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cillivnz · 11 months

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Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!

Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...

I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍

Love your work!!!

façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]

PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER

WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.

A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you’re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,

i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.

Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).

Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.

there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?

"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—

"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.

căprița mea mică : my little doe

cameristă : maid

Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!

𝓗unters.

Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.

Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.

How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.

The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.

'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.

Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.

After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.

Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.

He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.

There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.

You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.

You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.

Your heart sank at the etchings.

Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.

Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.

There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.

But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.

Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".

You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.

"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.

The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.

Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.

No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.

Fuck yeah.

Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.

Fuck, no.

The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.

Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?

You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.

While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.

"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.

His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."

So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.

The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.

As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,

Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.

Hoping to have you with me,

Alcides Dimitrescu.

Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.

You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.

For now.

As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—

Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.

He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?

Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.

Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.

Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.

Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.

The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.

You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.

The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.

"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.

Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.

"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.

"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."

You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.

"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:

"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."

You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.

"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.

You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.

Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.

"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.

To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."

Fair enough.

You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.

Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.

He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.

He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."

He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.

You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.

Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.

This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.

He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.

You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.

So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.

You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.

You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.

The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.

On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.

Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.

You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.

"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.

Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."

"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."

"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."

"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."

That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.

"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."

"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."

You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.

You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.

Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.

Huh.

If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.

When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."

My Lord.

The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.

Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.

The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.

By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.

Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.

You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."

Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.

"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.

Oh, that's it.

You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.

The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.

Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?

"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."

That's it, honey, just let go—

"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"

Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.

As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.

What have you done?

You woke up disgruntled.

Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.

The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.

You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.

As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.

This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.

"No, no, no, no, NO!"

This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.

When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.

You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.

Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.

By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.

Sweet.

You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.

Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?

So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.

You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.

"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."

"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.

"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.

So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.

Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.

You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.

For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.

You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.

Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.

Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.

"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."

You groaned a string of profanities.

It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.

Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.

The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.

You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.

The handwriting.

It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.

How in the hell did— Wait.

'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',

that's where you are right now.

Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.

Or at least that was the plan...

You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.

Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.

A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.

Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.

Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.

You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.

With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"

"You could've just asked, mic vânător."

Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.

"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.

"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.

It's never that fucking easy, is it?

"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.

When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."

"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."

"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."

You couldn't bear it.

Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".

"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.

You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.

The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."

His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.

He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."

Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."

Every second passing by was petrifying.

The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.

The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.

"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.

"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.

With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.

You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.

At your pussy.

You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.

Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.

Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.

"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.

Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.

Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.

"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.

"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.

"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.

Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.

You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.

"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.

Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.

You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.

"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.

He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.

You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.

He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.

His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.

No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.

The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.

When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.

"Alcides, no—"

You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.

You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.

It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.

You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.

When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.

You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.

Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.

"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.

Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.

One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.

After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.

Your mother awaited your letters.

Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 1 month

Text

my heart over yours; part five | j.fleming x reader

prompt: jessie and you finally stop being oblivious idiots. finally getting together.

author notes: this series is finally coming to an end, this feels weird 😭 i had so much fun writing this actually. so enjoy all this fluff as a ty for all the love this series got 🩷

contains: ucla!jessie x reader, childhood bestie!jessie, lesbians that stopped being oblivious, so much fluff, jeff and reader are certified lover girls™, small time jump but i swear it's nothing crazy like they aren't married, chelsea!jessie x reader, covid doesn't fcking exist in this thank god 🙏🏾

credit to @/glimmerofawesome for the gif 😝🙏🏾

masterlist to the previous parts

playing best part by daniel caesar & h.e.r 🎵

"you taste like cheap liquor," is the first thing jessie says when she pulls away. it quickly changes the mood from semi-romantic to playful. you laugh loudly, unable to control your volume with the alcohol still in your system. good thing the party was still going strong and the music was still blasting so loud you're sure that someone could fall down the stairs and nobody would notice.

the canadian doesn't go too far when she pulls away, still holding onto you. partially because she wants to be close to you after everything that happened and also partially because the alcohol was really starting to get to you so you weren't able to stand that well on your own.

"you're supposed to say something way more romantic after a kiss, freckles," you say, moving your hand to cup one side of her face. she leans into your touch, giving you a smug smile. "you still tasted good though."

"gross! that's even less romantic than the last thing you said," you laugh loudly again. stumbling bit but jessie holds onto you so that you don't fall. you pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her waist with your face against her shoulder; suddenly feeling very tired.

"it's not gross, it's true," jessie laughs at your clinginess. drunk you weren't as messy as she thought, it's actually a really cute sight. "let's get you home," the canadian decides against going back through the party. not wanting to deal with having to push her way through a bunch of drunken people and a house that smells of a combination of sweat, alcohol, and cologne & perfume. she pulls you towards the front of the house by going through the small path that goes from the backyard to the front. quick to hold you by the waist with one of her arms, using her free hand to text hallie to come out so you all could go.

in the back of your mind is gabriela. you are sure she is somewhere in the house drunk making out with some girl, not even thinking about you. leaving without saying anything felt wrong but you just remind yourself to text her in the morning. even though you will probably be fighting off a bad hangover.

it takes ten minutes that felt like pure seconds in your drunken haze for hallie to come out. when you see her, you stumble out of jessie's arms and into hallie's. the blonde is a close friend to jessie since they both play for the ucla soccer team, so obviously you are quite close to her as well. it's only natural when jessie and you are that attached.

"hii halls," you giggle as hallie catches you. she giggles right alongside you, pulling you towards the car. jessie is following close behind. "i'm a cough medicine now?" the tall girl gives you a funny look that makes you giggle again. the alcohol was really starting to get to your brain. you don't reply, just smiling at her. once jessie reaches the car she opens the backseat for hallie to lead you into. after that's done, instead of sitting in the passenger seat like she had on the way here, the canadian sits in the backseat with you. claiming she had to make sure you didn't puke all over hallie's seats which wasn't entirely a lie. puking all over the blonde's white seats wouldn't have been a pretty sight, but also jessie just wanted to stay close to you. especially with you being so vulnerable. she has hardly seen you drunk before; only once or twice when jessie would bring beer for you two to try into the dorm.

"this tastes like piss," you would say after the first sips. coughing in a dramatic way to prove your point. then of course like always, jessie would find a way to tease you and say, "how do you know what piss tastes like?" then you two would burst out laughing. pouring the beer down the drain in the bathroom before going out and getting slushies.

jessie is taken out of her reminiscing by you slamming into her side. wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning your head against her shoulder.

"why don't you have a seatbelt on..?" jessie frowns, her eyes glancing down at your waist. you don't answer her. just letting out a soft sigh. the soccer player chuckles before snapping you into the middle seatbelt. the short dress you have put on has been riding up since earlier, but jessie somehow didn't notice. she pulls it down as much as she can; ever a gentle-woman.

the ride isn't long, with jessie and hallie talking quietly so you wouldn't wake up. even though jessie doubts you would awake at anything. she won't tell you, but you did snore a bit. just quiet, light ones. nothing crazy. she'll eventually tease you about later when you don't even expect it, but for now she'll leave you alone.

getting you from the car to the dorm once you three arrived on campus wasn't hard. you were half asleep, so you just let jessie and hallie drag you along; from hallie's parking spot to the dorm building then up the stairs and finally into jessie and yours actual dorm. hallie gently sits you down on jessie's bed before sighing, "that's enough chasing after drunk women for one night. good night."

"good night. hopefully you don't fail your exam in the morning," jessie says, it's more of a tease, as the blonde leaves out of the room. hallie lets out a sarcastic laugh before shaking her head, "whatever. don't let your girl throw up all over your sheets."

the implication of you being her girl, jessie's girl makes the freckled girl blush slightly. shutting the door behind hallie so that the blonde wouldn't tease her about the sight of her slightly redden cheeks. the taller soccer player would tease her about it anyways, knowing how her friend already is, but nevertheless.

jessie turns to focus her attention on you. she walks over to her bed where you're snuggling with her pillow. she lets out a small chuckle at the sight. were you always this cute? jessie decides in her mind that yeah you always been this cute. she just never wanted to admit it.

"y/n.. get up, so you can change," she mumbles softly. leaning in close to look at your sleeping face. the word babe almost slips out of her mouth, but she doesn't know if it's the right time. she's been wanting to call you that for a while now, jessie didn't really get why the urge was so strong but it was, and it has slipped out a few times, but you always just accepted it. teasing her by calling her some overly sweet petname back. you didn't notice the light blush on her cheeks back then or maybe you did and never said anything.

your eyes open but slowly you close them back, shifting so you can get more comfortable. jessie smiles but don't let you go back to sleep so easily. pulling you up until you're sitting up. a pout sits on your lips, "jess.. no.. i'll sleep in this."

"you won't be comfortable and will complain in the morning," she says. you would smile at how she knows you so well, but the sleepiness is really getting to you. "help me..?" you ask softly. the canadian doesn't even flinch at your request; she would always help out alongside your mom whenever you were sick, so she helped you change a few times before. she moves away from you to go over to the dresser, grabbing out one of her t-shirts. coming back over to you.

you're laying down again. jessie just pulls you up again and talks enough that you are now half asleep. sluggishly moving so she can help you take off your heels then your dress and finally slip the t-shirt over your head so that you can put your arms through the arm holes. now you can comfortably lay back down, snuggling up to jessie's pillow again. however you whine at the fact it doesn't have any warmth or a pulse.

"jess... where are you?" the words come out of your mouth. jessie stays silent for a moment, too busy changing after you laid down.

"just making sure you don't wake up with a horrible hangover tomorrow." she finishes with changing quickly. wearing one of your tank tops, having slipped off her pants to leave only her boxers. she grabs a waterbottle off of the dress before coming back over to the bed for you. it's room temperature but it's not like she's going to leave out of the dorm to get you a cold water. it's obvious you want her near you and obviously she's going to listen to you. again she pulls you up, holding you up with her free hand as she sits on the bed. shifting so that your back is resting against her chest. you whine, leaning into her.

"drink something. i bet you only drunk alcohol," she says. opening the bottle before handing it to you.

"not true. i'm a responsible eighteen year old," you say. she chuckles, just nodding even though she doesn't really believe that you weren't just drinking alcohol all night. despite your words you still drink the water. almost dropping it out of tiredness, but jessie keeps your hand steady by holding onto your wrist. once you're done she takes the water from you, puts on the cap, and sets it aside on the window still next to her bed.

when you realize the water is out of your hand you try to lay back down in a quite awkward position as your waist lays on one of jessie's legs. she smiles at your cuteness, deciding to help you out as she moves around slightly so that your back is meeting her front again but this time you two are laying down. her arms hug your waist. the feeling must be comforting because you let out a soft hum of content. then just like that you drift off to sleep.

meanwhile jessie is laying there with her face against the back of your head, thinking.

thinking about what happened out there on that patio earlier. how you confessed, or is more like admitted since everyone else knew all along, your feelings for you. how she confessed her feelings for you. this wasn't nothing new, for jessie, at least.

jessie realized her feelings earlier than you did. around the time you told her that you got accepted into ucla. the fact you would choose the same college as her and upend your entire life to go to a country you have never lived in for jessie (mostly) touched her heart. you have given up soccer, so you weren't going to further your career. you never showed much interest or really any at all in heading to america before jessie said she chose ucla. it was for her.

of course, jessie is not someone who is ego centric. your choice to come to america wasn't entirely for her, but she's sure she played a big part. is it wrong to think this? the soccer player doesn't dwell on whether her thinking is right or wrong, as she slowly drifts off to sleep right alongside your already deep in sleep figure.

an entire week passes before you two talk about what happened. it wasn't like you guys were ignoring it, but life got in the way. your schedule was packed with classes and jessie was splitting her time between classes & the gym so she could stay in shape. you would always come home, exhausted, to an already changed jessie snacking on a huge bag of chips and she would always invite you to join her. with you two falling asleep right after whatever show jessie is watching is over, sometimes before.

it's sunday afternoon when jessie asks you about it. you're in the bathroom, trying to do your hair so you can go out and get some ice cream. she comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. making sure to not put too much weight on your back so that you can continue to do your hair comfortably.

