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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

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Curious Travels - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader

- reader is part of my Of Monsters and Men series

Summary: Yet again has your humble bard dragged you and Geralt to another kingdom for whatever reason, though as the snow falls outside, you know just how to keep warm.

Warning: fluff, SMUT, some actual plot

Masterlist

Jumping off of your own horse you’re immediately greeted with the soft crunch of snow under your boots. Your pack of three mighty adventures have traveled all this way to the wintery mountainside kingdom of Turga for, as Jaskier would say, “food, festivities, and fun times to be had”. Not being one to ever walk away from such intriguing tidings, you’ve made it a point to accompany Jaskier on his trek to the kingdom.

Geralt on the other hand could absolutely not be bothered in the slightest to come for such “fun times to be had” but he loves you and begrudgingly decided to follow the two of you anyways.

The whole ordeal of traveling had taken about a week, through forest and fields, streams to pass and bridges to cross, until finally at last your horses had reached snow. And more importantly the wooden post naming the direction of said mountain kingdom, causing your bard to become even more chipper and talkative then usual.

Much to your amusement and Geralt’s silent moody frustration, though he would have liked to smack the bard across his head or quite possibly snap that lute in two. Watching your face light up at Jaskier’s jokes and stories from before he met both you and Geralt, so far has kept the grumbly Witcher to himself, just being able to see your beaming face is enough to make this trip all the better.

Though he’s still doubtful anything fantastic will actually come out of this journey in any way, considering most travels with the two of you end rather poorly.

You’re eyes grew big once they spotted the snowy glowing city of Turga sitting comfortably atop a silver hill in all her beautiful glory. Jaskier wasn’t fooling, this place is absolutely magnificent, it’s like a true winter wonderland.

Great evergreens stand tall at the large wooden gates of the town, two guards dressed in silver armor and a red sash over their breast greet you three with generous smiles of welcome tidings that take you more off center then you’d ever expected. How strange it is not to be looked down upon, or scrutinized by people who always tend to think the worst.

Jaskier simply grins, clearly knowing something you and your grouchy Witcher do not, but what could that possibly be, then again it isn’t exactly abnormal. Following closely behind, you and Geralt lead your horses along the snow covered streets as Jaskier leads the way to the stables.

The whole time your eyes have been wide in awe at the beautiful surroundings of the town, lanterns held up by steel chains hang in a line above your heads. Dashing evergreens keep watch from their various positions in the square. Oddly enough the stables look cozy, decorative pines are hung at the front doors, and from the opened windows you can see on the inside that there are rafters kept along with ornamental little flags of a hundred colors.

Soon enough the face of a dirt smudge stable boy races out of the wooden door, a wreath on the back of it jostles at the quick unexpected movement. Although on further inspection you realize he is a sylvan once you notice the two hooves peaking out from under his oversized cloak, he smiles brightly at the three of you while his big shimmering eyes shine a soft pink as he shuffles through the snow to Jaskier’s steed.

“Vallo Vaskier! Hove yuv bveen!” Exclaims the boy in a peculiar accent with a smile that could light up a room.

“Oh you know..” Shrugs the bard, “A bit of this a bit of that. But here’s something....I have made some loyal companions on my travels, they’re a real time, it’s been great honestly...although a tad bit dangerous at times but eh I’m still breathing.” He laughs, “So anyways, when’s the grand feast at the lady of winters hall?”

The boys face turns into a thrilled grin, “Are you performing?”

Jaskier glances to you before turning back to the kid, “Of course I am. Didn’t just travel all the way up here for nothing. So uh, when’s the feast?”

“Oh, right the veast. You hev to be invited first. But I vouldn’t vorry to vuch, vord alveys spreads vhen you’re here Vaskier.” States the stable boy with a curt nod.

“Boy you got any taverns close?” He snaps his head up to you, curls bouncing in the process as he gives a shy smile before nodding.

“Of course mviss. Vaskier knows ver they are.”

A smirk plays at your lips as you find the bards gaze, “I should have know.” You mutter, turning your head to find Geralt, “Now to find that tavern.” You add suggestively with a quick wink. Causing your man to hand you the smallest of smiles in knowing acknowledgment.

“Alright, Finn. Take this pretty lady to her home for the night. You’ve got two others who’ll need a stall.” States Jaskier as he nods to his horse, “And uh, the one with the scary face and white hair, be good to his mare. She’s very special to him, more then the half-vampire that rides with us and..Oh! Oww! Y/N don’t hit me woman!” Stammers the bard as you fold your arms across your chest.

A smirk upon your lips at his flustered reaction, “What was that about Roach being more special then me? You didn’t finish what you where going to say.”

“Well I would have if I wasn’t assaulted first.” Assures Jaskier, turning back to the kid, “Anyways, we’re ready to find our stead’s a place for the night. Well perhaps a couple nights, we may be here for a few days give or take.”

“A few days? He never said anything about that?” Grumbles Geralt in that familiar gravelly voice of his, “Y/N did he mention a few days?”

