt to look at anything brighter than a candle. He flinched when a plate broke on the opposite end of the massive manor. He could smell the mold in the attic from the Batcave. It was overwhelming at the best of times, but the first time he went out on patrol after being turned, he nearly collapsed from the sensory overload and Cass brought him back to the Batcave. Thankfully he grew accustomed to it fairly quickly and could patrol more easily after that, even though it was stressful.

Too often during patrol he'd say things that he thought were perfectly reasonable, things like, "You could let me bleed Black Mask dry," or, "What if we just killed Killer Moth? Then he wouldn't be a problem." And in response, someone would yell at him, or say something mean. Steph had taken to carrying a spritzer full of holy water to spray at him any time he suggested murder, which was totally uncalled for and it hurt!

He would often be sent back to the cave early, pouting petulantly.

Unfortunately, even in the Batcave he wasn't safe from the annoyances of being a vampire, because the bats in the cave loved him now. They had taken to swarming him whenever he entered, nesting in his hair and hanging off his clothes. He'd brought nearly twelve of them with him back into the manor by accident across five different occasions. Oh! And he was always counting things! For no reason!

Tim had spilled salt at the dinner table the one time Dick had joined them and he'd leapt across the table to count all ninety-seven grains of salt. Why would he do that?! Because he had to. He'd felt like if he didn't count those salt grains he would die or something; it was insane. But knowing that it was insane made no difference. He just had to accept that he wasn't entirely sane now, and that was okay. That would have to be okay.

Everyone noticed how differently he was acting, of course. How could they not? And Dick noticed just how remarkably well they were rolling with the punches.

After three days, every mirror in the manor had either been covered or removed. Damian made sure to keep his pets in another room or otherwise out of sight when Dick was around. Cass and Steph bought him ear-plugs and eight pairs of stylish sunglasses (on Bruce's dime of course), because they'd noticed him struggling with the sensory input. And Tim had spent hours researching vampire lore throughout the week just to understand him better. So there were some silver linings.

The worst part, though, the worst by far, was that despite sleeping every second the sun was in the sky, Dick had been growing increasingly more exhausted. It had gotten to the point where he was starting to see things that weren't there, his brain functions were slowed, his words were slurring. He was practically acting like Tim.

It was as if he hadn't slept in days, but he had! He'd slept all through the days!

On the eleventh day after Dick had been bitten by a vampire, Tim approached him in the Batcave, where they were talking about a case—the details of which, Dick could not retain for the death of him.

"I've figured out why you're so tired even though you've been sleeping every day," he said.

"Which one of you?" Dick asked, blinking at the brother he was seeing in triplicate due to his exhaustion. "What?"

"You know I've been wading through tons and tons of vampire lore, right?" Tim prefaced. "Well I discovered that according to several old sources, but primarily Bram Stoker's recounting of the story of the historical Count Dracula, Vampires have to sleep in the coffin in which they were buried, and over dirt from their grave, or else they won't become rested no matter how much they sleep."

Jason barked a laugh. "Glad it wasn't me then, cause my coffin's toast." His family didn't find it especially funny, and Dick scowled at him.

"Wha's that mean?" Dick asked Tim.

"It means you can't sleep because you don't have a grave."

"So what're we s'posed to do about it?"

"Well, we... we'd have to bury you."

That was met with silence as they all weighed the statement in their minds.

"If that's what must be done, then we'll do it," Bruce said finally.

"I volunteer to help Dickie pick out a coffin!" Jason piped up. "I have the most experience, after all." A chorus of groans followed Jason's tasteless joke.

"Whatever, just go," Barbara said. "You should pick one out before the sun comes up. Cass and Steph can cover your patrols. It's not like Dick's in any condition to go out tonight anyway."

"I resuscitate that remark!" Dick complained, but even he didn't know what he was saying by that point.

"Come on, Golden Boy," Jason gestured for him to follow and went to his motorcycle. "Let's go coffin shopping." Dick followed with a yawn and climbed on the back of Jason's motorcycle, leaning heavily on his little brother's back and almost taking a nap right there despite the roar of the engine as it peeled out of the cave and toward a funeral parlor in the city.