"so.." her hand plays with the bottom of your shirt, "you said you love me. that you're in love with me."

your movements stop for a moment as you meet her eyes through the mirror. then you continue, allowing her to speak on.

"do you want to go on our first date as girlfriends?" jessie asks. hearing the word girlfriend leave her mouth makes you smile. oh yeah, you two technically are dating now. you didn't think about that part when you confessed. "you didn't even say the can i be your girlfriend part though," you tease.

that makes jessie chuckle. she pulls your hands away from your hair to turn you. now she is pressing you against the counter, her front touching yours. you smile, your eyes tracing the freckles scattered across her face.

"look me in my eyes," the soccer player uses her hand to hold onto your chin in a gentle grip. you don't want to look away once you two's eyes meet. you would drown in that gorgeous brown of her iris if you could. "i'm looking," you whisper out into the small space between you two.

"can i be your girlfriend?" she asks, leaning in close so that her lips almost meet yours. almost.

and you giggle. you fucking giggle right against her lips. mostly because your heart feels like it's going to burst and also because you can never take jessie too seriously. she is still your bestfriend at the end of the day after all. now she's also your girlfriend. the feeling of you laughing against her lips makes jessie giggles too. then your laugh is muffled as she closes that small gap and kisses you.

the kiss isn't really sudden, but you giggle even more. smiling so hard into the kiss, your hands scramble to grip onto her shirt. her hands are cupping your face.

and she's pressing and pressing against you and her lips are so soft against yours and she tastes like that stupid strawberry gum she was chewing earlier and she's so warm, so fucking warm you feel like you are burning and you never want this to end to end and dear god.

why haven't you done this before?

you are the first to pull away if you can even call it that when your body feels like it's about to become apart of the sink. your tongue peeks out to lick your lips. you can still taste jessie on your tongue.

the canadian is obviously waiting for some words from you as she just stares at you, panting slightly from all that oxygen is lost while eating your face.

you giggle, leaning in close to peck the tip of her nose.

"yes, you can be my girlfriend. can i be your girlfriend?"

"you can be whatever the fuck you want to me," jessie says. she doesn't add that you can do whatever you want to me too part, but you can feel it's there. you know it's there; because you know jessie like the back of your hand, like the air you breathe, like the studies you spend countless hours on. you know jessie like she's apart of your soul.

she is apart of your soul.

jessie moves away from you to leave out of the bathroom much to your dismay. a pout sits on your lips as you watch her, but you don't chase after her. turning to go back to doing your hair. she comes back into the room after a few minutes, changed into some cargo shorts and a compression shirt that definitely not hers but you don't say anything. your eyes lingering on the way the shirt hugs her body longer than they should.

"so back to that date. let's go right now?" she leans against the doorframe. "right now? i'm not even dressed," you say. of course it's bluff you are going to say yes anyway.

"yeah, yeah. hurry so we can go," jessie smiles at you. it's warm and adorable and you hate yourself for giggling at the cuteness of it. actually, scratch that. you don't hate yourself for that, why wouldn't you find it absolutely adorable?

it takes a little while but you get ready eventually and you two head off to get some ice cream. walking around a park near the ucla campus, just talking and playing around on the swings like the children you really are.

then you two went to a vietnamese restaurant. one you been wanting to go to, but again college was taking up most of your time. the pho was delicious and so was the duck soup, that was jessie's favorite actually. you two filled up on that flavorful food before slowly making your way to the beach.

the sun is setting and you're sure the beach is most likely closed, but you don't really care.

"wanna go for a swim?" jessie asks you as she starts to take off her shorts. you laugh at how quick she is to take them off. "skinny dipping?"

the freckled girl looks at you with a blank look. "no, what. someone could see us," she says. you already know jessie is pretty shy and would definitely not like someone else other than you or her family seeing her with a lack of clothing. she continues to slip off her clothes, leaving her in just her nike pros and sports bra.

you follow suit, it is hot in california after all. taking off your shirt but leaving on your shorts. jessie gives you a questioning look.

"what? i don't have on any boxers or whatever like you do. i would look like i'm running around the beach with no clothes on really," you shrug off her confusion. grabbing onto her hand before running and dragging her along with you to the ocean. she laughs loudly and yelps when the waves first hit her legs.

"why is it cold? this is la!" jessie shouts even though she doesn't need to. there is no one else around and the waves aren't that loud.

"i don't know, but guess what?"

"what..?"

the small smirk on your face makes jessie want to back away from you and run because she can already tell you're about to do something extremely mischievous but she isn't able to when you pull her down with you into the room.

she lets out a really loud shout of surprise before the sound is gone as her body goes under water. you two look at each other underwater, smiling. this scene feels nostalgic. reminds you of those summers when your parents and her parents would go camp by the lake, squished between right after the summer soccer season ended and before school started. you didn't realize how little time that was back then, it felt like forever, but now you do.

the moment elysse was put down for her nap or was too tired to swim, jessie and you would run off a little bit along the lake shore. she would dare you to jump in first, but of course you would refuse, not wanting to go alone so you two would hold hands and jump in together.

back to right now, jessie and you play around in the water for a long while. even though it was pretty cold, as cold as it can be in la.

then you two are laying on the beach and her hand is touching yours and you swear the sand is sticking to your skin and you are freezing but still a smile sits on your face because somehow jessie is still warm. she's always warm.

"i think you're so gorgeous," jessie whispers out into the comfortable silence between you two. you turn your body to look at her fully, she's smiling.

you about to speak but she cuts you off by saying, "wait. i don't think, i know you are so gorgeous. i think you are pretty like the moon with the personality of the sun and if i wasn't already in love with you, i would have fallen in love right now at this moment."

and you don't know what to say to that. curse jessie for being so good with her words; but one thing you do know is how to show your appreciation and so you kiss her. your hands trailing on her half dry half wet body. the mix of the warmth of her skin and the coolness of the sand feels so good under your touch.

you curse the human body for needing to breathe when jessie pulls away.

"i think you're so gorgeous too," you whisper to her and you think you just might marry jessie as she gives you one of those shy grins of hers.

jessie graduates a year before you do. when she walked across the stage, you were probably the loudest in the room alongside her family and yours. the embarrassed blush on her cheeks makes her mother tease endlessly as you all head to dinner to celebrate the end of her college soccer career and just college in general.

"look at you, all grown up," your mother says to jessie outside of the restaurant after you all have eaten. she pecks the freckled face of the canadian, talking more and more about how she watched jessie grow up to be a beautiful young woman. jessie blushes throughout most of it and you fight the urge to tell your mom to stop being so embarrassing, but you let her have this.

after a long conversation with jessie's parents, you and jessie go to get in your car. you wave at your mother as jessie drives off. you're certain the two pairs of parents will be having a great time in la while jessie and you go back to you guys dorm. well, it's more of your dorm now.

"maybe i can go fishing with your dad one of these days, like this summer?" jessie says, giving you a glance. you give her a confused look before giggling, "why would you go fishing?"

"because your dad was talking about it and seemed so interested." she returns your confused look. why were you laughing?

"my dad is 'interested' in a thousand things. you know how indecisive he is."

"ohh. so just like his daughter?"

"jessie!"

the next two days were spent finishing up jessie's packing. she have opted out of the nwsl draft after getting having chelsea knocking at her door and you get it. the thought of long distance this early in your relationship feels like the key to trouble, but you already know you two will be alright. when jessie moved to vancouver in highschool you were devastated, but you lived on and still were so close to her. you can definitely survive this.

"hopefully your little superstar rookie soccer stuff doesn't get in the way of you coming to my graduation next year," you say, taping up the last box filled with jessie's things. she rolls her eyes at you being so over dramatic.

she smiles, coming over to you, "i swear it won't. i'll make the trip."

"promise? if you don't pinky promise then i don't trust it." you hold out your pinky finger. she links hers with yours, shaking your linked fingers for good measure.

she uses that connection to pull you into a hug. then she pecks your lips; once, twice, another, and another. "i would kiss you for how many days we will be apart but we would be here forever," she says.

"hm, when i come over to england then you can give me all the kisses you want," you say back. giving her another peck before pulling away from her to go sit on her now bare mattress. so memories here in this room now just stuffed into a box and ready to be shipped miles away.

jessie follows you, laying beside you. she cuddles up to her but stays silent and you do too. so you two just lay there in comfortable silence. counting down the minutes until you have to drop jessie off at the airport.

and when that time comes, you almost want to cry but you don't. you save that for later when jessie is already on the plane, flying away to her new life that you will join soon. just one more year and you'll be there in england with her. it isn't so bad to spend a year apart; at least that's what you try to tell yourself. jessie was pretty distracting with her cute smile and soothing voice and soft hair and stupidly annoying jokes. is that really a pro of this long distance situation? doesn't seem like it.

you spend the next year working hard on your studies, so you can graduate on time. jessie and you don't get to see each other as much as you want to with her being so busy and you being so busy, but it's okay because you two sit on facetime for half of the day anyways. even with the time difference.

the day she comes back to ucla for your graduation, alongside your parents and hers, you nearly cry. no, you do cry,

because your family is there and jessie's family is there and jessie is there and you feel so surrounded with love that you think you might suffocate. jessie kisses you at the end of the night after showing you the video of her shouting for you as you walked across the stage. "you know i'm proud of you, right?" she whispered against your lips as she held you. "i know," you whispered back. you could see in the way her eyes shined as she stared at you. you could see in how she held you so gently. you could see with how she spoke about you.

yeah, you know jessie is proud of you.

the first time you come to a chelsea game wearing her jersey and screaming her name as she played the best ninety minutes that jessie swears she ever played in her entire life, she becomes certain on one thing;

jessie is going to marry you.

author notes: and that's the end of this series 💔💔 the ending is a little rushed but i love so i hope you guys love it too! i'm going to be writing and posting a lot since summer is close so like keep your eye out for my work. ty for all the support like fr 💗

#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming #woso x reader #woso fluff #woso fanfics

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katz-chow · 5 months

Text

i remember everything...

synopsis: in which johnny deals with the lingering feelings he has with his coworker 🏷| fluff, american!reader, gn!reader, reader is described as having hair long enough to have to towel dry (its like one sentence), mostly in johnny's pov, prompt 29, culture clash, part of @glitterypirateduck's soap it up challenge

masterlist | taking orders | main menu

“Strange words come on out of a grown man’s mouth when his mind’s broke. Pictures and passing time, you only smile like that when you’re drinkin’…”

“Do you like it?” You ask him, as you both sit on your respective beds in the hotel room. The soft glow of the hotel lamps mixed with the pristine, white sheets gave off the allusion of an ethereal heaven. You both untucked the sheets and wrapped them around you and on the bed in your nests of bedding, shielding away from the blasting AC air.

Johnny groans, falling back onto the firm queen-sized mattress. “If I have to hear another Southern accent, I’m gonna blow my brains out. Yours is enough!”

“Bitch!” You scream and laugh as you throw a pillow, aiming for his crotch. A sharp breath stopped itself in his throat as he groaned in discomfort. Another laugh was pulled from you as you too, squirm around in bed.

Eventually, he recovers and sat back up. “Bonnie, you remember when we first went on this world tour of ours?”

