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#slow burn?
a-small-safe-place · 5 months
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His Haven Pt. 2
Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader
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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
As the weeks passed, Homelander continued to integrate himself into your life, blurring the lines between patient and "friend." One evening, after a particularly intense session, Homelander broached the subject of spending more time together outside of the therapy room. "I was thinking," he began, his blue eyes searching yours, "maybe we could grab a bite sometime. You know, outside of this place." Your heart sank, torn between the genuine connection you felt with Homelander and the professional boundaries you knew you needed to maintain. With all your other patients, you had discussed boundaries, but not with the members of The Seven. The Deep, A-Train, and Queen Maeve viewed these sessions as a waste of time. Starlight and Black Noir had kept a very professional relationship. You weren't totally sure why Black Noir still came to the sessions since his sessions were spent in silence, usually with him drawing pictures of Buster Beaver and his little buddies. Starlight was the only one that used the sessions for what they were meant for.
You had not thought you needed to set boundaries with them, and that, since these were America's greatest heroes, the boundaries were obvious and unspoken. Oh, how that had bitten you in the ass now, having to turn down the offer. You let those boundaries slip by allowing Homelander to come to your house, but in that situation, there was not a lot you could do to stop him.
"I appreciate the offer, Homelander, but it's important to keep our relationship within the confines of our sessions," you replied carefully, trying to hide the conflict in your eyes, unaware that he could hear your heartbeat and smell your nervousness. Homelander's expression shifted from hopeful anticipation to a subtle disappointment that cut through you. "Right, professional boundaries," he said, a forced smile tugging at his lips. It is the kind of smile that does not reach his eyes. "I get it." You could not let his dangerous expression get to you.
The following sessions became strained. Homelander seemed distant, his usually confident demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability and irritation. You should be thanking him that he is interested in you. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were stilted. It was clear that your rejection had affected him more than either of you anticipated. Homelander was not willing to give up. You just needed a chance to come around.
One day, after a difficult session, Homelander lingered in your office. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and hurt. Homelander knew you did not have a partner in your life. He had stopped by to do a thorough search of your home while you were out, and there was no evidence of you dating someone, not even the smell of a casual hookup still lingering on your skin. You sighed, maintaining the professionalism that defined your role. "It's not that I don't value our sessions, Homelander. But crossing the boundaries of a therapeutic relationship can be detrimental for both of us," you explained, your words hanging heavily in the air. "I want what's best for you, and sometimes that means maintaining a professional distance."
Homelander's jaw tensed, and he stood abruptly. "So, I'm just another patient to you, is that it?" His eyes bore into yours, searching for a hint of vulnerability that matched his own. "No, Homelander, you're not just another patient," you replied softly, your heart aching at the pain evident in his eyes. "But I have a responsibility to ensure that our interactions remain focused on your well-being." He stormed out of your office without another word, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Homelander is a dangerous and unpredictable man. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, replaced by an unspoken tension that hung in the air during each subsequent session.
Days turned into weeks, and the divide between you and Homelander deepened. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained and unproductive. Of course, for Homelander, he still had his time with you even if you were oblivious to it. Though, he would much rather be in your arms than jacking off on the building next to yours while you participated in a similar activity in the warmth of your bed. 
One evening, after a silent session, Homelander was particularly grumpy in this session. He had expressed that he had a bad day. Homelander lingered at the door. "You should be fucking thanking me,” He pauses. “I am giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you're fucking throwing it away. Do you know how many people would leave their whole families just for one glance from me?”
The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders as he walked away, leaving you alone in the empty office. It made you wonder how dangerous Homelander really was and how desperate he would become if you continued to deny him. The once-promising connection had fractured irreparably, and the professional boundaries you fought so hard to maintain had come at the cost of a genuine connection with Homelander.
The weeks passed with a lingering tension between you and Homelander. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, leaving behind an unspoken rift that seemed insurmountable. Homelander attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained, devoid of the genuine connection that had defined your earlier interactions. It became evident that your rejection had affected him more deeply than either of you anticipated. Homelander, usually the embodiment of confidence, now wore an air of vulnerability and loneliness that tugged at your conscience. The sessions were marked by long pauses, resentful glances, and a palpable discomfort that neither of you could ignore. You couldn't shake the feeling of regret that lingered each time you saw him. The haunting realization that you had sacrificed something meaningful for the sake of professional decorum weighed heavily on your conscience. Late one evening, a knock echoed through your home. Homelander stood at the doorway, his usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored the man you had glimpsed in the early days of your sessions. "I need someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice a whisper.
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weebswrites · 1 year
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Lucifer x GN!MC - Lucifer's First (wc: 1788) I saw a post saying that there's no way the bros are anywhere near the level of dominance we typically write them as during Nightbringer bc they literally Just fell from the Celestial Realm. Unless you're telling me Michael let them fuck there is no way any of them have done a single act of sin so I will be taking my darling Lucifer and we will be having our first kiss (and more in a reblog soon) thank you very much
Reluctantly, Lucifer had agreed to have lunch with you. You'd been asking for days - subtly, of course (at least to you).
This was the demon you were in love with. You'd shared long nights together completing paperwork and assignments side by side, as well as nights having the best sex of either of your lives. Being sent back in time was tearing you apart. You missed the Lucifer that held you as you fell asleep after a long day, even when he had a mountain of paperwork with a looming deadline. The Lucifer that knew your favorite tea, that walked you back to the HoL after school every day. You missed the way his lips would brush yours, hesitating for just a moment before kissing you with a passion you knew was incapable of description. You missed what came after that.
But you knew, and Solomon had spent days reminding (and consoling) you, that this was not that Lucifer. It was weird. You knew things about him that he didn't, that he wouldn't for centuries to come. It felt like you had to carefully plan each thing you said, as to not reveal you were from the future.
Despite all this: the secret knowledge, the memories yet to be made, and the growing urge you had to throw yourself into his arms, you wanted more. To be in a room with him, even having to be so mindful, was better than nothing. So finally, after days of bargaining, here you were. Seated across from the love of your life in his office, food and hot tea between you.
You found yourself getting lost staring at him. It was during one of these moments when he finally addressed it.
"MC. I know you've been very enthusiastic about having this lunch, but must you spend it staring at me?" he put his tea down and looked back at you, "Surely you have something you want to talk about..."
He was clearly giving you the space to talk, and not acknowledge the staring, which you gladly took.
"Oh! Yeah, I was actually wondering," your brain was moving so fast you thought he'd be able to see the gears turning through your eyes. "If you'd heard anything from Diavolo about the school?"
Lucifer's gaze remained unchanged, and almost as if he was waiting for you to say more.
"He said he wants it to educate the demons that live here, right? How would he decide who'll teach? And what to teach?"
Lucifer sat back in his chair a bit, a sign you knew meant he had something important to say. You mirrored the action, bringing your tea cup with you.
"He's been wondering the same thing, actually. With no previous and consistent forms of education, how do we decide who's qualified to teach? His thought so far is...us."
You couldn't hide the shock from your face. There was no way you could teach; you weren't even a demon! Luckily, Lucifer kept talking before your thoughts could spiral.
"Don't worry, I put a quick stop to that" he said, clearly having noticed your panic. "His next thought was asking friends of this father's if they'd be willing. They don't all have the most progressive attitude, but he thinks some of them would definitely be give it a shot. So that's our start. He was going to update you at the next official meeting."
You thought for a second before responding. You didn't know much about the intricacies of RAD's founding, something you wished you would have done more research on now that you were here.
"I think that's a good idea. As long as we go to the right people, or demons, first, we should have a strong backing for opening the school."
Lucifer nodded, "I agree. We can work on that list of demons not people at the meeting" he smirked to you as he lifted his tea cup, sending a fiery blush to your face. The rest of lunch consisted of small talk, you asking questions to 'learn' more about the eldest brother, and him giving basic responses. He asked a few questions about your history as well, which surprised you more than it should have. He did fall in love with you, too, after all.
"Well, I have paperwork to get to, if you don't mind I'd like to be alone now"
You smiled, "Only if you'll walk me to the door"
His eyes met yours before his smile joined it, and the two of you walked to the large wooden door of his office.
"Thanks for agreeing to this, Lucifer, I appreciate it"
"It wasn't nearly as...boring...as I thought" he half-teased.
You laughed at his honesty, and he couldn't help but crack a smile too. Your eyes met, and your heart ached. It was in moments like these when you wanted nothing more than to feel the strong safety of his arms. In an instant, your brain replayed the nights of loneliness you'd spent here, wishing for any ounce of Lucifer to help you fall asleep.