Grasping your horses leather reigns in one hand, you rest the other on Geralt’s broad cloaked shoulder, “Oh where’s your festive spirit? Come on love this is gonna be fun. I can feel it.”

Turning to follow Jaskier and the stable boy into the barn, Geralt tugs for Roach to start walking, rolling his golden eyes as he watches you swagger into the large pine rimmed entrance. Though a small tinge of excitement rushes throughout his body when remembering that subtle wink you shared with him only moments ago.

Your crimson irises light up at the colorful flags and cozy barn atmosphere, perfect for the tired horses that so desperately could use a good rest. You’re never this impressed by such festive decorations most times, but it’s been a long while since you’ve bared witness to such things. It feels rather nice, and anyways, another adventure with your boys is always welcomed.

The stable boy quickly takes Jaskier’s horse to get settled for the night, leaving yourself to find your own stable and Geralt to do the same. You turn, leading your own mare into a hay covered stall and doing what you can to help her feel more comfortable.

Taking off her saddle, you lay it off to the side, going now to brush her brown back, smoothing her fur down as you do. While so lost in your own little world you can’t help but begin rambling about your thoughts to the patient horse.

“Now since it’s come to mind...I think this place isn’t too bad, ya know? I haven’t really met any of the townsfolk so my true impression of the people here have yet to be determined. Although I’m not really getting a hostile feeling coming from this place so that’s good.” The mare snorts in reply, or at least you think she does, causing you to chuckle at the horses timely reaction, “Yes, my friend that’s exactly what I was thinking but you already new that and now I am talking to a horse.....and Geralt is standing right over there isn’t he.” You rush, whispering the last part to your horse.

Geralt leans his large frame against the wooden stalls door, a small amused smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you brush the mare. “Not strange at all. I think they understand, in their own way.”

“Maybe it’s because I travel with you too much, look at me, I’m talking to a horse.” You mutter with a small laugh, “Though I guess their company can be better then an actual persons. I have a feeling you know my meaning.”

He smiles again, looking around the barn until his golden eyes find yours once more, “Better then most.”

You gently tilt your head in a small nod, brushing the last of the mares ruffled hide before setting the brush down. Then reaching for your belongings that are hanging from a metal hook inches from Geralt.

He politely steps to the side as you take your cloak and sheathed silver dagger from off of the hook, bundling them under your arm you take a step forward past him, stopping for a moment to not-so-subtly trail your eyes up to his handsome face.

“See something interesting?” He muses, eyeing you up just the same causing a swarm of butterflies to make themselves know in your stomach.

Biting your lip you refrain from pushing him against the wooden wall and kissing him like your life depends on it, deciding to instead hug your things tighter and give him a small fangy smile.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Is all you can whisper out as you swiftly turn on your heel to go and find Jaskier before you change your mind and pounce on your Witcher like a cat to her prey.

It doesn’t take long to find him, the bard is casually seated on some blocks of hay as he gently strums on his lute while the stable boy brushes his horse for him. Jaskier is so caught up in his own world of playing that he neglects to notice when you’re standing directly in front of him.

“Jask!” You vocalize loudly, causing the entranced bard to jump and just about drop his prized lute if not for the strap.

“My gods Y/N, warn a man would you.” He sputters, setting himself a bit straighter once again as he gathers his bearings, “I could have dropped my dear lady just now.”

Taking a couple steps backwards towards Geralt, you chuckle, “In that case, I’ll try harder next time.”

Jaskier sends you a silent dirty look, causing Geralt to slip a couple hushed snickers out from behind you. “Alright bard..” Starts your Witcher, “where’s the nearest tavern? Considering it’s late and we’re all hungry.”

Jumping to his feet, Jaskier nods, “Right. Right. Of course, a tavern would be nice. Well my friend...and Y/N...let’s go find one.”

“Yes let’s.” Mutters Geralt, annoyance lacing his voice as Jaskier practically swaggers past the two of you, lute tightly in hand.

You turn to follow, nudging Geralt’s shoulder as you step past him, “Come on my White Wolf, let’s find that tavern. I could use a good rest, how about you?” The wink you send him is all but enough to fill his mind with wondrous thoughts for how his evening may truly end.

His heart admittedly fills with warmth and excitement as he watches you trail Jaskier out of the barn and into the wintery night air. Soft cool snowflakes kiss your warm skin as you stand in the silver wonderland, waiting for your Witcher to catch up.

A pleased smirk shows itself upon your face as you turn your head up to the dark clouds, enjoying the feeling of the small ice crystals as they float all around you. The night is absolutely divine, as you enjoy the small white puffs of air leaving forth from out of your mouth and nostrils.

You feel no chill from the harsh winter air, though you’re surprised when a certain someone unexpectedly attempts to throw a snowball at your back. Hearing the ball of ice swishing in the crisp air, you step inhumanly quick to the side.