A world tour, that’s what you both referred it to. In reality, it was just a guest speaker program on international joint bases. You were there in the UK as an American, part of a joint company operation. Then Kyle pointed you out when you shared some memories in North Carolina together. Hitting it off with Johnny was just pure fate (maybe, he thinks).

The first time he saw you, you and your squadron stood shiny in the unfamiliar dress blues in front of that board meeting. An hour later, he discovered you’re all American service members, here on an ally program.

The second time, fate forced you both together. Chow Hall at dinner time proved to be both bliss and the Thunderdome at the same time– which was no foreign territory for the Americans. They were loud, Johnny thought. The more he heard their wide range of accents, the more intrigued he became with this new group.

He gazed at them, you included, deciding when would be the right time to bud into the conversation. That’s when you spoke up, hinting at the cutest, slowest speech he’s ever heard; a real, Texan accent.

“I dunno about all this, y’all…It kinda looks, like, bland…” You say as you look at the food on your tray. Kyle right over your shoulder with your friends crowding around the “experimental plate”.

Kyle laughed and cut open the pastry with a knife, moving the peas around. The meat inside spilled out of the puff pastry as everyone oo-ed and ah-ed and not in a good way. “You telling me you’ve never had a meat pie?”

“Closest thing would be chicken pot pie…and even with that the peas are inside and I don’t have to look at it when I eat it.” One American laughed. Johnny noted that his accent sounded “standard” compared to your more regional one.

Another woman piped up as she shoved his arm with hers, “Chicken pot pies aren’t all that, Johnson, you’re fucking weird.”

“Cut that shit out, Phillips…I’m gonna…fuck your husband.”

Johnny snickered and interjected himself into the appropriate conversation. “How about you shag me instead? A true Scotsman right here.”

“I mean, if you want…” The Standard American, now he knew as Phillips, responded as he turned towards him and smiled.

He noticed the group of Americans all turned their bodies to include him in their small circle, even when he was about three feet away and on a different table. They were kind and eager, friendly even.

From then on, he decided to always stick around the group of funny Americans, who always seemed to do the weirdest things. He also got to know the mirage of people within this seemingly rag-tag team. From Edward Phillips, the Washingtonian Linguist, Michelle Hernandez, the New Mexican demolitions expert, and then you, the Texan.

After that, he just gravitated towards you, like an asteroid in your presence. He revolved around you, hovering when you need him and jumping in. Never far for you to hold onto, he was right beside you, an equal rather than someone to catch you if you fall or a subordinate waiting upon your every command. You liked that about Johnny, how he’s a partner, and thus on par with you. Your strengths are his weaknesses (reading comprehension) and your weaknesses are his strengths (chemistry).

Johnny often questions whether fate is real or not, must be the Catholic in him, but the critical, logical part of his brain won’t let him fully believe. He wonders if fate is real if there truly is a bigger spirit that predetermines whether or not he will die horrifically in battle, or how many kids he’ll have— if he is allotted more than one. More often than not, however, he finds himself wondering if he somehow made the right choice to speak up with that lewd comment that led to meeting his best friend. Or was it how God had intended it? Or, perhaps, it was the Roman Moirai that had strung your paths together. In either case, he could only hope that he was making the right choice now.

The AC continued to blast in the dim light, something he had to get used to. Months ago, when you were merely just a coworker, he had to adjust to the fact that you were afraid of sleeping in the dark. Teases and playful jabs seemed relentless, night after night as soon as you went to turn on the bathroom light and crept the door closed. But now, as whoever’s above fated it, he quite likes the addition to his nightly routine.

Things are simpler, more clear, and more concise. It’s a lot different building bombs, and awaiting the next mission than simply giving a briefing on demolition safety and code of conduct. One might even say it’s boring, but what’s more boring than your job? At least he’s talking about something interesting! Says the man who eavesdrops on your talk whenever he’s not busy.

Johnny has more time to journal, draw, and…think. It became routine, you getting ready for bed while Johnny props himself up on his pillows, thinking and scribbling away. So here he is, nightstand lamp casting its low, orange glow against his even yellower pages. Odd drawings of the desk chair in front of his bed, some notes about your lecture, and an odd sticky note drawing on your side profile he did while he waited for you to finish your talk.

Never leave a man with his thoughts, one of the lessons he had learned when he started to let his mind wander from station to station, train of thought visiting back on when you caught his eye, or when you fell down the stairs and your nose started to bleed (Johnny had never felt his stomach sink so low), and just last week when you convinced him to try authentic Indian food…he thinks of you.

It's almost as if he no longer even lets his mind wander but now he lets his thoughts loose into Your World. His bonnie. His. Fuck him, He rubbed his face with his palms, exasperated.

“You good?” Your voice snapped him away from his consuming thoughts, hands falling to close his leather-bound journal with a snap.

He looks at you. You had your head tilted, hair falling into the towel that you’re crunching up to dry it. “‘m fine, Birdie.”

Birdie, his songbird. His ears hear the way you scoffed, swinging back into the bathroom to set the towel up and get yourself into the twin bed next to his, the space separated by just a small nightstand holding the phone and now his journal.

You hop onto bed, throwing the already jostled-up sheets onto you as Johnny stands to turn off the light on the opposite wall. Your laptop, which had now been turned off per his request, tucked itself under your bed, barely peeking out just for a reminder for when you both leave the next morning.

“I don’t want to go on base tomorrow. I hate Newport.” You say to break the silence between the both of you, simply sitting in the not-so-dark.

Johnny groans, having heard you say this since the two of you had landed here in Rhode Island. “Oh haud yer wheesht, we’re only here for another day,” he reasons.

You’ve heard that phrase a lot lately, especially as your World Tour is coming to an end soon. Two more bases, a fortnight left. But you can’t blame him, your whining was getting a bit much.

A comfortable silence fills the air again as you hum in reply to him. Both of you find yourselves lost—or leashed in your worlds, thinking about what’s next.

He’s going to miss this; miss waiting for you to get ready for bed, miss listening in on your colloquies, miss the way your body wash smells, miss your awful music…”Fuck, I’m gonna miss you.”

“What?”

Johnny freezes, he takes back about the time you fell: this was when his heart dropped the furthest and fastest it’s ever fallen. Almost like the New Year's ball in New York. Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Johnny, what did you just say?” In his peripheral, he sees your head turn to look at him. he turns his head to you.

He prays that you don’t see the way sweat begins to fall from his skin or hear the quiver in his voice. “I said, I’ll miss you.”

You giggle a bit, letting your head fall back onto the plush headboard, eyes up at the popcorn ceiling. “It’s not like I’m going to die anytime soon, I’ll still be here.”

“I don’t want you to ever leave.” He blurts out quicker than his brain can even pick up. Blood rushes into his ears, he feels his body get hot as he awaits your reaction.

The tension grows thicker, even as the AC hums. He sees your feet under the sheets moving side to side, you’re thinking of how to respond, formulating the perfect response. God, you were perfect, thinking about what you wanted to say rather than just blurting things out like how he is. You’re so different than him, so precise in your doings, always thinking ahead, always planning for the worst outcomes. And not to mention how good of a teacher you are with those in your field, you spoke eloquently, formally– yet just enough casualty that not only demanded respect but provided a sense of comfort.

He looks back over to you quickly, your head still in the same position as before, eyes closed, however. For a quick moment, he sighs in relief, thinking you had fallen asleep from talking and whining too much. But instead, when he snaps back into reality, he sees your face smiling at him.

“I think I’d like that a little too much.” You scrunch up your nose just a bit at the end of your sentence.

He doesn’t know what to make of them, but he smiles back nonetheless. “Yeah?”

You hum again, thinking. Silence washes over the two of you again. You two don’t look at each other, Johnny can feel disappointment wash over him, ready to just retire for the night.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You blurt out, already reaching down to pull your laptop out from under the bed. He looks at you quizzically, but agrees anyway.

To his surprise, however, you find yourself throwing the laptop gently on his bed, shooing him over (which he obeys), and getting under the sheets with him. His heart flutters as he instinctively rests his arm behind you. You scoot closer to him, pulling your laptop onto your lap. But you stop, and his breathing does to match.

“Is this okay?”

Johnny nods and smiles softly at you, seeing your worried expression dissipate. You decide that Johnny gets no say in what the two of you watch, and honestly, Johnny seems more interested in the fact that he can smell your shampoo and feel how soft the tips of your hair are in between his fingertips. He zones out after that, rejoicing in the moment as your breathing steadies his old heart.

You turn your head up to look at him, raising your head slightly from his chest. He looks down at you, an eyebrow raised. “Hm?”

“I’m tired.”

He smiles wider at how your eyes droop down, even after insisting the two of you watch a movie. The screen pauses as he presses the spacebar, timestamp at 23:09. He huffs a laugh. “It’s late, I ken, I ken…”

“Can I sleep here?” You ask, already resting your head on his chest and sinking further into the now-warm sheets. Johnny shifts over a bit, closing your laptop and tossing it carefully over to your empty bed. The strands of your hair lift up a bit as he absent-mindedly messes with them. Your arm found itself hooked under his bicep, the other arm thrown over his chest.

His lips reach down and places a soft kiss on the crown of your head, burying his nose into the inviting smell of almonds and cherries.

You hum in contentment, yet sleepily mumbling out something just a tab bit too quiet for his ears to pick up. “Speak up, Bonnie.”

You whine and his heart skips a beat. He wonders how long this can go on before he dies of cardiac arrest. Hopefully for decades. “It was always going to be you.” You pout, before nuzzling into him again, not once opening your eyes.

Johnny freezes, and the stands of your hair fall from the tips of his fingers. He looks down and sees how your chest rises evenly now, body heavy and warm against his. “Birdie?”

When you don’t respond, he knows you’re dead asleep. He sits there for a while thinking about the choices he made that led him to this position, as a body pillow for you– not that he is complaining. Surely it wasn’t when he tripped over a pinecone in year 5 right? Or when he decided to disobey orders and blow up a base anyway right? No, it has to be much simpler than that– when he had decided to skip lunch that day the two of you met? He thinks about the choices he made, and how he could’ve missed all the signs you gave him showing him that you were also in a state of yearning for him. And why did you turn on a lame rom-com, knowing you were going to fall aslee– oh. Oh.

Was this your plan the entire time? Clever Birdie. Of course, you had planned this out, had planned on turning the AC up, whining about the cold. Leaving your laptop on a movie website already, drying your hair even when you never really do. You just had to find a window of opportunity: him.

It was always going to be the two of you. He was just a bit behind.

masterlist | taking orders

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valkeakuulas · 9 months

Note

Hi there. If you’re so inclined, I’d love to indulge my current Echo/Rex/Fives obsession. One of these would be nice :3

13. ❛ bend over the desk love ❜

18. ❛ do that again, please. ❜

26. ❛ I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it ❜

Thank you

Hahahaa, I actually decided to use two prompts since wasn't able to pick just one. 😂

I haven't really used them in actual dialog, more like taken them as inspirations and set the mood of the fic based on them. Hope you don't mind that. :3

26. ❛I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it ❜/ 18. ❛ do that again, please ❜

Rex groaned, low and deep, when Echo carefully bit his collarbone, teeth worrying the thin strip of skin at the same time as Fives' hands pushed his shirt up, fingers gliding over the muscles.

It would've been loud enough to warrant attention if not for the loud music blasting from the speakers floating around the dim club. As it was, Rex's voice was lost beneath the deep bass and lyrics, sung in a language he didn't know.

Then again, the singer could've been using plain Basic and Rex wouldn't have been able to understand them, not with how fast his brain was melting underneath the wandering hands and clever hot mouths that seemed to be everywhere at once.