"Here we are!" Dick blinked and tried to regain alertness when the motorcycle pulled to a stop. He looked around, bleary-eyed.

"'S closed," he pointed out.

"Of course it's closed, it's almost eleven PM," Jason scoffed, dismounting his bike and taking off his helmet. "What did we spend all that time learning to pick locks for? Come on."

"Cameras?"

"Fakes," he responded. "They look real enough to deter most thugs, but look. no wires, no light to indicate they're recording, no movement, despite the visible hinge. They're not picking up jack shit to identify us. Hell, even if they were, you can't show up on camera anyway."

"Oh, yeah." Dick yawned again and leaned against one of the porch pillars while Jason picked the lock on the door. A few seconds later it swung open.

"And voila," he said, leading the way inside and finding the light switch. "Come on in! Let's pick you out a nice cozy coffin so you can go beddy bye."

"I mean, I'll be able to sleep in it no matter how comfortable it is," Dick pointed out. "As long as the sun is up, I sleep no matter what." He tripped over the threshold on his way in, and Jason barked a laugh when he almost face-planted on the carpet. Dick scowled at him. "Hey!"

"Sorry, sorry," Jason apologized insincerely. "Still, if you've gotta sleep in a coffin, it might as well be a comfortable one." Jason shrugged and led him into the showroom where the coffins were displayed, flicking on the lights and making Dick flinch before his eyes adjusted. He started opening up lids. "Hey look, this one's lined with silk. Pretty swanky, huh?"

Dick let Jason convince him to climb in and try it out. "'S lined with silk but's really hard," he said, shifting. "And there's a nail poking in my back. Kinda bad construction." He sat up and looked over to see Jason also lying in a coffin.

"This one's pretty comfy," he said. "And it's cushioned." Dick climbed out, and walked over to the one Jason was trying. He ran his fingers against the lining for a second before pulling them away with a grimace. Velvet was a nice texture before, but now that he could feel every individual fiber, not so much. "No?"

"No," Dick said, nodding. "Turns out, velvet is evil now."

"Understandable," Jason nodded and got out. "Let's try some others. I saw one over there with flames airbrushed on the lid which was pretty sick. And I think there's a Batman themed one, too. Maybe they have a Nightwing coffin."

"I think sleeping 'n a Nightwing coffin might be a li'l on the nose."

"Suit yourself," Jason shrugged. "I wonder if they have a Red Hood one."

They spent a long time trying out coffins and no, they didn't find any Red Hood ones, much to Jason's disappointment. Dick naturally avoided any made of oak or alder, unable to even touch them, let alone sleep in them. They found a few that Dick liked, one of which was absolutely hideous, downright garish, even by Dick and Jason's standards, which was why he liked it. In the end, Dick picked a simple, pale blue, solid walnut one with brass handles. The inside was cushioned and lined with navy blue satin.

Jason took a picture of the coffin and the price tag and sent it to Bruce so he'd know which one to buy the next day when the funeral parlor was actually open, and they returned to the Batcave safely before sunrise. There, Dick mostly moped around wishing he could sleep, and entertained Barbara with his sleep-deprived nonsense talk until morning when he passed out in his rolling chair, very nearly falling onto the floor of the cave.

He woke up the following night on the cot in the med-bay, bone tired, and dragged himself up to his feet. The scent of blood made his head pound and his vision turn red. He snatched up the coffee mug on the counter and gulped down the viscous red liquid in a frenzy. He felt a little better after drinking, but no less tired. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve he trudged out of the cave and up the stairs into the manor.

"Hey, look who decided to join the land of the living," Duke greeted when he entered the dining room. His stomach churned and he grimaced at the smell of regular food, but there didn't seem to be any garlic in it tonight, at least.

"Good evening, Dick," Bruce greeted. "I bought your coffin." Steph snorted.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized, stifling giggles. "It's just Duke saying welcome to the land of the living followed immediately by 'I bought your coffin' is just—" she snorted again, and a few others joined her laughter, Dick included, if a little hysterical from his exhaustion.