Before your brain was fully back from the memories, you were on your toes, leaning into Lucifer and wrapping your arms underneath his. His body stiffened, but you couldn't have pulled away if you tried. He smelt the same as he did in your time, and you felt more at home than you had since the moment you suddenly found yourself here. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his shoulder, and after a few seconds, you felt his arms wrap around you too.
You let out a breath into his chest, and like on cue, his arms tightened around you, returning the hug.
"Lucifer" you whispered into him, trying to memorize everything about this moment.
"I don't know why I feel so...drawn to you, MC. But I do. It's the first thing I've ever been unsure of."
You pulled back a bit to look at him, both of your arms still intertwined around each other.
"Even when I rebelled against Michael, I knew it was the right thing to do. It was what I believed in, and even knowing the chaos it would cause, I knew I had to do it."
You looked into his eyes, trying not to let tears well as he opened his heart to you. It was rare to talk about his falling in your time, so his willingness to confide in you was a moment that struck your heart.
"But you. You come out of nowhere, and are so invested in my life, and my brothers' lives. Why? I don't get it, and I don't get why I feel so compelled to let you. To accept you into our new home and let you form bonds with each of them," he paused for a moment, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes, "To let you form a bond with me."
You kissed him. His words filled your heart with such pure emotion, you didn't know how to express your love and gratitude in anything except a kiss. So you leaned in, softly pressing your lips to his as one of your hands moved to his hair.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, tensing again in surprise. But his hands tightened around your waist, and he didn't pull away. You kept your lips pressed to his, and in a moment, he returned the kiss.
It was nothing like the Lucifer from your time, but it was Lucifer. His kiss was messy and he struggled to match what your lips were doing. This was unexpected, but then it clicked. He was freshly fallen from the Celestial Realm. He'd probably never kissed anyone before. Or at least not much.
You smiled against him, and he kissed your smile. "Lucifer" you whispered, and he opened his eyes to look at you.
"Lucifer, was that your first kiss?"
For the first time outside of the confines of the bedroom, you saw him blush. The tops of his cheeks turned a light pink, and his eyes quickly fell to the floor.
His lack of immediate denial was answer enough, and you gently raised his chin with your index finger and thumb and brought your lips together again.
It was smoother already, him matching your rhythm quickly, hands holding you close. He moaned into your mouth at the same time you moaned into his, the mutual desire becoming clear.
"MC" he whispered against your lips, "I..."
He trailed off, unsure of what to say or what to do.
You wanted to pour your heart out. To tell him everything that had happened, and about the memories the two of you would one day make. But Solomon’s voice popped into your head, and you knew that would only make things worse, so you took a breath before talking.
“All I know is that kissing you is the only thing I’ve been able to think about since I got here,” you laughed a bit embarrassed, “But I realized just now that this is new territory. I don’t want to rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but-”
He kissed you before you could get another word out. It was a single kiss, and only on about half your mouth, but it made your heart do a backflip nonetheless. “MC, I am terribly out of my element. You’ve clearly done this…had a relationship like this before. And I haven’t.” You were amazed at his honesty, but his Pride was something he’d learned to put aside for you in the future. Maybe he was already learning how to do it here, too. “I hadn’t thought about kissing you. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about kissing at all until the moment your lips were on mine. But now, I know it’s all I’m going to be thinking about.”
His eyes held yours, as if waiting for you to finish his thought.
“You’re a demon now. Your body might want things that it hadn’t as an angel, and your mind might not like that” you cringed at how much you sounded like a middle school health teacher, but persisted, hoping it would help Lucifer feel more at ease. “I’m willing to do anything you’re comfortable with. And we can learn along the way.”
Equally as embarrassed as you, he smiled. “Thank you. I’d like to kiss some more, if that’s okay.”
You had to restrain a laugh, the mental image of the Lucifer in your time seeing the Lucifer of now was something you’d definitely be telling him when you got back to the present. But for now, you cupped his face in your hands and nodded, leaning in and kissing him again.
A/N: PART TWO WILL BE UP AS SOON AS I’M DONE WRITING IT!! no v cards will be taken but things will get steamy >:)
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drowningyoursorrow · 9 months
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(THEY LONG TO BE) CLOSE TO YOU
kyle spencer x gn! Reader
You were new to being in the coven and most often kept your distance from the rest, excluding Violet. So when she brings back a zombie-like boy back from wherever he came from, you were appalled. Everyone eventually had to watch over him and his wellbeing like some baby. You stayed away from him, until you couldn't anymore.
!!!: none? W/C: 1.3k
THE WITCHES had something to attend to, and you didn't want to partake, earlier you had to go over the limit with your powers. Still exhausted and worn out, Cordelia decided that it would be best if you rest. You were a bit ashamed of how weak you still were but knew that Cordelia was always right. You were fine with the suggestion, noting that you could practice a bit more in the meantime and look after the place. Zoe suggested that since you weren't going with them, you could look after Kyle.
You didn't steer clear of him out of dislike, you actually felt sorry for him, and he often made you feel sad. But whenever Zoe were to look after him, he would break down and throw a "tantrum" in the most sudden moments. He seemed to be fond of Zoe, and he would still freak out like that, it scared you a bit. Although he was zombie like and wasn't the best talker, he still had indescribable strength to him. In which you feared him because of it, it was ridiculous, but him being like Frankenstein didn't help your case.
But you knew Zoe cared deeply about his own wellbeing, and she was particularly kind to you. So you decided to suck it up and try your best, now wishing you did help look after him. Because when you walked back into the school, he stood before you, and you didn't know what to do. He had a forlorn expression of Zoe leaving, and it did make your heart ache, so you greeted him with a smile. It seemed he wasn't used to you two interacting either, because he returned with a confused look.
He studied your expression, and you did the best you could to make it seem more genuine coming from you. It sufficed, since he held a bigger smile than you, almost as if he was happy you finally spoke to him. "Alright Kyle, let's uh- what do you want to do?" You paused for a moment, realizing that he can't really answer your question, but he was trying. You tensed, not meaning to already frustrate him, and just grabbed his arm and pulled him with you near the doorway.
"Let's go for a walk, yeah?" You turned expectantly to him, and he nodded sheepishly at the question, extending out his arms. You stared at him confused on what the hell he was doing before realizing, he wanted help with his coat. So you delicately put it on him, afraid that he might react a certain way if you were too fast and urgent. You put his mittens on him too, deciding it was too cold out, he stared down at you as you slid them on.
A smile was adorned on his features as he smiled at you, you were already wearing your coat from previously walking out with the rest. You grabbed your own gloved from your pockets, ready to put them back on, before Kyle stopped you. He stared at you as he wore a big grin and took your gloves, he must'e wanted to put them on you like you did with him. It was a sweet gesture, but it would be harder for Kyle since he already had mittens on, and he was just fiddling with them. Trying to make them fit onto your hands, he was trying his best, but it wasn't really working.
So, you used your fingers slightly redirecting them easier into the opening of the gloves, hum erupting from Kyle. They were crumpled on, but Kyle looked prideful as he looked up at you, awaiting your reaction. "Wow, Kyle, you did it even better than I ever could. You did a good job, thank you for helping me." There was sincerity in your tone as you smiled back at him, "W-Welllcomeee." His reply caught you off guard, you're not usually the one to hear him talk, and you smiled even harder as you led him outside.
You knew Cordelia said it would be better if you were to rest, but how he eager he looked to go on a walk made you want to. Your body and mind were sore, but you figured you could hold off long enough until you get back. As you and Kyle strolled aimlessly, you were thankful that he wasn't able to pick up on much of your staggering. Too absorbed with the scenery and views in front of him and all around him. It made you smile and so you just gazed at him as you walked side to side, you created some distance not wanting to bump into him.
You steered him into the direction of a nearby park, neither of you really speaking. Just enjoying the presence of one another. You finally directed your attention away from Kyle and stared forward, the cool breeze settling around you. "It's so beautiful out here, I should go on walks more." You felt Kyle stifle beside you and give you a pout, unsure of what he wanted, "what, no? I shouldn't go on walks?"
He just shook his head, wanting to obviously say something, but couldn't really muster up the words to do so. Instead, he just took your hand beside him and walked closer alongside you, you were confused now. You two were close now, walking together, "You want us, to go on walks more? Together?" "Yeeess, too....to-togethhherr." You both looked at each other, you nodded at his words as you both giggled alongside each other.