Sandwiched between his ARCs, Rex locked his knees in place when Fives' nails scratched the line of hair disappearing into his pants, teasing the waistline, and Echo licked and sucked the bit of skin he had just abused.

Panting, Rex tilted his head back, resting it on Fives’s shoulder as he stared for a moment at the ceiling, lit partially by the flashing strobe lights. It reminded Rex of the fact that they weren’t in the relative safety of the barracks. Instead, they were behind some weird, decorative wall that cut this part of the club from the main area.

The spot was nowhere near inconspicuous; Rex could see beings passing them mere meters away.

He licked his lips and opened his mouth to tell Fives and Echo that they really should relocate but then Echo pushed his thigh between Rex’s, forcing them open. Rex jerked forward, hands flying to grab Echo by the shoulders when the strong leg pressed into his groin, into his half-hard cock.

In the place of words, another deep groan passed from Rex’s lips.

Rex more felt than heard the pleased rumble Fives made and the hands relocated themselves on Rex’s hips. The bastard used his strength to move Rex, making him rock against Echo, while Rex’s other bastard finally stopped using him as his personal chewing toy and captured Rex’s lips into a deep kiss with tongue and teeth.

The friction sent sparks of lust all over Rex, his already elevated heartbeat quickening. He couldn’t stop himself from whimpering against Echo’s lips, clinging onto the strong shoulders and it took embarrassingly little for Rex to start riding Echo’s thigh.

This time Rex could feel the vibrations originating from both of the ARCs chests, pleased with how easily Rex gave in, like he always did when it was just the three of them.

Rex was all but gulping for air when Echo finally released him. He gasped in surprise when Fives pushed him forward, pinning him against Echo. The movement forced Rex higher on the thigh, the feeling of both of their cocks pressing into him making Rex’s toes curl inside his boots.

The two ARCs leaned forward, sharing a messy kiss over Rex’s shoulder.

They looked so good, so beautiful that Rex twisted and fumbled until he could hold onto both of his lovers. He would never tire of watching Echo and Fives kiss, the sight of them together making Rex’s heart swell with emotions so strong it was almost scary.

His admiration came to a halt when one of Echo’s hands squeezed between them, opening the fastenings of Rex’s pants while Fives started to push them down to reveal more skin for them to fondle. The two of them didn’t even pause their making out, their hands never bumping into each other, almost as if there was a mental link between the two.

Once again, Rex knew he should protest this but then Fives’ fingers found his length at the same time as Echo palmed his ass.

And once again, Rex voice was lost underneath the roar of the music.

#Fives #Echo #Captain Rex #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #fanfiction #valkeakuulas writes AKA butchers English grammar #asks #indira-korr #OT3 #clone shipping #askbox writing prompts

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mrhowells · 1 year

Text

Smallville 4x16

*this episode put me through it, also the character building for Lois is perfection (also, if you see any typos just close your eyes, it was late and I was emotional)*

Clark looks so suspicious😭😭 Jonathan too, the way he's eyeing that food lmaooooo

Please😭

"I'm willing to sleep in the barn." "No that's okay, Lois can sleep in the barn." LOL Clark

sass levels through the roof today for him

Look at how proud Lois is listing all of Lucy's achievements😭 She's the best wtf I love her

"Wow, that's impressive. What happened to Lois?"

He has the time of his life dragging her PLS

"You're gonna find that Clark's charm is an acquired taste, much like his sense of fashion." he had that coming

Lois said TRY ME BISH

pls even Lucy is noticing the tension😭

she wasn't playing with that shoulder punch💀

Yeah, Jason is not letting those stones go💀

I really feel for Lana, I feel like she just lives in constant fear bc there's always some weird shit happening around her

Lucy flirting with Clark, just pls no💀

"Lois I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but ever since Lucy came to town you've been grumpier than normal."

I love this whole conversation between them🥹

Also Clark making it so obvious he's an only child from a loving family, bless him

"You might be a little rough around the edges but as far as sisters go, Lucy could do a lot worse." EXACTLY

anyone who has Lois in their life won the lottery, not even an exaggeration she's the absolute best🤷🏻‍♀️

"I guess there was just a part of me that was always jealous she got out and I didn't."

LOIS BBY LET ME HUG YOU LET ME LOVE YOU

the way she's like 'oh fuck I was vulnerable, gotta blast🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️', same Lois, same

Clark looks so worried too😭

this is so wholesome🥹

I think those electric shocks left him with some permanent damage because Jason seems obsessed now👀

Okay let me rephrase, he doesn't just seem obsessed, he's completely unhinged. They fried his brain🤡

Clark is in disappointed dad mode again, he's so natural at it too😭

"You're not mom alright, so stop trying to be." That hurt me personally, goddamn

LMAOOOOO

also, is this the first episode where we see Lex and Lois in the same frame?👀

Lucy you snake

LOIS DON'T YOU EVER SAY OR THINK THAT

To everyone who contributed to her feeling this way, I just want to have a talk

This is breaking my heart, the world doesn't deserve her😭😭

Their dad really failed at parenting HARD

no because this hurts fr, I want to hug her so bad

she deserves to know that she's wanted and loved, SOMEBODY TELL HER

I can't get over the fact that she thinks that her life is less important than that of her sister

Clark defending Lois is something that can be so personal😭 (She deserves a good support system and friends who have her back idc)

I'm getting very emotional about this excuse me

You know I love a character when I need everyone else to love them too. Like I need every other character on this show to appreciate how amazing Lois is.

"I'm a product of my father's breeding. He needed an heir. But your parents chose you out of love."

No because that's so important and I think it explains why both Lex and Lois are so (for the lack of a better word) fascinated with the Kents.

(ok I paused the episode and wrote like 4 paragraphs of character analysis prompted by that quote but idk what to do with them and if they make any sense, maybe I'll make a separate post🤡)

I need you guys to understand how much it means to me that he really cares about Lois😭

Not even in any sort of romantic context, just that someone genuinely cares if she's okay or not because she's obviously never really had someone take care of her😭😭😭

I mean listen, good for Lionel that he's not an absolute monster anymore but he really needs to stay out of Lex's business💀💀

WAIT A MINUTE HOLD ON.

HOLD ONNNNNN

Did Lana vandalize her own apartment? Or did she just hide the stone and whoever searched for it didn't find it? In any case she's learning how to play the game, good for her😌😌

Okay, first of all: More reasons to love Lois, she's self-aware and she can admit when she's wrong about something. Seriously I love her.

Second: Again, they way she's ready to be kicked out of the farm for something that wasn't even her fault??? MR. SAM LANE, SAMMY, GENERAL LANE, I'D LIKE TO HAVE SOME WORDS WITH YOU. Seriously though, this speaks volumes about how she grew up and it breaks my heart.

Third: The way she tries to be so casual and 'Lois' when she says it, I have very similar defense mechanisms and again, it hurts my heart.

"Yeah... actually I came here to tell you we have food in the oven if you're hungry."

Lois learning what unconditional love looks like through the Kent family is the only thing that matters to me, actually

"You know, all these years I thought I had my sister pegged but... in reality? She's a complete stranger to me." "Even if that were true, I think that if she called you tomorrow you'd be there in a second to help her."

I CAN'T DO THIS RIGHT NOW, HE DOES KNOW HER😭

SHE KNOWS HIM TOO😭😭

"I guess that explains why we're friends." "Oh, we're friends now?" "Well, I mean, I won't tell anyone if you don't."

Yes you are and I'm so glad bc you're the most amazing people to ever exist😭

Clark deserves someone like Lois in his life and Lois deserves someone like Clark in her life, yes I'm on the verge of tears AND WHAT ABOUT IT

CHEMISTRYYYYY

shoulder punch my beloved🥹

CHEMISTRYYYYYY

do you think these people knew they just created perfection?😭

🎶now it all begins🎶

written in the stars and all that, I love my OTP

More importantly though, I love Lois Lane she's everything and she deserves all the love in the world.

#ellie's smallville thoughts #smallville #4x16 #lois lane #clark kent #clois #lex luthor #lana lang #lucy lane

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usercupid · 2 years

Text

party girl

elliot x reader

short blurb cause i’m not writing a part 2 to wishful thinking unless i think it’s good and as of rn, i don’t think it’s allat lmfao

also i wrote this in like an hour and 30 minutes just to get smth quick out bc ive noticed lack of elliot x reader so now i have to take matters into my own hands

prompt: “how about a kiss before i go”

1.6K words

you’d wish it was like this every night. the music blasting so loud to the point where you can only hear the bass, the sweaty bodies dancing in the middle of the room, and you and your best friends doing shots for the 3rd time tonight. everything was perfect.

you’d been bored out of your mind for the past few weeks so maddy wanted to invite you out. she hoped this night would lift your spirits again. you had told her all you really wanted was a bit of excitement in your life and you needed something to help and so far, this night was making you forget about how miserable you’ve been feeling for a while.

“(y/n), i’m goin to the bathroom to fix my makeup! don’t go too far, ‘kay?” maddy yelled to you as she finished pouring your drink.

“yeah okay, i got it! i’ll tell cassie if i’m going anywhere” you yelled back after you took a sip of your drink.

“alright!” maddy shouted her reply as she squished through everyone on the dance floor. her stunning black dress made her stand out from the crowd and you were debating if you should go in the bathroom with her until someone came up to you.

“hey (y/n)! it feels like i haven’t seen you like…forever!” kat exclaimed as she wrapped you into a bear hug.

“oh my god, wassup kat! i didn’t even know you were here!” you exclaimed, “how have you been?”

“huh? can you repeat that..”

“i said, how have you been!” you yelled, leaning in closer to kat.

“i still can’t hear- actually, let’s go somewhere more quiet. i wanna catch up with you some more!” kat yelled as she started pouring herself a cup of hennessy with cranberry juice.

“alright, lemme just tell cassie where im at..- wait where did she go???”

“i dunno, but last last i saw her, she was walking in the bathroom. she’s probably shittin her brains out right now.” bb chimed in as she took a puff from her vape.

“i thought nate was in there?” you questioned, but shrugged the weird coincidence off after no less than 2 seconds of thinking about it.“well, if you see maddy, tell her i went with kat to the backyard, ‘kay?”

kat started to drag you through the dance floor and into the backyard. after a grueling minute and a half of pushing through sticky, sweaty teenagers, you both finally reached the quietest part of the yard so you and kat could sit down and catch each other up on what the actual fuck was happening in your lives.

after about 25 minutes of talking, drinking, and smoking, you decided to get up and start looking for maddy again, but it felt like the house became even more cramped and you quickly got lost

it was a lot like you being in a mirror maze. you were pretty tipsy and the crowded house didn’t make you feel any better. to escape the crowds and noise, you walked down the steps to a basement.

you started knocking and opening random doors until you opened one that revealed a very peculiar person.

“maddy? you in here- oh shit, sorry.” you said as you realized that there was a boy in there, getting ready to snort something.

“nonono, don’t be sorry, i wasn’t doing anything soo…” the boy croaked as he shifted his position on the washing machine to a less suspicious one. albeit, it made him look even more weird.

“mkay… whatever you say.” you leered as you slowly started backing away from the door

“yeah, it is whatever i say. cause i am telling the truth.” he dryly uttered

“you cannot be lying to me when i saw you getting ready to sniff somethin’. it’s cool though, im not a party pisser.” you sneered as you opened the door wider to get a better look at the weirdo who you were speaking to. the only thing is, you didn’t expect to see someone like him. his dazed, heavy-lidded eyes were a calm shade of brown, strands of his curly, dyed hair were stuck to parts of his forehead due to the sweat, and the cute apple tattoo under his eye all made your face heat up and your head feel lighter than it already did.