"Anyway," Bruce said evenly, his voice cutting sternly through the giggles. "We're decreasing patrols tonight so some of us can help dig a grave for you in the family plot. We'll be taking turns patrolling and helping dig a grave to ensure that it will be done and ready for you well before dawn. I've already paid off the groundskeeper to look the other way. Duke and Cass have the first shift as soon as they're done with dinner." Dick just yawned and nodded in response.

A few minutes later found him and Duke headed to the nearby cemetery with shovels over their shoulders to dig him a grave, Cass promising to follow shortly, once she'd finished eating. The walk there passed with amicable small talk. It was the sort of casual, easygoing conversation you'd expect to hear between two young men who were planning to bury one of them alive.

"So where exactly is the family plot?" Duke asked when they got there.

"This way," Dick said, leading the way through the garden of headstones to where the Waynes were always buried. He pointed out a nice little plot next to a grave marker that read Here Lies Jason Todd. "You can bury me next to Jason's headstone of lies." Duke snorted a laugh.

"I don't know what you mean," Duke said, readying his shovel to start digging. "I'm sure Jason comes here all the time to lie." He speared his shovel into the damp soil. There had been a light rain earlier in the day that had left the earth soft and easy to dig in. "I'm pretty sure I've seen him out here yelling stuff like 'I'm secretly Wonder Woman,' and 'I've never killed anyone in my life,' and, I don't know, that his name is John Smith or he's in love with the Joker or something. Laugh already, man, this joke is falling apart on me."

That last bit actually did get a laugh out of Dick.

Their idle talk waned as Dick's responses grew more nonsensical from exhaustion, and he kept getting distracted and losing his train of thought. When Cass arrived, they greeted her cheerfully, and fell into a peaceful sort of silence as shovelful after shovelful of dirt was scooped out of the deepening hole.

Eventually, Duke decided to turn in and wished them goodnight. As the only one of them who worked in the day, he needed to be well-rested by morning. Dick had been seeing less and less of him since becoming a vampire for that same reason, and it had been nice spending time with his newest brother, even if that time was spent literally digging his own grave.

He and Cass continued to dig in silence until Cass flung dirt directly into his face and he spluttered and coughed at the unexpected intrusion. "Cass! What was that for?"

"Help you sleep," she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Gee thanks," he responded flatly, and she laughed at him before flinging another scoop of dirt at him. This time he returned the favor, but she jumped out of the way and laughed some more. "You little—"

It quickly devolved into a dirt fight after that, resulting in more dirt ending up back in the hole than was taken out of it, but it was fun. At least, it was fun until Steph arrived and decided she was on Cass' team—because of course she was; those two were always a team—and Dick ended up halfway buried before his grave had even been dug.

"Enough! I give!" he finally conceded. "Although if I was less exhausted I totally would have slaughtered you two." He hissed as Steph pulled out her spray bottle and spritzed him with holy water again.

"Bad Dick!" she said, spritzing him again as if he was a misbehaving dog. "No death threats!"

"Stop! Uncle! It was just a joke!" he insisted, throwing up his hands in surrender. He wiped the holy water off his burning skin with a muddy sleeve. "You know it's not fair for you guys to gang up on me." He pouted.

"Tough titties," Steph said, and Cass stuck her tongue out. "Now are we here to dig a grave or what?" In the aftermath of the dirt fight, they were basically starting all over again, but that was fine. They had all night, after all. As they dug, Steph happily chattered away while Dick and Cass only occasionally responded.

They were about halfway when Bruce and Kate came for their shift, bringing snacks and water bottles along with them. "Why didn't we think of that?!" Steph asked in exasperation as he snatched a water bottle and chugged down half of it in one go. Cass grabbed a package of trail-mix and a water, having just a little of each before she waved goodbye and she and Steph headed back to the manor to shower off the mud.

Dick wished he could take showers again. The one time he'd tried, Alfred found him frozen in the shower stall and had to reach in to turn off the water so Dick could move again. Stupid running water.