You remembered the proximity of you two, since he got his point across, you separated yourself from him once more. Not wanting to make anything awkward for the both of you, but Kyle snapped his head at you. He was pouting again and tried reaching for your hand again, "are you still cold? Here, you can wear my gloves underneath your mittens." You were beginning to take off your gloves before he stopped you and shook his head, slowly encasing your hands with his. He peered up at you, wanting to know if you understood what he wanted, and you did, you just gave him a small smile.
Confused and unsure of the moment that you two were sharing, you assumed that this would comfort him. So you squeezed his hand to reassure him, and he sheepishly smiled at you before continuing on walking. Although you never really spoke to Kyle, you understood why Zoe cared so deeply for him. Although he was a grown man, he had that sense of wonder in him that disappears in people when they get older. You could see the gleam in his eyes as he looked at you once more, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.
He was so beautiful and throughout your guy's stroll, you acknowledged the amount of times Kyle refrained from lashing out. Instead, he looked deeply into your eyes and relaxed, he was trying not to freak you out, as if he knew why you avoided him. You felt your stomach do something and instead of hesitance and fear as you walked with Kyle. It turned into comfort and relaxation, you let him walk side by side with you and let him be right at your hip. Kyle was smiling incredibly hard as he looked back at you, seeming grateful that you finally let him in.
Neither of you needed to speak and just held each other's hands tighter, not knowing why you both found relief in another. Suddenly you felt hot, very hot, and your skin itched uncomfortably. You felt your legs begin to give out as your breath quickened, your body was beginning to feel incredibly painful. And your steps began to falter, Kyle only turned to you, hearing yelling, before you fell and everything turned black. You should've listened to Cordelia, she was always right.
..............................................................................................................................
- Title is a song that pre-death Kyle would listen to unironically when he's in love - Part two, maybe if I'm feeling romantic - I love Kyle, he's so adorable - Mildly proofread
Hope you enjoyed and if you have any requests or questions please dm!
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night-market-if · 7 months
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Am I right to assume that if you choose to only romance Malcolm that he will also be with milo? I’m just wondering if it changes anything! And do they get together on their own too? Does it take longer/slower depending on the mcs involvement? Sorry if this is confusing lol, ty
Milo and Malcolm's relationship is... interesting.
I can tell you that they will always wind up together. Kind of those people that are circling. As essentially immortals, they take some breaks at times, come back to each other, etc. However, their relationship, if an MC chooses to kind of view it (and that can be romanced or not) is not quite everything it has been made out to be by Hazel. I think our little witch may have put her brother and best friend on a pedestal. And we can clearly see that she maybe shouldn't have. LOL
I am not sure how slow burn this will be but I think it will go easier if there is the buffer of MC to kind of look at the two of them and point some things out. There are hurt that both these men will not acknowledge and I think MC has a right to kind of poke at this point.
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wyvernne · 2 years
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for reasons wretched and divine
excerpt (in which diluc drinks for the first time)
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tags: Vampire!Diluc Ragnvindr, blood drinking, mature themes, explicit content
total word count: 69.9k
warnings: the full story contains graphic depictions of violence, mentions of starvation, self harm, and other mature themes
“Please try to refrain yourself from leaving such vulgar depictions on my work,” Diluc chides.
You grin. So he found them. “You have no taste for artistry.”
“I enjoy art perfectly well,” he tuts. “But I doubt my customers would appreciate your little additions to their order forms.”
You laugh, tilting your head back against the sofa. It’s a wonder that he still entertains your banter even after so long here. He’s got a quick tongue and a quicker wit, and it never fails to keep you amused. As your laugh dies hopelessly in your throat, the message from the day prior flits back into your mind.
The Church is a constant, looming presence. It’s all too easy to try and forget your duties while you’re here, however briefly, but the reality is that they will come calling, and you don’t have the answers they’re looking for.
“Diluc,” you mutter. He pauses his writing.
“Hm?”
“I want you to drink from me,” you croak, blindsiding Diluc. “Right now.”
Diluc sucks in a wheezing breath, eyes wide. For a moment you’re sure he’s going to say no again, and the constant, never-ending hesitation between you will continue indefinitely. He shifts, eyes flashing.
Diluc moves so quickly that you can’t even process it, suddenly up out of his seat and kneeling in front of you. He grips the edge of the couch next to your head, eyes gleaming. “Say it again.”
You tilt your head to the side, pulling your collar down with a single finger. The both of you are utterly exposed like this, Diluc pressing you into the back of the couch in the middle of the manor, one knee settled between your legs.
“Drink.” is all you can manage. There’s a pause, a breath, and then his fangs are sinking into your neck. The noise you make is inhuman, hand sliding up to his hair.
You barely have time to register the pain before overwhelming numbness and pleasure floods through you, your mouth falling open at the feeling.
The indescribable sensation that thrums through your body has your toes curling, fingers tangling in Diluc’s hair. It’s all you can do to pet at him, coax him into drinking more, more, more.
Your breath catches in your throat, body going lax just at the feeling of your blood pulsing into his mouth, that hot, near unbearable suction firm on your neck. A strange, buzzing numbness spreads through your body. It almost feels as though you’ve been drugged, soft and pliable in Diluc’s grasp. You can faintly hear the sound of him swallowing, one hand releasing from the back of the sofa to support your lolling head.
Each throbbing suck is accompanied by dizzying pleasure. It’s hard to focus, like this, everything narrowing down to Diluc and the desperate noises he’s making against your skin. You know some part of you should be frightened, laying your life in the hands of a man who could suck you dry in minutes. But you’re not.
The idea in itself is a little startling. You’re willingly letting a vampire, the man you were sent to kill, drink your blood. You doubt you’d regret it, even now, if Diluc decided to take your life. He can have it all.
Your thoughts all feel half-formed, distant. Diluc presses closer, strangely warm for a vampire. The feeling of him helps to anchor you. Diluc, Diluc, Diluc, Diluc.
He hums against you in response. You weren’t even aware that you were saying his name out loud.
There’s a clatter a ways away, a door slamming shut. One of the maids must’ve walked in. You can’t dwell on it for long, not when Diluc’s other hand lets go of the edge of the couch to tug your shirt down further.
Your hand slips from his hair, hanging limply by your side, the strength all but gone from your limbs. The slick, wet sounds he’s making are almost too much to bear, his tongue slipping against your skin as he drinks. It’s so hard to think. You wonder, belatedly, if it’s as good for Diluc as it is for you.
It must be, judging by the low sounds he’s making in his throat, caught between a moan and a growl.
Your body mirrors his like a shadow, that dizzying, heady pleasure sending shivers down your spine. You can feel him trembling against you.
It’s really no wonder that there are humans who willingly dedicate themselves as food to vampires, not when it feels like this. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced. You barely feel him pull away, panting against your skin.
Diluc. You try to say his name but it comes out jumbled, slurred. He shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw.
Diluc has hardly had his fill, crimson smeared across his mouth and chin, but you can’t seem to get the words out. He whispers something, something you can’t quite catch, and gathers you into his arms with ease, sidestepping the scattered teacups.
You close your eyes, letting your head rest against his chest. The lack of a heartbeat should be somewhat jarring, but it’s difficult enough to focus on the sound of Diluc’s voice as he says something to you, much less ponder the lack of activity from his heart.
You can still feel the warm, thick trickle of blood down your neck, staining your collar and likely Diluc’s own shirt. What a waste of expensive silk.
You don’t open your eyes even when you’re set down, his warm tongue licking over the bite once again. You try to form words, to tell him that he can drink more, can drink and drink and drink until he’s satiated and full.
It comes out as a garbled mess, hardly anything more than a whimper. He quiets you once more, hands soothing over your body. The feeling of his touch distracts you from anything you were trying to say.
Warm. That’s the only way to describe him. You cling to that word, turning it over in your mind. He’s warm. It seems contradictory to everything a vampire is, but he kisses your neck again and the idea stakes its claim. Yes, Diluc is warm.
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It takes a long time after your eyes open to realize that you’re awake. The world still feels strange and foggy, those lingering effects of being bitten by a vampire muddling your thoughts and slowing your limbs. You turn your head, with mustered effort, to see Diluc reading by the bedside.
His gaze shoots up at the movement.
“Does it hurt anywhere?” he frets, setting his book down. You slide your hand up to your neck languidly, where it’s neatly bandaged.
“Isn’t this a little excessive?” you ask, pressing down over the bite. It’s a little sore, but otherwise doesn’t hurt.
“No. Vampire saliva is an anticoagulant. It makes... drinking easier. It also makes it easier to bleed out before you know what hit you.”
You stretch. He didn’t let you die last night, then. How thoughtful of him. “Mm... how long was I asleep?”