“are you just gonna keep staring at me or..” he questioned as he started looking around.

“i wasn’t staring?” you denied as you walked further into the room.

“yeah you were.” he persisted.

“was not”

“was too”

“i wasn’t! i don’t know know why you’re lying”

“i don’t ever lie”

“oh so you saying you saying that you weren’t doing drugs in here earlier isn’t a lie?”

“touché.” he said as moved away from the machine “so would you like to stay in here and keep me company or are you still looking for your friend?”

“i’m pretty bored so i might as well stay. besides, maddy can handle herself for a few more minutes. what’s your name?” you asked as you took a seat on the floor next to him

“elliot.” he replied as he got back to whatever drug he was doing.

“mm, you look like an elliot” you said as your speech started slurring.

“are you drunk?” he questioned as he turned around to look you in your eyes. he saw your captivating (e/c) eyes and ruffled hair. you looked absolutely breathtaking.

“yeah just a lil bit, the patron is coming back to me and i can’t tell how bad my hangover’s gonna be tomorrow. i’m also just the teeniest tiniest bit high if that counts for anything.” you rambled as you started to pick the dirt from under your painted acrylic nails.

“okay well before you can change the topic, can you tell me your name?”

“(y/n). and i am not that drunk! i am perfectly fine!” you stuttered, shifting in your spot on the floor

“that’s a real pretty name.” elliot complimented as he observed you for a 100th time tonight.

your face immediately heated up. not only was this boy cute but he was charming too. lord, you hoped you didn’t get too wasted to forget and ask him for his number

you both spent an hour and a half talking to each other about the most random shit imaginable until nothing you said started to made any sense to elliot. but even though he couldn’t understand a word coming out your mouth, he still listened to you blabber about how wyoming wasn’t a real state for 10 minutes straight. he genuinely believed you would’ve gone on and on about this if your phone hadn’t rang when it did.

19 missed calls from ; madz 🪐

13 missed calls from ; kitty kat 🐈‍⬛

madz🪐: bitch wya

madz🪐: pick up the phone

madz🪐: u getting dick or smth? pick up the phone dummyyy

kitty kat 🐈‍⬛: maddy is thinking ab leaving, you wanna leave w/ us?

kitty kat 🐈‍⬛: omg pick up

kitty kat 🐈‍⬛: how do you get lost in this tiny ass house

“shit, my friends are calling me. i gotta go” you said as you grabbed your purse and fixed your dress

“mm do you really have to go?” elliot asked, tilting his head up at you

“yes, i do. my only ride home is about to leave” you sighed

“i can take you home.”

“a drug addict offering to take me home sounds like a wonderful idea.” you mused, grabbing your bag.

“okay, okay. i get it, you gotta leave” he said, slouching further onto the floor

“thank you, now if you’ll excuse me-“

“before you leave-“ elliot started, “can i get a kiss before you go”

you stood there stuck. it felt as if your brain just malfunctioned and gave out. your mouth felt dry, your legs almost gave out from under you. he couldn’t be serious.

you immediately started laughing. he had to be joking. nobody could be that bold, that cute, and that stupid

elliot stood up as he stared at you with smirk on his face, waiting for you to come towards him

“oh, you’re serious?” you asked, stopping your laughter

you walked closer to him, staring at his face. you were speechless, no words would come out your mouth no matter how hard you thought. you felt your face get hot and your breathing was labored. you didn’t have to kiss him, but you wanted to.

you stared him in the eyes for a few seconds before standing on your toes to whisper in his ear “it isn’t very polite to ask ladies you've just met for a kiss, lover boy. maybe another time?” you then wrapped your hand around his torso to take his phone out of his back pocket to write your number in his notes app.

“call me, ‘mkay?” you smirked as you left the room, leaving the curly head boy alone with his thoughts. after about 30 seconds of replaying the scene that just happened, he finally shook his head and picked up his phone to save your number in it.

elliot thought you’d be easy. just a one night stand. he couldn’t deny how beautiful you were and how he thought to himself that he should try and keep you in his life for a while but ultimately decided against it. he expected you to mindlessly kiss him and when tomorrow would arrive, he’d invite you over, you guys would fuck, and then never think of each other again.

as you were in the car with maddy and kat, you had hoped he’d end up calling you tomorrow. even thought you wanted to kiss him more than you’ve wanted anything else in your entire life, you wanted to keep him hooked, too. i mean, what’s the fun in immediately giving him what he wants? you wanted fun and this is the exact excitement you were looking for.

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nothinggathers · 7 months

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Final Chapter of my Hankcon Bingo prompt fic, featuring fucking.

My thanks to the @hankcon-bingo mods for the event, it's been a blast.

Square: A3 Friends to Lovers

Title: Only Fools Rush In

Rating: Explicit (for future chapter)

Word Count: 17544

Ship(s): Hank Anderson/Connor

Warnings: N/A

Additional Tags: Crack treated seriously, totally platonic date, will they/won't they, of course they will

Summary:

It's been eight months since the revolution, and the work continues on securing android rights across America. Things in Detroit are starting to get back to normal, for a given definition of normal... And Hank and Connor have still not hooked up, despite Tina's insistence that they will.

“So,” Hank stumbled, feeling like he was twenty one again and awkwardly speaking to a girl he liked, “you wanna come back to my place?” Connor's inscrutable smile rose with his eyes as he looked sidelong at Hank. “We can watch a film?” Hank's hand went to his hair, combing it back self consciously.

“Sure,” Connor replied, as if the whole situation wasn't weird to him. He didn't have a heart to be sent fluttering like Hank's was. He didn't have a bellyful of stupidly expensive food churning away inside him.

“Look, I--” Hank began, and stopped himself. He didn't know what Connor wanted out of this, but asking him felt too brazen. “Did you have a good time?” he asked, as the auto-taxi pulled up and its door opened for them.

Connor leaned in, his hand settling around Hank's upper arm in a deceptively gentle grip. For one heartstopping moment Hank thought Connor was going to kiss him. He stopped with his mouth turned towards Hank's ear, his voice low and intimate as he said, “Yes, Hank, the company was everything I hoped for.”

In the next stilted breath Connor had slipped away, folding himself into the taxi. Hank's brain valiantly tried to send messages to the rest of his body and process what had just happened.

#my fic #my writing #dbh #dbh fic #hankcon #friends to lovers

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esters-notepad · 1 month

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It may not always be obvious on the outside, but the inside of my head is a weird place. Somehow, my brain attached itself to the idea of combining the @chrumblr-whumblr challenge with Johnny Cash songs, and wouldn't let go until I made a list. Half of the songs are from American IV, the other half from a collection of greatest hits. If somebody wants the list, drop me a comment and I'll post it!

No guarantees that I'll write all through May. In fact, no guarantees that I write anything more about this at all. But I did write something for the first prompt: blindfolding.

Jenkins tried to breathe slowly. The rough sack over his head trapped the heat and damp like crazy. As if this blasted jungle wasn't hot and humid enough in the first place! His hands were going numb from the too tight handcuffs around his wrists, and the stones on the ground dug painfully into his knees and shins. The one silver lining of the day, Jenkins thought wryly to himself, was that the Koreans didn't seem to know that Susan was a girl's name. They'd taken down his rank and full name without so much as a twitch. Not at all like the first time he'd been taken prisoner of war, by the Germans back in 1944. They thought he was from the WAC at first. Then, after an intrusive medical examination established his maleness beyond a doubt, they'd scheduled him for execution in the morning, as a sexual degenerate. Thankfully, he'd been rescued that same night. Jenkins shook his head, trying to put the memories from his mind. Apart from that horrible day in Normandie, Pa's little scheme had prepared him well for a life in the Army. Everywhere he came, there was speculation about what the S meant, of course: Stan? Sam? Steve, perhaps? Jenkins never told anybody, but it always came out anyway. Sometimes he'd have to bust a few heads over it, but usually it stayed at good-natured ribbing. He was a good soldier, and people appreciated that.

Jungle animals cried out to each other. Somewhere in the middle distance, a motor vehicle drove away. The Koreans talked with each other, softly enough that Jenkins couldn't have heard what they were talking about even if he'd understood the language. Jenkins shifted his knees, trying to find a softer spot. He idly wondered what his old Pa could be doing right now. He had to be getting on in years, just like Ma. He'd gotten a Christmas card from him once, the year after their big showdown. Jenkins never replied, could never think of anything to say, and so there weren't any more cards. Did the old man even know that his son had gotten married? Maybe Ma had told him. Jenkins couldn't help himself. When he thought of Milly and Ma in their little cottage at the edge of town, he broke out in a proud grin beneath the sack. The two most wonderful women in the world, caring for each other in his absence. And ever since his last leave, Milly was expecting. She knew, of course, that he had no intention of putting his own sons through the same hell he'd grown up in, even though it had worked out all right for him in the end. So when she wrote to tell him the good news, she wrote "I know that if it's a boy, you want to name him Bill after my father. But what if it's a girl? Then can we name it Sue after you?" I love you, Milly, Jenkins thought. Dear God, I love her so much. Keep her safe - keep the baby safe - please keep me safe, and let me come back home and meet the baby and provide for them. Thank you, Jesus. Amen.

#chrumblr-wumblr #blindfolding #a boy named sue #ester writes

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cantsaythetword · 2 years

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TickleTober Day 5: Sweet

~A/N - Day 5 brings more heartstopper! Told you there'd be a lot of these boys.

For tickletober, maybe number 5, Sweet, with Nick and Charlie? This prompt just makes me think of Nick’s incredible baking skills so possibly something around baking?

Ngl I actually am really proud of this one I think it's super cute (though it's pretty short). I hope you guys like it too!

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link || TickleTober 2022 Masterpost Link

The kitchen was a mess.

Flour covered the countertops and sprinkled the floor like a white carpet of snow. Measuring bowls, spoons, cups, and jugs were stacked precariously on top of each other where they had been cast aside after a few uses. Chocolate chips were everywhere and in the middle of the chaos sat a very satisfied Nick.

"What are you making?" Charlie smiled at his boyfriend, swiping some weirdly-coloured batter from the edge of a used mixing bowl and tasting it hungrily.

"Char!" Nick playfully elbowed the boy. "I'm not done with that!"

The little thief rolled his eyes, turning and squatting down to look inside the hot oven at whatever sweet treats were being baked.

"I've got pumpkin spice cookies in there right now," Nick listed, "marshmallow brains cooling in the fridge, and I'm in the middle of making chocolate chip swampcakes right now."

"That explains the green then." Charlie took another fingerfull, eyeing it suspiciously before licking it off. "Tasty though."

"No more stealing!"

Charlie laughed evilly, snatching a handful of chocolate chips from the scale and scoffing them.

"I measured those!" Nick grabbed the remaining bowl of them and held it close to his chest. "These sweets are for the cakes!"

"You don't need all of them!" Charlie teased, trying to swiftly pinch some more as Nick dodged his attempts.

"Stop ihit Char!" Nick tried to groan, but it came out as more of a chuckle.

"Make me, baker's man!"

"Right!" Nick practically threw down his chocolate chips and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

Charlie broke out of his grasp, knowing exactly what was coming, and ran through the hallway towards the living room. A baking-ingredients-covered Nick was hot on his heels, until Charlie took a sharp turn next to the couch.

What happened next was purely thanks to Nick's rugby skills. He let one hand shoot out across Charlie's waistline and half-spun him to the floor. With Charlie in a weird stretched-out fetal position Nick was in the perfect spot to dig into his hips and make the boy squeal.