Bruce didn't have much to say as he took up a shovel and started digging in what was probably the tried-and-true most efficient way to dig a grave, because as Batman he had to know those sorts of things for some god-forsaken reason—probably in case one of his kids became a vampire and he had to dig a grave for them in the dead of night, as if that could ever happen. Kate had no problem filling the silence. "So how's being a vampire treating you?" she asked.

They hadn't interacted much since he'd been turned, since she'd been on a solo mission out of town for a while, and he hadn't expected to see her tonight. However, she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to put her favorite nephew six feet under, apparently. Actually, Dick had no idea which of them was her favorite nephew, but he liked to think it was him.

"It sucks," he answered. "I literally can't do anything now. Vampires, turns out, totally wimpy. I can't be around garlic, or eat regular food, or be awake during the day, or take showers because of the dumb, stupid running water. I feel like every day so far I've discovered a new stupid, ridiculous weakness that vampires supposably have, and I'm like, literally how did I ever let that asshole bite me when vampires are this pathetic?"

"It's true," Bruce deadpanned. "He's totally wimpy now." That of course sent Kate into hysterics.

They continued to talk about how much being a vampire sucked until Damian showed up. "Father, sunrise is in one and half hours. Drake and Cassandra are already preparing to transport the casket."

"Right. I'm sure you two can finish up here," Bruce said, climbing out of the unfinished grave and handing his shovel to Damian. Dick was sitting on the grass, too tired to dig anymore, and too uncoordinated in his exhaustion to avoid hitting the others with his shovel.

"We'd probably already be done if we hadn't spent the whole time talking," Kate said lightly.

"Then perhaps it's time you stopped talking," Damian said, jumping into the hole, already a foot and a half deeper than he was tall. They probably should've given him one of the earlier shifts, although it was kind of funny to watch.

"Jason not gonna help out?" Dick asked.

"He said he should get a pass since he went coffin shopping with you," Kate said. "I think the whole 'burying someone' process is starting to get to him, so no one was gonna insist he climb into a grave and start digging."

"Oh... right." Jason had been pretty easygoing through the whole process so far, using the opportunity to crack even more jokes about being undead himself. Dick had all but forgotten about the traumatic memories this was probably bringing up for him. That reminder made the mood a little more somber.

They finished digging in silence.

"I believe it's done," Damian said at length, and no matter how many times he heard it, it was still funny to listen to a modern day kid speak with a transatlantic accent. "The bottom is even, it's certainly deep enough. Father ensured that it would be the correct proportions for the casket. We may return to inform them that everything is prepared."

"And I need to wash all this dirt off me," Dick said. "I don't know if a bath is gonna do it."

Thankfully, Alfred offered to help him shower, knowing the running water would paralyze him, but still water would be ineffectual when he was caked head to toe in slowly drying mud. It should've been painfully awkward. But Alfred was very professional about the whole thing, and Dick was honestly touched that the butler was willing to do that for him.

Once Dick was clean and dry, they all headed back to the graveyard with his coffin hoisted on their shoulders, and when they reached the open grave, they lowered it into the ground. Damian stabbed a sharpened stick into the dirt at the head of the grave as a marker, just in case. The sky was slowly beginning to lighten, but the sun hadn't yet peaked over the horizon.

"Are you ready for this, Master Dick?" Alfred asked, offering a hand to help lower Dick into the hole, into the open casket.

"I'm ready to rest," Dick said.

"Good, 'cause it's almost sunrise." Tim ushered him to move faster, to lay down and close the lid so they could make sure there was a layer of soil over him before the sun had the chance to slip through the cracks. "Sleep well!" he said as the lid fell closed with a heavy thunk. A few moments later, he heard Tim saying something about how someone should say a few words.

"Don't be ridiculous, Drake, he's not dead," Damian scoffed, and a few seconds later, there was a splattered thud of dirt landing on the lid of his casket, then another, then another. Not much later, Dick fell asleep to the sound and smell of shifting earth.