Diluc looks away guiltily. “Half a day.”
“Does it usually feel like that? Having your blood sucked, I mean,” you ask, watching him with mild curiosity. His brow is furrowed, that familiar frown creeping back onto his face, just the corner of his mouth twitching downwards. It’s a little endearing, how he looks like a child being scolded for snatching a dessert from the kitchen. He has an unexpected cute side.
“No,” he mutters, pulling the blanket up higher over your shoulders, “The first time is always more severe.”
He’s experienced. Of course he is. Stupid. “So you’ve drunk from others, then?”
He glowers. “It is not my first time.”
There’s an ugly pang of jealousy in your chest, but it surprises you more than anything. You have no right to be any sort of jealous over the things Diluc chooses to do. He’s not your lover. You’re not even really friends— you’re colleagues, at best.
“Don’t make that face,” he grumbles, “It wasn’t like that.”
“Like what?” you press, desperate to distract yourself. “Was it different when you drank from me?”
“You ask too many questions.” He’s starting to fidget with his hands, not even aware of how blatantly it gives him away.
“And you never give me any answers. Are all vampires this obstinate?”
Diluc sighs. “My nanny, from when I was young, was the first human I drank from. She was like a mother to me, so please don’t misunderstand,” he sulks. “I was starving, withering away without food. I was biting myself to stave off the hunger.”
Biting. Your mind flashes back to the night you pulled him from the tub. It must’ve taken everything in him not to drain you dry back then.
“Since then, it’s only been my liegemen.” He pauses, then adds, “Platonically. I wasn’t expecting such a reaction from you.”
Reaction. It felt good, certainly. More than good. But it wasn’t just the inherent gratification of the blood sucking that has you desperate for him. It’s him. Diluc is like a drug to you, intoxicating and tempting but he never gives you the full dose, never lets you drown in the pleasure of him.
“You can be a little more selfish, Diluc.” So he was starving himself, after all. Out of fear of hurting others? Or out of disgust?
He grits his teeth. “This isn’t a matter of selflessness.”
“It feels like you’re punishing yourself for something.” You jolt at your own words. It was clumsy of you to speak without thinking, and your face burns with the shame of it. How tactless.
“It’s nothing so dramatic,” he replies easily, side stepping your words with practiced grace. You twist your fingers in the sheets. Anyone could see it. He exudes that aura of loneliness.
“Don’t hold yourself back. I’ll give you as much of me as you wish.” These are just sweet, empty words, you tell yourself. A small comfort.
He smiles amicably. It’s uncharacteristic, and a little startling, but the pang in your heart has you breathless. “How dare a monster such as myself covet you?”
“Like I said, be a little more selfish,” you say quietly. It’s all you can manage. There are no words that you could say that would take that sad expression away from his face.
This unfamiliar, vulnerable state between the two of you is making your heart pound. It’s a dangerous game that you’re playing, especially given the circumstances of your presence within the manor. Everything is in good fun until...
Until it’s not. Until you’ve gone too far.
You’re starting to fear that you already have.
“Diluc,” you begin, uncertain. You’re both teetering on dangerous ground, now. A strange expression crosses his face. He taps the book over your eyes, blocking your vision.
“Diluc, what—“ Something soft presses against your lips. It’s— He’s kissing you. Diluc is kissing you. His hand slips to your neck, thumbing at the bandage, pulling you closer. A kiss has never felt like this, sending heat through your body at such a simple touch.
He pulls away, and the book drops away from your eyes.
“Was that a ‘thank you’ kiss?” you ask, breathless.
“It was a kiss,” he replies, clearly embarrassed.
There’s a flush high on his cheeks, the tips of his ears as rosy as his eyes. You lean forward, flitting that line of temptation. Seeing him like this, he hardly seems like a being who has watched a century and a half pass before him.
But he’s warm, his lips soft and lush and so fucking addicting it makes you dizzy.
Diluc meets you halfway, one arm braced against the edge of the bed, and kisses you again. You’re both playing with something dangerous, slipping into that murky middle ground between distance and lust. But these kisses are anything but platonic, despite being relatively chaste. There’s nothing better than kissing Diluc, than the knowledge that this brilliant, beautiful man is seeking you out, learning the feeling of your lips and the taste of your skin, as eager for you as you are for him.
He draws back, presses a kiss to your forehead, and stands. “Try to rest a little more.”
The feeling of his lips on yours lingers long after the door clicks shut behind him. You press your fingers to your mouth, chasing the fading heat.
Diluc is warm.
Read full fic on AO3 | Additional excerpt
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creamymilkk · 2 years
Text
📞♡ “Vance Hopper x Reader” ♡📞
༉‧₊˚ #Vance x F!reader 
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𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .
█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒𝟐𝟎%
███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒𝟓𝟎%
█████▒▒▒▒▒𝟕𝟎%
███████▒▒▒𝟏𝟎𝟎%
██████████ 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞
. ˚₊ ꒱ Pairing/Pairings: Vance Hopper
and Reader.
༉‧₊˚ -Format: sneak peek;3
× &﹕Summary: just a little short peek on what I’m working on!
×﹕♺ AUTHOR’S NOTE(S): requests: OPEN
Read the full version.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵  ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
Vance always thought there was something very interesting with that one girl. Sure many girls always had fall in love with him because of his lovely blonde curly hair, his beautiful blue ocean eyes that were always hard to read. Then of course, the way he will always pick a fight with anyone. No matter where or who they are. The way he truly never cared who he was fighting. Everyone knew him. With all that, surely he could talk to a girl? Nope. he could never talk to you. Sure he will stare at you and maybe… stare at you whenever you are near him. In class, in the hallways, in the lunch area, even when walking home. He was just… like loves you. I mean could you really blame him? It’s you. He loved everything about you. The way you’re beautiful and silky smooth hair shines underneath the sun, that beautiful smile you have god… that smile can always make his somewhat cold heart just warm up, the way your hips always swing right and left when you walk, not to mention how sweet and kind you were. You were perfect in his eyes. Vance isn’t the type to think about all that “cheesy” stuff. He just couldn’t help it, you were truly his dream girl… but he always thought a girl like you. Will NEVER like a guy like him. Though… there’s always a small part of him that maybe you two had a future together…
......
You on the other hand, you always see Vance. I mean everyone in town knew who he was, he always gets into a fight. You already knew how he had girls drooling all over him. Oddly enough, you never saw him go out with a girl. Which just seemed weird to you.. I mean he does look like the type that will know.. just go out with girls every. Single. Day. Just like the other girls, you also had a tiny huge crush on Vance. I mean could you really not find him somewhat attractive? You loved everything about him. Though luckliy, Vance and you do live pretty close so you will always see him outside of school. Which for you is such an amazing opportunity to see how handsome he was. If he ever found out that you always look forward to seeing him. You think he would find you weird. Probably he already thinks that you’re a weirdo. I mean you already knew that there’s no way that Vance is the type of guy that will like a girl like you. But a girl can dream…
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twstbookclub · 11 months
Text
Adronitis
Summary: Deuce met you once, and he thought that was the end of that. Until, he bumps into you twice in two different occasions. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Third Time’s the Charm, Puppy Love (if you squint), Slow Burn with an open ending, Deuce Spade being an Awkward Sweetie, Romance, Fluff, MC is not the Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu Word Count: 1, 554
i’m alive lmao. finals are over, so i have the chance to post this. it’s been in my drafts for months, and i finished this while nursing a stomachache ;; this isn’t proofread, by the way.
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Deuce first met you during club hours. He didn’t think much of you, not when he’s focused on becoming an honor student that’d make his mother proud. Your first meeting didn’t unfold like a romance drama. There were no cherry blossoms drifting in the breeze. Time didn’t slow down nor freeze when your eyes met. His heart didn’t pound so much that it’d jump out of his chest. It felt like any ordinary day in Night Raven College minus his shenanigans with the Ramshackle Prefect, of course.
If anything, it started with a water bottle.
Sweat dripped down Deuce’s jaw, slightly gaping due to his tired panting. With his hands on his knees, he watched the salty droplet fall to the ground as he gathered his bearings. The sun seemed harsher today, glaring down at the runners in the field. Deuce heard some of his clubmates groaning about the sweltering heat, either in loud complaints or hushed curses.
Water. I need water, was all Deuce could think at the time.
As if someone read his mind, a water bottle dangled in front of his eyes. Deuce blinked in disbelief, then his gaze trailed from the hand holding the miracle to another vaguely familiar face. You stood there with a lopsided smile and a hand on your hip. Under the blinding afternoon sun, you seemed like a guardian angel that descended in the middle of a desert.