"NIHIHIHICK!" Charlie writhed under the weight of his boyfriend, one hand pushing one attacking limb away while the other tried to push him up off the floor to run once again.

"I've got to complete my final treat Char!" Nick grinned. "A recipe for sweet giggles!"

"NOHOHOHOHO!" The poor lad laughed, curling up as best he could to protect the most vulnerable (and sensitive areas).

"This recipe calls for one helping of ticklish hip bones," Nick began, squeezing into his boyfriend's waist as he spoke.

"STAHAHAHAP!"

"24 ribs, with just a few pinches of seasoning!" His hands climbed up Charlie's sides, pinching at each bone.

"NIHIHIHICK PLEHEHEASE!"

"Two scoops of sensitive armpits!"

Charlie was dying. This godforsaken mood that Nick had got himself into was unbearable, and there was no escape until he was through.

"And, last but not least..." Nick leaned closer to Charlie's burning face, "Raspberries."

"NO NO NO NIHIHICK!" Charlie screamed as Nick let out one of the loudest and tickliest raspberries Charlie had ever been the recipient of. The rippling blast sent shockwaves of tingling sensations shooting down his back and legs.

"Bake at 170 degrees, which seems to be just the temperature of your blushing cheeks." He winked. "And serve!"

Finally Charlie was given a reprieve, as Nick sat back to enjoy his work. He beamed at his adorable boyfriend, giving him a kiss.

"And that is the sweetest treat I could ever make."

#fic #mine #TickleTober2022 #TickleTober Day 5

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starlight-write · 1 year

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🔥🧠Welcome to Braindump Central™🧠🔥

❤️ Welcome to my own personal Hell! ❤️ Here is where I store all my weird thoughts and writing projects that would have my neurodivergent ass shunned by my friends and family if revealed to the real world.

Originally, this blog was meant solely for writing tk fics (tw btw!). And while that is still our primary focus here, you can also find some regular-ass fanfics on my AO3 account, (which will be revealed soon enough) as well as sleep deprived ramblings, a shit ton of reblogs, and all sorts of other nonsensical shit.

The current annual hyperfixation that haunts my every waking moment is Hazbin Hotel, if that wasn't already obvious enough. So most of what I write will revolve around that.

Other fandoms I will write for are My Hero Academia, The Amazing Digital Circus, and The Owl House. (I live under a rock and don't know much else.)

Requests are Open and here are The Rules™!!!!

1.) Story Prompts, Character Headcannons, Character Pairings and similar ideas are all free game. (Also if you just want to talk, please I'm so lonely.)

1.5.) Requests aren't limited to fandom or tk fics! I love a good challenge so if you got a good prompt you wanna hit me with, I'm all ears!

2.) Obviously, I reserve the right to deny any requests if I can't vibe with it but don't think that means I appreciate your inputs any less!

3.) I will not write anything NSFW. (Dude, there are children here!)

4.) Requests will NOT be answered in a timely manner as I have the time management skills of a narcoleptic seahorse and run off of hyperfixation and spite alone.

5.) I'm not comfortable writing anyone's OCs for fandom fics, sorry.

6.) Keep it silly. Keep it fun. Don't be an asshole.

About the Author: (over sharing)

Here's some personal details about me that I feel like have a significant affect on my perception of reality and therefore my writing as a whole.

First things first, my irl pronouns are she/her. But let's be real, we're on Tumblr so call me whatever you want. Get creative with it.

I'm a 21y/o software engineering student diagnosed ADHD. (I keep praying to God but he's not answering) But y'know, that double homicide clearly wasn't enough and I got nerfed with a chaotic and relatively unstable living situation so if I go ghost for a hot minute that's probably why.

I identify myself as a sapphic-oriented AroAce abomination who ironically, is in a happy relationship with a man... (It was an accident I swear!) I'm just as confused as you are don't worry. So needless to say the pairings I write are going to be affected by that aroace lens but hey, if you're like me and enjoy exploring platonic dynamics a lot more then you've come to the right place!

Your girl also has a condition known as Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder (MaDD), as if my pea-brain wasn't screwed enough already. Pretty self explanatory, basically means I have this dumbass condition where I have to disassociate into my fantasy worlds for hours and hours on end instead of actually contributing to society. Fun, right? I mention this not only to spread a little awareness but also to *cite my sources* in a way. Pretty sure it's forced me to become a better writer in a way, too. So it's not all bad ig.

If you want any more personal information out of me you either gotta hunt down my FBI agent or fill out my friendship criteria form on Github.

Now scroll and enjoy yourself.

Also if I get one more dm blasting me for the badges I probably won't do anything but IT WAS FOR THE BIT!!!!

#introduction #introductory post #blog intro #my stuff #hopefully I was quirky enough to hold your attention #can you tell I haven't slept in 39 hours?#hopefully #intro post updated

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beautifulduckweed · 8 months

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Dear Yuletide Author 2023

Shh! Listen—can you hear it? That weird humming sound? That's me, vibrating with joy and anticipation for everything that Yuletide brings, especially what you, dear Yuletide author, have in store for me.

I’m beautifulduckweed on AO3. Below is a list of likes, a short list of DNWs, as well as my requests for Yuletide. I've included prompts, but please know that they are ABSOLUTELY just suggestions and points of inspiration; feel free to deviate from them, or ditch them entirely and write me something else. God knows I can’t write my own dang stories without taking several wild left turns along the way.

Thanks so much for my gift, and I hope you have a blast writing.

💖🥰 Some things I like 🥰💖

Crackfic and mashups. No premise to stupid, no crossover too incongruous. Listen, recently someone in another exchange requested John Wick x Marie Kondo and I have legit lost sleep thinking about that.

Sexytimes. Please note that I absolutely do not require sex! Some of my favorite exchange gifts have featured absolutely zero sex on page. But if the smutty muse strikes—well, far be it for me to stop you. My tolerance is…high. No, higher. No, no, higher than that. Look, I’ve been a denizen of the Internet long enough that I subscribed to porn newsgroups, OK? My constitution is CAST IRON. I especially enjoy service topping, orgasm control (delayed? denied? forced? ruined? YES), femdoms, people coming untouched, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, improbable feats of horny stamina, people losing control while fucking, gangbangs, and threesomes/moresomes/orgies. I also really love first times, and people finally dropping their defenses and allowing themselves to be vulnerable during sex, and the STOP MAKING LOVE TO ME WHEN WE'RE FUCKING trope. I do have a small list of smut no’s in the Do Not Wants section.

Tropes. Some of my fave tropes are idiots to lovers (idiot4idiot4eva), friends to lovers, forced proximity, cramming attractive people into corsets, drag queen AUs, SFF AUs of every stripe (daemon? Pacific Rim? Superhero/supervillain? Vampires? Inception? Yes yes yessss). I absolutely adore the golden retriever/hissy feral cat dynamic. I also like two soft-hearted dinguses doing their best and trying to treat each other right. And ain't nothin' wrong with enemies who are obsessed with each other who OOPS realize their preoccupation may be more than mere antipathy.

I’d also like to note that much as I love a fic that’s like, a trope confetti cannon, I also really love having tropes (and expectations) subverted. Like, take your standard daemon AU. What would happen if the main character and their daemon…didn’t like each other? What if they were, in fact, mortal enemies? It would be so fucked! I would love to read about it!!!

Horror and gore. I love scary stories and horror; I have a really high tolerance for gore. If you want to lean into action sequences, gore, and body horror, I am (with a few exceptions, which I’m gonna list in the DNWs) gonna be totally cool with it. I basically jumped straight from Enid Blyton to Stephen King. My childhood media consumption was very normal why do you ask 😊

And other stuff. If you want to fuck around with the format of the fic, play around with structure, format, voice, POV, all of it, please do. Here for any weird shit you care to toss my way.

I also really love having my sense of what’s real and what’s not messed with. Like, is it ever possible to have a fully reliable narrator? What is the nature of truth and reality anyway? What role does the overall narratorial voice or framing device of the story play in our perception of the story? I regret to inform you that I'm writing this 100% sober; this is just how my brain is all the time.

😭🚫Do Not Wants 🚫😭

Pet death. I am totally fine with, like, random rabbit needs to be killed for dinner while out in the woods, or oh no, we have to defend ourselves from a charging hippo or hostile lizard from outer space.

Animal cruelty. Brief mentions of stuff happening in the past or whatever are fine; seeing an animal tortured on-page is a big no.

Major character death. Random minions, as always, can be sacrificed to the storytelling gods. NOTE: Major character undeath fine.

Kink and smut no’s: I’m not into blood, scat, vomit or piss. Please no noncon/dubcon where a woman is the victim. NOTE: sex pollen scenarios whereby everybody loses their mind simultaneously is totally fine, as is Fuck or Die.

Unhappy/hopeless endings. Bittersweet is fine; endings where it’s clear a cost has been paid and everybody’s changed etc. etc. also fine, but like, please don’t leave the characters absolutely miserable or unrelentingly tormented by their demons (unless the demons are sexy and the torment is also sexy).

Breakups without makeups: If I requested a canon pairing, or if you decide to write a shippy pairing, please leave their relationship intact at the end of the story. It can take a battering! Just don't break them—or my poor little heart—apart. NOTE: If you're writing a missing scene that takes place while or leads up to a period when the characters are canonically on a break, leaving them broken up or the fight unresolved is fine, because I know canon takes care of things.

🍪🧁Treats 🧁🍪

Are very yes. Love me some treats!!!

📝🎅The Requests 🎅📝

Fandom: The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting - K.J. Charles

Characters: Alice Fenwick, Marianne Loxleigh

Thoughts/Prompts: I am a simple bean, and all I want is Alice and Marianne having adventures. Maybe some lesbian porn. Or platonic lesbian BFF vibes. You can have 'em fall in love, or become platonic life partners, or fuck a lot and never fall in love, or start an elaborate grift or heist together. Like, wouldn’t it be hot if Marnie decided Alice needed some tutoring in the ways of fuckboys, lured one in, and used him to tutor Alice in the ways of satisfying herself while not getting pregnant? I’m seriously down for whatever.

Also, as with all of my fandom requests, please feel free to drag in as many other characters in as necessary. The more, the merrier; I just want Alice and Marnie’s relationship front and center.

Crack Prompts: Hey what about a vampire AU? Marnie as a vampire would be hot—hundreds of years of grifting, and GOD what the hell is up with this entirely-too-nice nerd oh WHOOPS turns out she’s her generation’s foremost vampire hunter. Alice as the vampire would also be amazing—Marnie tries to con Alice and discovers she’s bitten off more than she can chew (ba-dum-tish).

Vampire AU not your cuppa? How about crossovers with literally any other KJC universe? Stick ‘em in Magpies, or have them tangle with the Lilywhite Boys, solve a murder mystery with Pat and Fen, cosh some villains on the head with the Will Darling crew, accidentally fall into an orgy with the Murder, be pulled through time by one of the Green Men. I have read all the KJC books and extras. Go nuts.

Fandom: England Series - K.J. Charles

Characters: Bill Merton, Jimmy Yoxall

Thoughts/Prompts: Look, I love idiots, and these two are SUCH MAGNIFICENT IDIOTS. Jimmy is a giant doofus, and Bill thinks he's smarter, but all evidence points to him being at least as big an idiot when it comes to matters of the heart. I get all feral and heart-eyes over these two nincompoops. I will accept any and everything for these two: fics of the two of them getting to know each other during their university days, falling in love in London, THAT HORRIBLE FIGHT AFTER BEN HUR. Whatever. I ain't picky. I also said one time that they'd be great in Lower Decks and ever since then I may have brainwormed myself a little. They'd be so good in the USS Cerritos! Also down 2 clown with like, incongruous mashups---like John Wick? God, what if Jimmy Yoxall was just really weirdly good at murder, and Bill has to keep his stupid ass alive?