When Dick awoke, it was to darkness. He was in a cold, cramped space, no air, no room to move, and he panicked. Where was he? Why was he there? Had some villain trapped him in a box? Had he been buried alive? It sure fucking felt like he was in a coffin! Frantically, he banged on the lid, pushing uselessly against it.

Dick's breathing came in short, quick breaths, and he knew if he didn't pull himself together he'd run out of air and suffocate in very short order. He held his breath. He counted to ten. He exhaled as slowly as he could. Once he got his breathing under control, he could focus on his situation.

Now that he was calmer, he remembered what was going on, why he was in a coffin. Tim had said that no matter how much Dick slept, he could never feel rested unless he slept in the coffin he'd been buried in. And so, they'd all naturally concluded that they had to get Dick a coffin and bury him in it. It was the only thing to be done.

To Dick's mild frustration, it had actually worked. As much as he disliked the idea, and the practice, of being buried alive—or, not quite alive, but not fully dead, either—he did actually feel rested for the first time in weeks. So well-rested it was a little disorienting. Considering that all of his siblings could be total brats when they wanted to be, Dick was a little concerned that they would leave him in there for a few days. Those concerns were dashed when Dick heard soil already shifting above him as his family dug him out.

A long few minutes later, the lid opened up, and Bruce reached a hand down to help Dick out of his grave.

"We already set aside a few bags of dirt from your grave that you can use in the future," Duke told him while Bruce, Tim, and Steph tried to hoist the coffin itself out. "You know, if you have to stay at a hotel, or a safe house or something. Tim says he's not sure if the dirt by itself will do anything. I figure it's gotta be better than nothing."

"I would agree with you, but my experience so far seems to indicate that these vampire weaknesses are frustratingly specific," Dick responded sardonically. "I doubt it would be as easy as that to get around one."

"Sounds like last night worked, though," Tim pointed out with a grin. "You're sounding more coherent already."

"Oh, it's starting to give!" Steph remarked happily. Not long after that, the three of them had successfully pried the coffin out of the hole. "Victory!" she cheered.

Once the coffin had been successfully removed, they all carried it off in the dark of night toward the manor. When the front door swung wide open, Alfred greeted them with a smile and invited them all inside. Dick tripped over the threshold, as usual, to a chorus of laughter from his siblings. A few days before, he would have griped about it, but after the best sleep he'd had since he first became a vampire, he was in too good a mood.

"I'll fetch you your breakfast," Alfred said to Dick as they all carried the coffin awkwardly up the stairs. Dick couldn't tell who the stifled giggles were coming from, but he suspected it was several people.

Damian opened the door to Dick's old room. It was too dangerous for him to live on his own, so Bruce had all but forced him to move back into the manor where they could make sure he wasn't going to go on a murderous, blood-sucking rampage. Jason was already inside, dumping dirt on Dick's carpet. His bed had been removed sometime during the day.

"Hey, there you are!" Jason said. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up." He put his hands on his hips and whistled as they put the coffin down on top of the dirt he'd spread. "Wow, that thing is disgusting."

It was. The once very nice-looking blue coffin was now covered in dirt and grime. Dick smelled blood and rushed to take the mug away from Alfred, frantically slurping up the sweet red nectar. When the mug was empty, he licked his lips with a satisfied sigh. "I shall ensure that it is cleaned and polished while you're all on your nightly jaunt," Alfred promised.

Now, fed and well-rested, and surrounded by all the people who made those things happen, a stinging sensation hit Dick's eyes and his throat felt tight. Was there something in the blood Alfred had given him? No. He realized that for the first time since he'd been turned, he felt like he might cry.

His family had gone through such lengths, just to make sure Dick could get a good night's sleep, and he was touched beyond words. He sniffed and blinked back the tears. He was a big, scary vampire now, and scary vampires definitely shouldn't be caught crying.

"Something wrong?" Cass asked, because of course she'd noticed, even in the dim light of the candles that had illuminated Dick's room since he moved back to the manor, she saw everything.

"No," he said, his fangs flashing as he smiled at them. "Just... thank you all."

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