“You look like you need it more than I do,” you chuckled. Once Deuce took your offer, you shot him another smile and continued on your way. The grime and sweat from all the running didn’t bother Deuce. The cold water bottle soothing his dry throat and hot skin didn’t deter him either.
Deuce just watched you run with a curious gaze.
The second time the Heartslabyul freshman saw you, Deuce had bumped into you in the cafeteria. A special menu came up, so the area was more crowded than usual. Students argued and dragged each other away from the line. Some snuck and cut into the queue in hopes of getting to the limited-time menu early. No matter where you went, you’d always bump into arms and elbows. He almost got hit on the neck by someone else’s elbow when Ace dragged him through the masses.
Deuce spied some guys trading lunch while another pair started a fist fight. Although, that ended when Jack lifted the boys by the collars; like a mother cat scolding her kittens. It was pandemonium, and Grim hasn’t even started making a ruckus. One pair even started fighting with magic until his housewarden collared them with his signature spell.
Honestly, that was dumb of them, but that’s not the focus right now.
He already found out some things about you at this point. You’re a freshman, just like him, and you joined Track and Field—again, just like him. Although, that’s where the similarities ended.
You didn’t attract too much attention. You didn’t seem to cause any trouble, which is rare in an all-boys school filled with the most rambunctious and rebellious students. With so many students attending NRC, you were just another face in the crowd. It was no wonder Deuce hadn’t noticed you until that day.
“Oh!” You beamed, another water bottle in hand. “It’s you! Um, Deuce, right?”
“Yeah,” Deuce stiffly nodded, feeling a bit awkward at his friends’ stares, “You’re part of Track and Field, too, right?”
Your name smoothly rolled off his tongue, like honey dripping into tea. Another huge smile graced your lips as your eyes shone brighter. Deuce felt his heart stutter at your change in demeanor. The ground under his feet felt unstable, which made him a bit dizzy and disoriented.
“I always wanted to run like you,” you sheepishly admitted. A wince from a hit to your side broke Deuce from his trance. “I could go on, but this isn’t the time and place, huh?”
Before he could say anything, Deuce watched you maneuver your way through the crowd with a wave. “I’ll see you around!”
“Merciful Seven,” Ace groaned and checked Deuce on the shoulder as he shoved past him, “Get your goo-goo eyes and head out of the clouds, man! We’re gonna get nothing at this rate!”
“Huh? What’d ya say?!” Deuce growled, chasing after the redhead. “Come back here, you punk!”
He could vaguely hear the Ramshackle Prefect exasperatedly sigh and call for them. Grim choked out an annoyed scream from behind. As the noise and jostle of the crowd consumed Deuce’s senses, the image of your bright expression seared itself into his mind.
The third time, he found you in the courtyard on his way to Sam’s shop. Deuce saw you fiddling with something as you muttered to yourself. Your fingers twisted a tiny key lodged into a mahogany box with gentle precision. Your tongue poked out of your lips as your eyebrows scrunched together. Deuce noticed that you’ve always made that face whenever you ran in the field. He just knew that the world around you didn’t exist whenever it happened. Not even the harsh heat stopped you.
“Hey Deuce!”
He almost flinched at your voice. Smiling, you patted the spot beside you on the grass, then returned to fiddling with the contraption. It was a music box, Deuce realized. It was an antique music box with some scratches and dust. The tiny thing had seen better days.
Wait, how did he end up in front of you? Better yet, when did he go off the path towards you?
“Hey, uh, what’s that you’re holding?”
… It’s obviously a music box. Why did I ask that? Deuce thought, nearly smacking himself in the face at how stupid he sounded. If Ace could hear him right now, he’d be cackling and howling til his stomach hurt the next morning. He could just imagine the mischievous smirk on the Prefect’s face while Grim snickered behind their legs.
Embarrassing would be an understatement.
“Oh, this?” You chuckled, and Deuce felt his heart almost burst out of his chest. “It’s a music box. I had Sam fix it up for me, so I’m checking if it works like before.”
Your smile faltered, replaced by a melancholic expression, as your gaze lingered on the tiny contraption. Deuce quietly sat beside you, who still stared at the music box. The frown on your face and the dull look in your eyes were something foreign to him. For some reason, Deuce didn’t like seeing you this way, much less feel this sad.
“My mom gave me this.” Your voice was nothing but a tiny whisper as your thumb traced a scratch on the box. “It’s the last thing I have of her, so… I hope it works.”
Deuce felt like he had been punched in the gut. The image of his own mother—dark circles under her eyes and calluses on her once smooth hands; crying into the phone about her delinquent son; smiling as she tells him how proud she is of him—flashed in his mind. His heart sank at the thought of a life without her. He can only imagine the pain and sorrow you felt at the moment.
“I’m sorry.” Before he could think about it, Deuce clapped a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. His lips were pressed in a thin line as your eyes met his. What else could you even tell someone who’s grieving over a deceased loved one, especially when the wound was still fresh?
You stared at Deuce for a bit, then the corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile. You huff as your hand squeezed his, the one on your shoulder. Deuce noticed that you had a firm grip despite your unassuming demeanor. He admired your smile, lips moving to answer him with a heartfelt, “Thanks.”
Nothing else disturbed the peaceful silence between the two of you. Even though it was peaceful, Deuce felt restless. He wanted to talk more; wanted you to share more about yourself. That tidbit about your mother made his heart hurt, but he wanted more. All of your attention returned to the music box, and he didn’t know what else to say. That antique clearly meant a lot to you. He should leave you to it.
But, for some reason, Deuce couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Even if Riddle threatened to collar him right now, he’d choose to stay next to you.
“It works!” Your voice brought him back to reality. A lullaby, one that he heard of as a child, rang in the air. The wind-up key slowly turned as the music box played its tune. Then, Deuce’s attention drifted to you.
The grin that stretched across your face and the sparkle in your eyes made the former delinquent’s heart lurch. He couldn’t look away from you, even when you turned to look at him with that huge grin. The world seemed to fade away. Your voice was muffled, and your words seemed to go into one ear and out of the other. His cheeks burned the longer he looked at you. As you excitedly marveled about the music box working, Deuce only thought of one thing.
Ace was going to have a field day once he figured out that Deuce has a crush.
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mocha166 · 3 months
Text
Donut shop
Enid x  gn! Reader
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(Tw:None?, Fluff)
Donut shop
All week,Enid had been talking about taking you and the group to this new Donut shop in town called, “Sweet Dreams” and finally Saturday rolled around and you guys got to leave the school to enjoy your time off. Enid,Jax,Wednesday and the others piled into the car as you drove to the little town,as you parked in front of an antique shop,the group got out and headed inside the shop(under enid’s leadership) as they walked into the vintage looking bakery.The owner greeted them as they explained their grand opening donuts and prices Enid looked excitedly at the specialty called “Unicorn Delight”, she pulled out of her money as she looked at you smiling, “Whatcha thinking about getting, (y/n)?”, You smiled looking back at the board, “ummm,probably (insert fav donut).” Enid looked at the donut of your choice and smiled when it was her turn she got her donut and soon everyone was enjoying their donuts sitting on top of your car. The group thanked Enid for the sweet treat idea as they parted ways to go and enjoy their time out before it was time to go back to the school but you stayed,Enid wanted to hang out with you and see what you liked to do on your day out. As you made your way over to your favorite cafe to get something to wash down the donut you just had,you noticed Enid had unintentionally grabbed your hand as you walked into the cafe you felt your heart beat fast as you held your friend’s hand. You ordered your usual and made your way to the town’s park. It was evening time now and the sun made the sky look a orangish pink color as it set,Enid looked impressed that you knew good spots as you sat on a bench facing he sun to enjoy the view, you sipped your drink as you listened to Enid gossip about the school’s latest gossip. You didn’t really care about the whole gossip thing but you enjoyed listening to her talk her facial expressions,hand gestures and voice just made your heart warm instead. As Enid finished you grabbed her hand and looked at her fresh set of nails, “These suit you.” Enid blushed slightly thanking you as she scooted closer to you, “You know I enjoy spending time with you.”, she said softly as she looked at you with her pretty blue eyes and adorable smile,you smiled as you tilted your head, “Same here,your so fun to talk to.” As you two got comfortable your phone buzzed and hers did too. It was the gang,they were ready to go as you two made your way back to your car you held her hand gently. The drive back was normal but as Enid sat in the front you looked over noticing her smile a little warmer than before you could tell she was thinking about the time you two had together and you did too.