Opt-in for this specific fandom: waiving the breakup without makeup DNW for anything that takes place pre-Proper English events.

Fandom: Fire Island (Movie 2022)

Characters: Noah, Will

Thoughts/Prompts: Goddd, over a year later and it's still my favorite Pride and Prejudice adaptation to date. The found family vibes! Noah explicitly being non-monogamous! The dynamics between ALL the characters, but especially Noah and Howie!!! I am down for whatever for this fandom. Wanna write a big ole sweaty orgy? Have the entire crew go on a giant chaotic family vacation together? (Maybe even…the following year’s trip to Fire Island???). Somebody somehow manages to dare Will into entering a drag contest, and it’s gonna take everyone’s help to make this happen. Noah suddenly finds himself a TikTok sensation and gets into a weird Twitter beef with Taylor Swift.

Crack Prompts: These fools would be incredible in What We Do in the Shadows and Our Flag Means Death.

ALSO, oh my god: since this is a Pride and Prejudice retelling, how about sticking ‘em in a Regency romance novel? I’m inordinately fond of Loretta Chase, and the thought of these four idiots running amuck in the ton is giving me so much glee. Like, think of the Lord of Scoundrels retelling: Will is determined to rescue his idiot friend Charlie from the toils of Noah, a notorious rake, only to find himself reluctantly falling for Noah’s charms. And in the meanwhile, Charlie is falling in love with Howie….

#yuletide #yuletide letter #kj charles #fire island #you can fit so many crack prompts in this baby

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tieflingprincess · 10 months

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5, 11, 18, 29 for the music asks? ...🪶

HELLO my dear, thank you for taking interest in my absolutely chaotic takes 😭

5) A song that needs to be played LOUD

Listen, I know this is meant as like "a song so badass you wanna play it at the club to dance to it" or something along those lines, but all my weirdo brain can offer is, that I have a playlist titled "boss battle" that I frequently blast so loud I feel like I leave this plane of existence to go fight some fucking fantasy battle (as normal people do.... RIGHT? 😭).... so uh yeah it's gonna be Globus - Preliator for this one, which is arguably the Nr 1 paladin song of all time. Which I guess is an odd choice for "loud song" considering how much Metal (yk, the stereotypical loud screaming music gerne xD) I listen to on a daily basis.

11) A song that you never get tired of

Kai Rosenkranz - Vista Point (from the Gothic 3 Soundtrack): I had a LOT of picks for this prompt, many tough contenders, but this song somehow has a death grip on me. Vista Point my beloved. Peak video game music from an obscure old German Fantasy RPG. The DM of the "The Dark Eye"-campaign I play once used this as ambient music and I literally broke character only to yell "Vista Point!" like an idiot.

18) A Song from the year that you were born

Loona - Hijo de la luna: I actually had to do quite some research for this prompt, as I am definetly not familliar with 90s music. Just found out that this song I was obsessed with as a little girl came out the year I was born. Fun fact, I still fondly remember the cool older Goth girl I met at summer camp who originally showed me this song (for some reason?) xD

29) A song that you remember from your childhood

Toraboruta/Kagamine Rin/Vocaloid - Soleil: Also a tough one! But hey... listen, if you grew up on the internet as a lonely weird kid and didn't have a Vocaloid phase you are LYING! This one, I remember, was definetly one of my favorites, I found it so sad and used it to write angsty fanfic. Aaah, good times xD

#these are very weird i am sorry dear friend #thanks for your ask!!#excuse my tangents and ramblings #about me #chococinochii

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strikedenko · 2 years

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Visitor: 3

Part three of a collaborative story written by me and my boyfriend, Jake.

Part 1

Part 2

X.x.X (Perspective Switches)

Jake had a fitful night of sleep that night. It was strange enough not sleeping in his normal bed, even forgetting what had happened when he just wanted to have a little fun. Just his luck that this planet had a character that looked like HIM.

"...No way he knew." He murmured to himself after a few minutes of listening to Denko's snore-like purrs. He'd glance at the clock on the wall to see what time it was, but he wasn't about to go exploring a stranger's apartment before dawn, especially with these DAMN EYES THAT WON'T REDISGUISE!!

He growled a little as the couch fabric he stared at remained lit as if in a sunbeam. He had a hard time focusing enough to keep his fur gray-purple and his fur thick and fluffy as it was WITHOUT these stupid peepers refusing to cooperate...

He wanted to give his charm a quick squeeze to focus its power better, but that would necessitate moving his arm and getting pins and needles...Why could his limbs fall asleep if his brain was still awake, what the heck biology???

At least Denko was still sound asleep. He certainly wasn't going to reveal his true form to a stranger, no matter how helpful they may be.

...Though...Maybe one day he'd trust him enough. He didn't know why, but he felt Denko wasn't the unsavory sort. Try as he might to forget it, the nightmare that woke him was just plain irrational. There was no way he'd help get him captured... Well, willingly, anyway.

For the time being, the odds his dad had used threats to get them to cooperate were nonzero, but...good lord, he needed to learn to relax. It'd been how many years since he'd blasted off and not one person had seen him without his disguise...?

Well, maybe not with NO disguise, but still, someone would have to notice the holes and slip ups, and-

"Daagh! Just...Shut up up there, okay???" He says, knocking a fist against his skull and speaking a little louder than he'd wanted to. A little shuffling sound prompted him to curl into a tighter ball and shut his eyes.

X.x.X

That shuffling belonged to Denko, kneading into the couch as he slept for whatever reason. It didn't seem like he was disturbed from the sound, but a few minutes would pass before his eyes shot open.

What a strange dream...

The feline glances over to the mass of fur and cloth that was Jake, appearing to still be asleep. Denko's first thought was snuggling up with him, but... no. That's far too forward. It hadn't even been 12 hours since they met. Frankly, the fact Jake was okay with sharing a sleeping space with him was a small miracle in and of itself.

He figured it was pretty early, as Denko felt pretty sluggish compared to the past few nights roaming around Earth. Given the fact that he didn't think his moms were even up yet proved that it was far before dawn. Weird how dreams can sometimes do that.

And... he has already forgotten about the dream he just woke up from. Weird how the brain can sometimes do that. It was definitely interesting, but not enough to remember beyond that particular adjective.

Instead, that memory is replaced with what had occurred the night prior. Jake froze up pretty bad in reaction to their last match, and Denko figured the Lucario was a big reason. Heck, even George had a distaste for it. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened.

Speaking of George, he was just waking up as well, clear in Denko's view. He yawned and stretched out a bit- No, not a bit. George stretched his plant fiber neck a good six feet before retracting it back into the pot. Talk about alien...

Denko figured he was going to see some weird stuff, though that alone was enough to warrant a shiver up his spine. Still, he didn't want to be rude, giving a friendly wave to the potted plant.

He looked confused for a moment, tilting his head before looking down at one of his leaves and waving back experimentally. He glanced around the room trying to find a window, drooping down when none were seen. Denko could figure what he wanted, though. Grass types used sunlight as nourishment, so it was possible that George was similar.

The feline stood up from the couch, stretching his limbs one by one, before waving again at the plant from the door, trying to get his attention. Through some kind of primitive sign language, Denko tells George that there's a window in the main room. The sun might not rise for another hour, but the plant would probably want to soak in rays at the first opportunity.

George curiously follows the feline out the door, zapping on the lights with a minute beam of electricity. Truly wireless. George then slowly waddled across the room until he jumped up onto the couch, directly in line with the clearest part of the window, and assumed what Denko could only guess to be a photosynthesis pose.

With a chuckle, he opens the blinds and returns to the guest room. Jake remained fast asleep, though he figured the fox would wake up soon. They had fallen asleep at roughly the same time, so it wasn't long before, right?

X.x.X

It took over an hour until Jake would open his eyes once more, seeing Denko sat on the other couch... daydreaming? It sure looked that way. He at least tended to get a sorta faraway look in his eyes like that when lost in thought.

He had planned to pretend to be asleep until Denko fell back asleep so he could take George to get his morning sunshine, but since his host went and did it himself, he had actually managed to get some proper sleep.

He sat up, rubbed his eyes, smacked his face a few times, and grabbed his glasses off the back of the couch with a yawn. Denko snapped out of his thoughts once Jake's yawn entered his ears, resulting in a mirrored yawn and a stretch.

"Good morning, Jake."

"Mornin, Denko.

...Where's George?" He saw him take his little buddy into the hall some time ago, but it wouldn't hurt to keep up the 'actually slept well' act.

"He's in the main room, soaking up sunlight," Denko answered. "I presume he does absorb sunlight?"

He chuckles. "It's one way for him to eat, at least. He's got those teeth for a reason, y'know." Meat is George's main meal of choice, though sunlight was good for a quick snack, so he rarely complained. Lucky him this planet had a quick day/night cycle.

*Grrrrm...*

"...Speaking of eating-

Hah, Talk about uncanny timing."

"Hah, yeah." Denko seemed to feel a little peckish as well. "Kitchen's just outside, feel free to help yourself!" The feline exited out the door to set a few utensils at one of the table seats, seemingly for Jake. That's nice of him!

It'll be nice to have something at an actual table for once instead of just a chair in his room, using his lap as a table. What to eat, what to eat...Oooh, that looks like a tasty juice flavor! Now then, Cereal, Cereal...This all they got, then? Eh, he supposes it'll do. Ooh, and some toast, too!

He pops the bread in the toaster, grabs a bowl and a glass, then sets about making his usual breakfast. Strangely, though, Denko was absent, so when he wanted to ask where the milk was, the feline was nowhere to be seen. "Denko? Uh...Weird, where'd he go?"

He checks out in the hall, but no sign of him. Huh. Well, it can't be that tricky to find on his own, can it? Oughta be buried SOMEWHERE in the fridge.

"Looking for something?" Jake LITERALLY jumps back against the counter, his heart beating out of his chest when he sees Denko right next to him with a bundle of berries in his arms.

"...YOU for a minute there! Where'd you go?"

Denko responds with a chuckle. "Gathering berries to have for breakfast. Don't want you eating alone." Fair point but why would he collect berries when they had plenty of food? Honestly, Jake was just surprised he could harvest good berries that quickly-

"Well...Now that you're here, is the milk anywhere awkward? I can't see it at a glance, so I assume it's buried somewhere in the fridge?"

This... just results in an awkward expression from the cat. "I don't actually know. Blaze never told me where she kept it after... the incident..." He shudders. Jake raises an eyebrow, but after remembering that most felines are lactose intolerant, he QUICKLY shoves the developing mental image into the depths of his mind.

"...So, she'll probably know, then? Is she a morning person, or no?" Denko shook his head, but the fox felt he was close to finding it on his own, anyways. "I'll just keep looking."

X.x.X

Denko nodded, turning his attention to one of the cabinets. Opening it revealed a multitude of plates and bowls, Denko taking one of the latter and moving to the pantry. There, he grabbed a small bottle of spices, a saucepan, and... something else. Certainly canned.

He placed the bowl on the counter and began to chop some juicy looking berries, before dumping them into the bowl and removing the cork containing the spices, coating roughly half of the contents into the bowl. Jake glanced over to see the cat open the can and pour the contents into the bowl. The liquid that came out was very light and opaque.

"That's... the milk," Jake muttered with a droning voice.

Denko glanced back at the fox and chuckled. "No, this is a type of dairy-free batter." Jake's head tilted back up with a curious look on his face, before Denko moved away from the bowl to a cutting board, setting the rest of the berries down on the wooden surface.