(Writer’s note: I really hope you enjoy sorry if it seems repetitive or a little wonky this is my first fanfic of Enid Sinclair I’d absolutely love any tips for future fanfics!)
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dominimoonbeam · 1 year
Text
Scars That Remind - 11
This is me slow burning. Have I mentioned I’m not good at slow burning? So many FEELINGS in this fic! I love writing it and I hope you enjoy the update. <3
This AU has covered a lot of ground and now we’re into the Sam/Darlin part!
tags: fallout of abusive relationship, Quinn is a monster, fake relationship, mentions of non-con biting, protective David
Scars That Remind - 11
posted here but also over on ao3.
The way they’d said it, like it was nothing and they didn’t care. And the way he saw right through it. Their panicked heartbeat slammed his senses but he didn’t react. They were offering to play a role to lure a killer. They were offering to trust him even though they had no reason to. And they were so desperately trying to convince themselves that they weren’t scared and they didn’t care. Who was he to fuck with that?
So, Sam had smiled and made light of something that felt huge. He pressed close without ever touching, looked them dead in the eye, and asked for their safe word.
Darlin had stared and then laughed like it was a joke. That alone told him a lot, but he didn’t dwell on it just yet. He kept a soft smile and waited patiently.
“Oh, seriously? I mean, I’d just shove you off if—”
“Isn’t the point to look like we like each other?” He squeezed the bars of the railing on either side of them but didn’t let anything show on his face. He had always been pretty good at keeping a straight face. It was important to be able to keep people calm while patching them up. And it was important as a vampire to be able to keep prey from running, he supposed.
Darlin blinked, seeming to try to imagine it. They nodded slowly. “Okay… Yeah. So, like a secret word so you know you’re about to get punched?”
They were trying to make jokes out of it and he wasn’t going to take that from them. “That is sort of what a safe word is, yes…”
Darlin chewed their lip.
He watched, worrying about that scar there again. How many scars did they have? Would he find out? No. He tried to stop his thoughts from running wild. No. This was just going to be for public show. “Maybe something that could fit into conversation?”
Darlin nodded, still thinking.
They’d never had a safe word, he realized. He supposed not everyone would, but they’d been with a vampire. Sam had had a safe word when he was with Alexis… and that had not been his first safe word. Not that it had done him any good in the end.
He pushed that thought away. This wasn’t that and he would not so easily disregard someone’s will.
“How about ‘home’ or something like that? Like, I can say that I want to go home or ask you to take me home.”
It was a good idea. It would be subtle and even give them an out to leave the club. But as soon as the words actually flew from their mouth he saw their pulse jump, the idea really striking home, and could almost hear the blood rushing up their neck to their cheeks.
Sam nodded slowly. “That’ll work fine. Use it whenever you want things to stop. For any reason.”
Darlin stared back at him like they weren’t sure if he was serious or if it was a trick. Why would it be a trick? How could it be a trick? Warning bells went off in his head but he ignored them. If he didn’t play this role, would they really find some other vampire to do it? How would that go? Would they bother to get a safe word? Would they care if Darlin couldn’t go through with the plans?
He pushed those thoughts away when his teeth ached. The last thing he needed was to scare them. Though he was almost certain the wolf would pretend they weren’t scared—might even convince themself they weren’t.
But they should be.
He couldn’t imagine them with Quinn. He’d only met the man the one night, when his face was slick with blood and his lips twisted into a grin as he stepped over the near-dead bodies of Fred and Bright. Quinn was a killer, remorseless and cruel. How had this wolf ended up with him? And why hadn’t he killed them yet? Why did he come back?
Sam’s gaze flicked to their neck again—to the signature of fangs on skin.
Darlin huffed and turned a little, pivoting those scars away and seeming to offer the view of their other side instead. Sam looked. It was almost strange to see so much unmarked skin on them. There was a small bruise near their jaw and a thin scar running almost diagonal toward their collar. It actually looked like a smaller version of the one he had on his side. “How did you get this one?” he asked, surprising them both.
Their hand came up, finger tapping the thin line. Their expression softened, smile gone. “Car accident.”
Sam let go of the railing on either side of them, straightening in surprise. It was a simple enough answer, but it jolted something curious in his chest. He remembered skidding tires, crunching metal, and the struggle to get air that wasn’t full of blood. Car accident.
“You okay, Sammy?” Darlin asked.
He almost laughed. “Yeah. Let me drive you home and we can talk about our next date?”
He heard their pulse jump again, but they hid it well enough. It must have been so easy for Quinn to read them. He led them to where he’d parked and opened the passenger door for them. They looked at him curiously, smile quirking in the corner of their mouth before they hopped in.
 -
 They tried not to get ahead of themself but it was harder and harder not to imagine a life without Quinn. A life where there wasn’t the looming threat of his return. They’d become so used to it, that they’d never really let themself think about what it had meant—what it had done even when he was gone.
They had friends now but they never hung out with them outside of school activities. They never went to movie nights or game nights. Never invited any of them over to their place or mentioned the extra rooms they’d thought about renting out even when someone mentioned looking for a place closer to campus. They couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t leave a scent trail that would lead Quinn to someone else.
Now they were leading a trail straight to Sammy. They worried about that sometimes—about Quinn making his return when Darlin wasn’t around. Would he go after the other vampire when he was alone? Or would he want to catch them together for the show of it? Darlin was banking on Quinn making a spectacle. He’d want them to see whatever he did.
They’d been meeting up almost every night that month in different blood clubs. They had beers, talked, danced, and sat close. The other night Sam had looked them in the eye and asked if he could touch them. Their heart nearly jumped out their throat. They’d shrugged like they didn’t care but he’d waited until they said yes.
And then his hand had been on their arm, sliding up. His touch ghosted over the side of their neck, thumb tracing their jaw and then their bottom lip. Somehow it was different than all the contact they’d had on the dance floors. It was slow, despite being so public. He turned their face into his, his lips so close and his eyes still watching, light gathering in those rings of silver. He asked again and they almost jerked back just from the way it made them feel—being asked. They answered and he’d kissed them.
They’d made out in that booth last night until Darlin was practically riding his lap. They thought for sure he’d bite. They’d been bracing for it, for the surprise and the pain. His fangs had been out and his hands all over them. So, why hadn’t he?
Alone, on the subway headed out to meet up with him again, Darlin touched the side of their neck with the scars. Of course, he wouldn’t bite that, but there was the other side, or shoulder, or wrist… They could make this work. They had to if they were going to get Quinn to come back. They kept repeating that to themself to keep from chickening out. They could do this. It couldn’t be worse than Quinn. But at least with Quinn they hadn’t asked for it—hadn’t even seen it coming most of the time.
They met Sammy in front of the club. He flashed an easy smile and they went in together, his hand brushing the small of their back through their shirt. “You okay, Darlin?” he asked over the music, mouth close to their ear.
Darlin blinked. They’d barely even said anything.
He smiled a little at their expression. “You seem…off. If you want to bail, we can go someplace else and talk?”
He was offering them an out on the night, a chance to call this thing they were doing off and have a real conversation—one that they didn’t need to worry about being overheard.
Darlin shook their head stubbornly and led him to the dance floor. Sammy seemed unsure but played along, settling hands on their hips. It took a while, but Darlin eventually got out of their own head and found their way back to that moment, with a stranger that was dangerously close to a friend.
They curled arms around the back of Sammy’s neck, leaning into him.
Maybe they would kiss again tonight? Maybe he’d bite them? Or maybe he wouldn’t and they’d keep doing things soft and slow? Maybe they’d never ask and he’d never have to tell them why he didn’t want to bite them—never have to say they weren’t good enough to even be food? Maybe they could keep playing in this weird dream where they met up with a nice vampire every night just to dance, and talk, and make out.
His hand slid down to their lower back, guiding their body against his in that slow writhing dance. His mouth hovered closer to theirs and they knew he was about to ask if he could touch or kiss, the way he always did when things got this far.
And then Darlin noticed someone familiar at the bar, staring at them.
They froze and the words jumped out of their mouth, “I want to go home.”
Sammy let go of them immediately, leaning back to get a better look at them, his mouth nowhere near kissing let alone biting. “Yeah. Of course,” he said, confused, turning to subtly follow their gaze toward the wolf at the bar.
Christian crossed the club with a grin.
Fuck.
“Really?” he asked, flicking his gaze over Sammy and then back to them. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here, squeaker.”
“Squeaker?” Sammy asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.