Instead of using a knife to cut, though, he used the claw ending his right index finger. He kept a red berry down with his free hand, and SLICE. In one swift motion, the berry is cut in two. So uncivilized-

Denko continues to chop up the remaining berries, in a similar fashion to how berries should be cut, just with a claw rather than a clean knife. Worrying to the fox, though the cat hopefully knew what he was doing. Besides, he's about to heat it up-

He dumps the bowl's contents into the saucepan, before sticking it into the oven for a few minutes. After that, he just kinda leans onto the counter, waiting for it to ding. Jake had nearly emptied the ENTIRE fridge searching for some milk. May as well spark some conversation in the meantime, as the tip of the fox's tail was starting to flick in agitation.

"So, how long have you been exploring the cosmos?"

"Ehhhh... Few years, at least. Honestly, sorta lost track of how many specifically, but at least 5."

Considering Denko's physical age, that was weird to imagine-

"Huh, nice. Have you ever been to the solar system before?"

Jake lets out a curious 'hm,' quickly getting his confusion across.

"This one, I mean-"

"Ohhhhhh. Nope, haven't been to Sol. Been meaning to! Just...well, most of galactic civilization have been waiting for y'all to catch up technology-wise before we have any major first contact."

He had a feeling it wasn't the only reason. Though, neither of them would want to talk about it, certainly not Denko-

"Humans are making good progress, though they rely heavily on pokemon. We've got space travel mostly figured out.

...Actually, that's a lie. Only certain species can escape the atmosphere, and those are hard to come by."

A shame that Zeraoras weren't one of those species. He's always wanted to explore beyond the blue sky.

"I'd love to see how vast the cosmos are and the diverse creatures littered around the galaxy. Although, I imagine some aren't too different from those found here."

He's reminded of what had happened the night prior.

"Oh yeah, did you... have a rough experience with Lucarios...?" He was hesitant to ask, and the way Jake froze up with his fur standing on end, his fears were all but confirmed.

He didn't say anything. Suddenly his lower paws seemed much more interesting than the contents of the fridge. His upper paws clenched the handle of a jug of juice, and rather than pushing, Denko just stayed quiet. If Jake wished to talk about it, he would.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

His curry was done. He takes the saucepan out of the oven and pours it back into the bowl, before adding in the chopped berries, and taking out a spoon. After placing it on the counter, he spoke.

"I'll go ask Blaze where the milk is."

X.x.X

Of course. Of bloody COURSE it'd come up again. I mean, why WOULDN'T it? With the way he locked up and broke down at a freaking video game, what decent person wouldn't be worried...

As said decent person walked out of his sight through the living room, Jake found himself leaning against the counter, tightly gripping his arm.

...This was only a temporary arrangement. He'd stay here a few days, source the materials he'd need to get off this rock one way or another, and leave this place behind. The odds were low he'd be found here, but nothing is ever guaranteed. That old psycho had to give up and look for another whore to make him another successor at SOME point.

He found his jaw clenching and his hand balling into a fist as he kept thinking. Just his luck he had the gall to 'save' them, whatever the smuckerfuck that meant. After all, the two of them had practically wasted their ENTIRE LIVES on that GODFORSAKEN ICEBA-

His breath hitched as he noticed the bright red color on one of his hands fading to a dark gray. His other one quickly found its way to his charm and gave it a firm squeeze, and gradually his hand returned to 'normal'. He dared a glance back at the door, and nobody was there.

He took a deep breath. "...Just don't think about it.", He breathed to himself, letting the tension fade from his body. "He doesn't know you're here. For all he knows, you died from that missile." Most people wouldn't find that thought comforting. He wasn't most people.

X.x.X

Seven rhythmic knocks on the bedroom door up the stairs resulted in Blaze's voice echoing through.

"Come in."

Denko opens the door to meet Blaze sitting in one of the chairs facing the bed, a laptop on the stand beside her. Zera was still curled up, letting out soft purrs as she slept.

"Do you know where the milk is? Jake's making cereal." Blaze let out a 'hm' in response, before answering.

"I can show you." Blaze walked past the large feline down the stairs, shortly followed by Denko. Not long after, the two enter Jake's line of sight.

"Give me a moment."

Blaze approaches the fridge, opens it, reaches for a shelf, and... pulls out a carton of milk.

What?" Denko and Jake exclaimed at the same time. After a moment of silence, Jake clears his throat. "Yes, well. I was gonna look there next." Must be a divine power of hers, or the milk was just hiding in plain sight. Honestly, either one was a possibility-

Oh well, Jake had milk now. They could finally have breakfast. Blaze returned to her room, so the two were once again alone.

Though, something seems to dawn on Jake. "...Wait, shouldn't my...?" He glanced at the toaster, and saw his toast had gotten cold. "...How did I not? Notice tha...whatever."

Breakfast is breakfast, even if one part was a little colder than he'd liked. Juice in one hand, Cereal in another, and toast dangling from his mouth, Jake moved his butt over to the dining table just beyond the counter, as did Denko and his bowl of poorly made curry.

How poorly made? The berries he put in after toasting the main portion weren't very specific, meaning a lot of conflicting flavors. If Denko hadn't realized this sooner, he sure as hell realized now, nearly spitting out his first mouthful. He manages to catch himself, though, and swallows the mix down his throat. Spitting out food would be a bad first impression.

"You alright, there?" Some odd phrasing, but Jake had a look of concern. Besides, Denko would be the last one to question it.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just... I am not a cook." The feline heads back to the kitchen and wipes his face with a napkin, before disposing of it and taking another. My Arceus he's still going to eat it-

"Why else do you think I went with just cereal, toast and juice-", Chuckled the fox. "Most I can make myself is pasta. If it involves anything specific or measuring or the like, I tend to avoid it. Hell, that even goes for when I don't make it." Finished with his toast, he spoons some cereal and sticks it in his mouth. "Oooh, sweet... I have annoyingly specific tastes, is what I'm getting at."

He can relate. He would speak, but dude's currently trying to swallow another spoonful of the mix. All the while, he's just nodding. Eventually, he does choke it down. "Yeah. I've gotten better since regularly going out, but I tend to prefer spice." He takes another bite before gagging a bit. "...I really can't stand sour berries, sorry."

Why did he even get sour berries? Oh well. He fills a cup with water and forces the rest of his bites down. Definitely helped get rid of the aftertaste.

"I think I'll just buy my own shhhhtuff."

X.x.X

At least Jake wouldn't be staying for long, or so he hoped. With breakfast and a little ice breaking out of the way, he made his way back to the guest room to get his multi-baton. Almost the instant he reached for it, there went his alarm-

Thankfully it shut off the instant he picked it up, or H4yw1r3's incessant whistling and warbling would have woken up the entire building. A further series of beeps, whistles, and warbles came as the AI's form of greeting.

"Mornin' to you too, Wire.

...Yeah, I know I'm up a bit early, but can you blame me for not sleeping well?"

A dejected beep follows.

"I know, but I don't blame you for not catching that. Thing was tiny!"

Jake presses a few buttons and twists the top half of the device until a little red triangle is aligned with a projector symbol, and a tiny suction cup pops out of the bottom half.

"But, speaking of...How about running a quick repair and recon scan?" He places the device on the ground, and a translucent blue dome spreads to fill the room. Floating inside were all sorts of holograms, schematics, graphs, maps, what-have-you.

Jake brought a hand to his chin as he examined it all. Denko caught a glimpse of the hologram out of the corner of his eye, nearly choking on another bite.

"Jake, that you?"

"Yup. Just checking some things over." He hummed, sweeping aside a cross-section of the Neutron Star - the engine model fitted to The Ion, in favor of a graph displaying the necessary materials to fix it. Almost all of them displayed a green checkmark, but one or two had an orange diamond, denoting something that existed on this planet, but was uncommon or otherwise difficult to come by.

Of course.

Denko's jaw dropped a bit when he walked in, amazed by the full hologram. "Woah, this looks awesome!" It is indeed awesome-

"Ain't it?" He chuckled, in spite of the light frustration. "And it isn't all this little wonder can do, either." He points at the tool stuck to the floor as he walks over to inspect a spheroid map of Earth. Multiple yellow dots had appeared on it, most of them relatively close to a green arrow icon.

"I think that's the Ion," Denko says, pointing out the arrow. "What about the yellow stuff around it?"

"Close. That's us." He points out another triangle, but this one had lines cut out to make it resemble a ship. "THAT'S the Ion. The yellow icons are waypoints." Haywire whistled. "Apparently those are materials I need.

....Shame that it doesn't give any coordinates for them, though..." An offended warble sounds off. "Oh shaddap, it can't be THAT difficult..."

"Hardware fault, I'm guessing?" Yet another offended beeping from the device, which Denko rolls his eyes at.

"Eh, at least the map can be projected on a smaller scale." Glancing at the list again, he lets out an annoyed sigh. He taps all the checkmarks, and gradually most of the waypoints disappear save for two. They were diamond shaped as well, and very much NOT close to their present location.

"Jeez, that's annoying. Good thing I've been around the world a few times within the last week."

Hang on wut? Jake's neck swivels around so fast it's astonishing he didn't get whiplash. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, derp.

Well, since you shared a secret of yours, might as well return the favor." An odd choice, given he can excuse it with the fact that he literally runs at lightning speed and could lap Earth in 5 minutes.

"I'm the guardian of Earth, so I travel around pretty regularly."

Two blinks from Jake as his jaw hung low.

"...It's less exciting than you'd think."

". . .D A Y U M B O I-" Came Jake's response after a solid minute of silence. "So that explains the..." His gaze drifts from his own paws to Denkos. If he was a guardian...did he catch his ship with those? And did George's titanium teeth not leave any marks because of that too?

...Suddenly it felt really warm in there, particularly his face. It was a small relief that he had fur to hide his blush. Unfortunately(?), Haywire seemed to notice the jump in body temp, sprouting a small fan from the top of the baton to get some air circulation going, the act of which made Denko mirror Jake's blush from what it meant, though quickly fading as his thoughts shifted to the issue at hand.

"We should probably plan out our route. I'll examine the map."

X.x.X

Denko pulled out his phone from under his excess paw fluff, which was really a slimmer iPad running iPhone software, alongside some hardware. From the sheer size of his paws, it's most certainly so he'd have an easier time using it.

"Let's handle the toughies, first. Think you can focus on one of them?"

Jake does so, zooming in towards the furthest waypoint. The more Denko analyzed it, the more he could pinpoint the general location of their destination, give or take a few dozen miles. One tap on his phone screen later, and their destination was set. Of course, he'd have to redo it after each material obtained, but they'll cross the bridge when they get there.

...Really sucks how his phone can only set one destination at a time. "I'm ready when you are. I'll let my moms know what we're doing."

Jake nods, then resumes fiddling with some of the holographic display while he heads out. Denko heads through the living room and up the stairs, knocking again on the door in the same rhythmic fashion. Blaze once again allows entrance, she and Zera seated in the chairs, the former with a laptop...well, atop her lap-

"Jake and I are gonna head out... somewhere." Denko still didn't want to share Jake's full struggle, which Blaze thankfully seemed to look past with a nod.

"Oh, I want to show you something," she swiftly followed with. Denko figured it was something Celana sent them, since she's been doing so for a bit. Perhaps Saiden snuck into one of her shoots. Instead, her screen displayed an article from The New Tork Times.

The headline? "First Contact: Invisible Spacecraft Found West of Anville"

#collab #collab fic #pokemon #zeraora #zorua #pokemon zorua #pokemon zeraora #shiny zeraora #source filmmaker #sfm #story #denko.arts

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