Darlin flushed in embarrassment but fought to hide it, focused on glaring Chrissy down instead. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”
Christian laughed. “I’d be careful with that attitude. Wouldn’t want David to find out what you’ve been up to…again.” His smile died and his expression darkened. They saw the amusement bleed away into disgust, his gaze flicking over them again, baldly looking for new marks. “Although, maybe it would finally make him see reason…”
Darlin’s heart clenched but they didn’t show it. He was jabbing at a fear they’d never been able to fully shake—that one day David would realize they were more trouble than they were worth and kick them to the curb. “You’re drunk, Chrissy. Go home before you embarrass yourself.”
He barked a laugh. “That’s rich coming from you, chew toy.”
Darlin winced, lip curling to snap back when suddenly there was someone in front of them—between themself and Christian. “The hell did you just call them?” Sammy asked in that deep southern drawl.
Oh shit.
Christian turned his full attention on Sammy for the first time. Darlin saw him waver in his conviction. They weren’t sure if Christian was deluded enough to have imagined he could actually fight Darlin, but he definitely wasn’t stupid enough to think he could fight a vampire alone. He took a step back but puffed up his chest like that might mask the space taken. “Whatever,” he snarled before turning back to the bar.
Darlin felt relief mixing with humiliation and self-loathing. “Let’s go,” they said, not meeting Sammy’s gaze and heading for the exit. They needed to get out of there before anyone else from the pack showed up, or Chrissy could bait them into a fight. The last thing they needed was to make a scene and a mess.
They sulked a few blocks before realizing that Sammy was still on their heels. They were getting way too comfortable with his presence. They stopped, clawing fingers through their hair. “I’m going to go, okay? I’ll text you later.”
Sammy stayed close. “Darlin…”
Darlin winced. “It was a stupid idea,” they blurted. They didn’t like the mix of feelings tangling in their chest. Nothing felt quite right. They were disappointed and relieved every time he didn’t bite them. Afraid of David finding out what they were doing but still not sorry for it. And now embarrassed that Chrissy had called them chew toy and squeaker in front of Sammy. They shouldn’t care what Sammy thought of them—it wasn’t like he didn’t know they were Quinn’s leftovers. Everyone knew.
“Darlin,” Sammy said again, voice firm now. “It’s not stupid. It’ll work.”
Darlin scoffed. “Sure.”
“Was he from your pack?”
“What?” They turned toward him, looking at him for the first time since Chrissy called them squeaker.
“The asshole at the bar,” Sammy clarified even though he didn’t need to.
Darlin curled a fist and nodded. He was going to tell everyone. David was probably going to have a heart attack. Or…more likely, no one would believe him at all. That was a nice idea.
“That’s where you got that term from? Your pack?”
Darlin blinked, confused before remembering chew toy. It had become squeaker over the years because not everyone realized what he was saying. “No. I mean, yes that’s where I heard it, but it’s not something the pack says, just a couple of them.”
To their surprise, Sammy seemed to consider that for a while before accepting it and calming down a fraction. Why was he so upset? It wasn’t like it wasn’t true. And it wasn’t like he should care.
“I don’t think this is working out,” Darlin said, surprising them both. Their heart beat fast in their chest. It was hard to look at him because when they did, they felt mixed up again. “I’ll find someone else.” A stranger would be better at that point. They could go to a club and get bitten by a stranger. No weird tangle of feelings. No fucked up rejection every time it didn’t happen.
“Who?” Sammy asked, the word snapping past teeth before he could hiss and shake his head. “You can be pissed about getting caught by your pack, possibly embarrassed to be seen with me, and definitely angry at that dumbass in the club, but that don’t mean you should throw what we’re doin’ away or try to punish me for it.”
“Punish you?” they shouted, laughing angrily. Oh, this was good. This felt much better.
“Yes!” he shouted back.
“Fuck you! I’m not embarrassed and I’m not the one pulling the fucking brakes on the plan every night.”
“What are you—”
“You don’t want to bite me, Solaire, and that’s fine. But the longer it takes you to admit it or get up the nerve to do it, the more of my time you’re wasting.” Yes. This felt much better than before. This at least felt like they had some sort of control, like if they could just put everything down in black and white it wouldn’t hurt.
The vampire stared at them for a long moment before finally speaking. “You think I don’t want to bite you.”
 -
 He gawked at this absolute idiot of a wolf. An idiot of a wolf he was increasingly aware he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Darlin groaned loudly. They threw their arms up. “I get it! I told you from the start!”
From the start? The bit where they’d thought he had some delicate sensibilities about biting someone that had been bitten before? That wasn’t a thing. The only reason those scars might have kept other vampires from trying to coax Darlin into a bite would be fear that the claim was still real—that Quinn would take offense. Sam clenched his jaw, trying to fight the ache in his teeth. He did that a lot with Darlin. “You’re scared.”
Darlin jerked to a stop. It was like he’d thrown a bucket of ice water on them. They stared at him, dangerously calm now. Oh. This had definitely changed something.
Had he stumbled on fightin’ words?
Was he sorry or scared? Nope.
“What?” Darlin nearly growled.
Sam cocked his head back. “You’re scared. I can hear it in your pulse when my mouth is close to your neck every time we go out.”
Darlin blinked, surprise taking some of that sudden edge off. “I’m not scared. That’s just…instinct.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s not my first rodeo. You’re not my first bite. Most people that offer their vein are excited. You’re barely willing.”
Darlin straightened. He could practically see their mind turning all of that over. Why was it hard for them to swallow? They had to know they were scared. They shook their head slowly. “So, I’m not into the pain like other people. I said we could do this. You’re the one making a big deal—”
“The pain?” Sam repeated and then felt like the world jerked to a stop around them. He used to spend time in blood clubs when he was human. He had met Alexis in one. The first time he’d gone had been with a few friends from class. They said it was like donating blood but more fun than going to the clinic. They’d been right.
Darlin was staring at him. They were pissed, confused, and vulnerable.
The pain. Their heart rammed their throat like that when his teeth got close because some part of them was bracing for the pain. “You’ve never been bitten by anyone but Quinn?” he asked but he already knew.
Darlin made a face like it was a stupid question. “Of course not.”
Of course not. Because they didn’t like the pain and hadn’t been willing to try with someone else or… “Then why did you let Quinn bite?” Why so many times? Why did he ask when he knew? When it was twisting his guts and breaking his heart.
Darlin stared back at him, annoyance so painfully honest, like they thought he’d known. Like they’d just thought everyone had known. “He…” They started and then stopped, hand twitching at their side like they were fighting the urge to shift. They didn’t take their eyes off him though and he wasn’t sure if it was because they were wary of him, or because they were trying to read him and this situation. “I was young and he was…charming, at first.” They pinched their face at the word, like it was the closest they could get to right but still so far from it. “I can handle pain.”
Sam wished he could sit down. He wished he could swear and break something. But he didn’t dare to move or react so drastically to their shrugged confession. He wasn’t sure they understood what they were saying. Quinn had been charming at first. At first. And what then? Had every return since been a battle? How many of those bite scars came at the end of a long fight? When Darlin couldn’t fight back anymore?
He felt sick. And he’d been stalking them, thinking they were Quinn’s lover—an assumption it seemed just about everyone in Dahlia had made. How much of that had been helped by Quinn’s own whispers spreading through the city? How much was just a narrative that tasted better than the truth?
“I’m sorry, Darlin…”
They jerked a step back like he’d hit them, mouth pinching and eyes narrowing. It was the wrong thing to say, he realized, but it still had to be said. Someone had to fucking say it to them. “What—”
“I’m sorry,” Sam said again, looking right at them. “What he did was wrong. It shouldn’t hurt and it should never be…” He tried not to think about Alexis, about begging her not to bite him, her hands on him, pressing his head to the side to get at his neck. He had felt so helpless and scared. Tears pricked his eyes and his jaw flexed against the strain to not let his fangs out. “He had no right to do that to you. It wasn’t your fault and it isn’t okay.”
They took another step back, eyes growing big and wet but fixed on him like he was possessed.
“I’m sorry for stalking you. That was wrong too. It was another invasion of your personal space and security. And I’m sorry for agreeing to use you like bait to bring him back.” He thought about all the nights they’d spent at the clubs. He’d ended up loving that time spent with them. They were funny and so deeply wild and alive. He’d let himself use this whole plan to be close to them—enjoyed having his hands on them and their hands on him. At some point, he hadn’t been kissing them to lure in Quinn anymore and that hadn’t been right either. “You are not bait, Darlin. You are not a chew toy or a blood bag or any other fucked up thing someone has spit at you. You’re strong and kind. You’re a good student and a better friend. You’re a nightmare and a dream rolled into one person. Fuck everyone who ever made you think otherwise.” He watched tears well in their eyes against their will, rolling down their cheeks as they staggered back another step from him and his words. “I’m not going to use you anymore, but he will come, and I will kill him this time.”
Darlin exhaled hard, like he’d sucker punched them, and then they finally snapped. They shifted and bolted.
Sam stood there and watched them go, disappearing into the night along the river.
He stayed a few more minutes, alone, thinking about everything that had happened. Not just that night, but since the first night he met Quinn. He’d been looking for him out of vengeance before, bolstering his morals with the promise of stopping Quinn from hurting others. Now he needed to stop him before he got to Darlin again. How many times had they gone toe to toe with Quinn?
He dragged a hand through his head and turned away, heading back toward his truck. His steps were slow. He had nowhere he wanted to be now that he’d effectively chased them off.
The vampire stopped short of reaching his truck, keys still in his pocket.
The man leaning against the hood pushed off.
David Shaw was a big man.
Sam nodded slowly. That seemed about right, but it also pissed him off. Where had Shaw been when Quinn was in town? How had this happened? It wasn’t fair, he knew, even as he thought it, but it was hard not to flash fangs at the wolf.
“We need to talk,” David said, his voice gravel and contempt.
“Do we?” Sam retorted. He knew it wasn’t a good idea but he was done having good ideas that night.
“I know you’ve been looking for Quinn. I know you’ve asked around about him…and about Darlin, long before what happened last month. Are you going to tell me it’s a coincidence you’re in their life? That you were at the warehouse the other night? That you’ve been taking them out just about every night since?”
Sam could have lied. He didn’t owe this man anything, but he didn’t want to lie. He wanted to pay. “I was at the warehouse because I’d been stalkin’ them since the night he left town. And I’ve taken them to every blood club in Dahlia in hopes of making Quinn come back for them in a jealous fit.” He saw the honest surprise on the other man’s face, followed by a second of doubt that Sam did not deserve. He was not lying. He was not too good to do any of those things. But he was too good to keep doing it—too good to let it go to shit—too good to lie about it now.
David moved faster than a man that size had any right to.
He moved fast enough even to surprise a vampire.
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she-could-never · 6 months
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Getting so excited to send a cute lil tiktok to the pretty person who sends me cute tiktoks
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a-small-safe-place · 5 months
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His Haven Pt. 3
Part 1 Part 2
Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader
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Homelander had arrived at your office earlier than your usual meeting time. You had asked him to be there around an hour earlier than your scheduled session. He was putting on a fake smile; he was always good at that. Homelander thought he knew what was happening. You were dropping him as a client. You had to be. You had all but threatened it the last time he came to your house when he was desperate for someone to talk to or even just be around. When his reflection was saying things that were beyond harsh and his penthouse felt a little too empty. Even if you did drop him as a client, he didn’t plan on going anywhere, but it bothered him that you would have even tried.
Homelander stepped into the office without knocking, like he always did. He knew that bothered you, but he didn’t need to knock. It was obvious to him when someone else was in the room, and you would not be dumb enough to book someone over his time with you. He immediately noticed your heart beating faster and the stink of adrenaline all over your body. You were afraid. The smell of adrenaline was fresh, so that meant one thing: you were afraid of him.
Homelander took his seat across from you. You smiled a fake smile before asking, “How are you today?” He wanted to gripe about you, tell you that you had no reason to be afraid of him right now, tell you that even if you tried to drop him as a client, he wasn’t leaving. “Fine,” is all he says with an irritated tone. “What’s so important that I had to be here an hour before our meeting? You know I’m a busy man,” he scolds. Your heart rate spikes.
“Well, we’ve been having some issues with boundaries. Usually, I discuss these things in our first meeting, but since my contract with The Seven was a unique experience, I hadn’t bothered to have a boundaries talk with any of you, at least not an in-depth one.” After you finish talking, Homelander relaxes a bit. You weren’t trying to get rid of him. It was a relief. He figured since you were human; you probably didn’t notice the change in his demeanor, but in reality, it was a very noticeable change. He was like a feral cat finally calming down enough to eat or drink.
“Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries,” Homelander mocks a bit. “Is that all you doctors want to talk about? I thought you wanted to talk about me?”
“This is about you. It’s about both of us,” you counter. He stands back up and begins pacing a bit with his hands behind his back. “Look, we need to have boundaries. They are important. In our first session, I said that I am here for you, and I cannot be here for you if we have no boundaries. If these boundaries continue to be pressed, then I will recommend you to another psychiatrist, one that will be better suited to your needs.” It’s obvious this pisses him off enough that his mask drops. Homelander’s already thin lips flatten into a line of a scowl. At first, his eyes widen a bit, clearly shocked at your sudden assertiveness, but then narrowing somewhat out of anger. He is not looking at you. He’s looking in your direction but pointedly avoiding you or maybe looking through you. Homelander seems to be lost in thought or as if he has suddenly begun to disassociate.
“So you are dropping me?” he finally says. His voice is flat, and his eyes are somewhat glassy. “No. I am still your psychiatrist. We will just be working on our boundaries. It’s my fault. I should have discussed this with you the minute I realized we would be meeting regularly, and I should not have been so indulgent, but that stops now. We will both be good, okay? And you can continue to be my patient. But there will be no time for us outside of this office, and you will quit showing up at my house or following me home. I know you are lonely, but I cannot fill that loneliness as your psychiatrist. I can help you understand why you are having those feelings, but I cannot fix them.” You speak with a confidence that Homelander has never seen from you. He likes this attitude you have.
He ponders it for a moment before sitting back down. Homelander thinks he can make this work, for now. He will still get to see you and visit your house while you’re out. You’re still his. “Okay, I’ll behave,” Homelander says in a way that borders on pride and flirting. He feels somewhat proud of you for being so assertive with you, even if he’s not a huge fan of the outcome.
He knows you will come around eventually, and when you do, he will be waiting with a dinner reservation and the mirror on the ceiling of his bedroom freshly cleaned.
Tag list: @demodemo909 @misadventures0fdes
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aleswift07 · 2 years
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Happiness comes from... yeah, yeah, you know what happiness REALLY comes from? Having a ship for every trope
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iwillbiteyourknees · 1 year
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So im thinking of making a story about a male oc i created (but you can just imagine your own character) he is basically a soldier on a special military force that kills people who are infected with a deadly fungus that gives the host a super-natural power they also live in small dimension pockets all around the world. The male oc is like Y/N who has a shit ton of love interests but hes gonna be a strong and independent person but also fun and quirky. I might draw the characters that will be in this story but who knows. I might also try to make it as logical as possible but also still keep it fictional. There might be some smut. The side characters will have their own personality and thoughts on the Male oc. I wanna write it but i also need to know if people are willing to read it lmao.
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discoscoob · 1 year
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I watched a walk in the clouds the other day and my expectations of men has once again been raised to impossible standards.
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uefb · 1 year
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Today was unproductive and stressful so I coped by rewriting 2k words and adding 2k more to a section of my long fic, which now includes this [excerpted] note from a rather well-medicated, currently non-speaking [and admittedly traumatized] Newt to a regrettably sober [and also admittedly traumatized] Tina, in 1935 (if it ends up making the final cut, of course — I’ve been doing a lot of shuffling of scenes lately)
Intro to the note excerpt:
But she woke, herself, to the smell of coffee three hours later instead. Newt was still asleep against her, but with a pen abandoned in his lap and the battered field notebook they’d salvaged from his coat limp in his hand, clearly indicating he’d woken at some point and managed to gain someone's attention. She blinked herself fully awake and watched the outline of Jacob solidify in a chair across from her. She looked from him to Newt and back again, but her brother-in-law only shrugged and handed her a cup of coffee, before nodding at the page pinned beneath Newt’s scarred and freckled hand.
It was messily written—he’d clearly struggled to do it with his left—though there was evidence of a very clumsy attempt at spelling it tidy (and even more evidence he’d given up on the nonverbal, wandless magic halfway through in—what she guessed was—exhausted frustration).
She tugged it gently away from him and shifted herself into the chair beside the bed, sipping coffee as she read.
Note excerpt:
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Also this grossness later (and yes — we go hard with creature metaphors in this house and we lean so hard into Newt-as-writer):
I think perhaps you are the fire within which i am inspired to keep myself alive. Burning bright until the light goes out, doing anything to keep you my home
*gag* but also I resonate with nerd!Newt on a spiritual level in case that’s unclear
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hitchhikeress · 1 year
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I am really really enjoying watching Crash Course in Romance on Netflix! ❤️
I can’t handle the wait for getting more episodes!!! Aaaahhhhhhhh!
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