A burst of laughter falls forth from your lips when the snow crashes into the shoulder of Jaskier as he looks from house to house trying to remember where the tavern is. He jumps back, his blue eyes wide as he snaps his jostled attention over to you, and the snowy haired man smirking from behind you.

“That was—was....Y/N!” Grumbles the bard with an angry pout before he begins to smile and eventually shake with laughter as well.

Chuckling still, you turn a raised brow to Geralt as he simply shrugs, “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yeah okay, Sir. I-Didn’t-Even-Want-To-Come...” Suddenly your eyes narrow causing Geralt to loose his amusement, “You tried to hit me with a snowball, you fucker.”

Geralt takes a cautious step closer to you, a pleading look crossing his features, “And now I know how well your reflexes are.”

“You already know how well my reflexes are.”

“Yes. But...” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to say next as you await an answer, finally he takes another step closer, bringing his hand to tilt your head up with the tips of his fingers. His face so close now you can feel his hot breath against your skin, “I’ll deal with your wrath all night long if that’s what you’d wish.”

Gently removing his hand away from your face, you lean in even closer, your lips practically brushing past his own, “I think that is a deliciously appealing proposition, my love.”

Geralt has no time to answer before you swiftly shift away from him, leaving the man with his thoughts and slightly tighter pants as he watches you walk over to Jaskier once again, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

It took about a good fifteen minutes to actually track down the tavern of Jaskier’s choice, an admittedly large and homey hall appropriately called The Silver Faun Inn. Quite the name for quite the tavern, as per usual when walking into anywhere on the continent in a place like this.

Your marry band of three was immediately greeted with a multitude of cautious glares and many other intrigued excited glances. Though to your relief, no one dares bother either of you while you make to find a quiet corner for the late hour of the darkening evening.

Soon fresh food and tasteful ale is to be had, filling the three of you up just enough to be satisfied for the night, but not too much, you’ve got plans for later. Plans that are so obviously unnoticed by the titular bard who’s now decided the tavern is in desperate need of entertainment.

Leaning into Geralt’s strong side, a lazy smirk upon your face, you watch in amusement as Jaskier joyously strums his favorite lute. “Don’t think I’ve heard that ballot before.” You whisper.

Your quiet Witcher hums in reply, earning him a light friendly squeeze to his forearm that rests on the table next to yours, “The enthusiasm radiating off of you is just, astounding.” You chuckle, burying your face into his shoulder.

Geralt smiles affectionately at your adorable reaction to his less then impressive one, his heart swells with more silent joy when you pull away once again. Only to stop yourself from speaking, your scarlet irises so caught up in your lovers humored face.

You remain quiet for a moment, your face stoic though your eyes crinkle with mischief before you finally break out into a large beaming grin. Without a second thought, Geralt leans in to gently press his plush inviting lips against yours for a beautiful moment of love and lust.

He feels so lovely, you can tell just how much he truly wants you, but all to soon does he pull away, “I think we should find that room, what do you say Y/N?”

Biting your lip, you stare longingly into his golden eyes, “Fantastic idea. I got the keys so let’s get outta here.”

In a heartbeat do the two of you slip from the taverns quiet corner to wander past your oblivious bard as he belts out another marvelous tune that sends the crowd into fits of song and laughter. Soon all is forgotten and left to the back of your minds as you lead your Witcher up the steps and down to the end of the hallway where your room just so happens to be.

Quickly going to unlock it, you’re bewildered when the little metal key won’t turn left, huffing in frustration you try and force it as gently as you can muster. Geralt leans an arm against the doorframe doing nothing to help you focus on your new task at hand.

“Y/N just turn it left.”

“I am turning it left.”

“More gently.”

“I am turning it gently.”

“How much did you drink?” He chuckles.

Snapping your head to him you playfully make a face, “Same as you idiot, now if only I could fucking get this bitch open then we could...” Errreck. Crack. “Oh fuck me.” You deadpan.

“I’m trying.” Muses Geralt.

Smacking Geralt against his arm you take a step away from the broken lock, “Dammit. I broke the fucking key....and I think the lock too.”

“Can you open it now?”

Sighing in annoyance you raise a brow at your man, “Well uh, guess we’ll find out.”

Turning towards the thick wooden mahogany door with its freshly broken lock, you nervously reach a hand up to turn the golden door handle, sucking in a breath you twist the knob only to be met with resistance.

Pursing your lips together you lean your head against the door, “Whoever made these shit locks I’ll fucking cut their hands off cause apparently they don’t need them anymore with whatever kinda fuckery this is.” You growl.

All you wanna do is get it on with Geralt, this is not helping.

“You could just force the door.” Suggests Geralt.

“I’m not forcing the door love, I really don’t need a bounty on me for breaking a knob.”

“Well, guess we’ll just have to sleep in Jaskier’s room tonight then.” Replies your Witcher with a shit eating grin, he knows just how much you want him right now. And so help you god if you don’t get what you want when it comes to a night with Geralt of Rivia.

“No! No! I can handle the fucking door!” You sass.

Taking a step back into the hallway, he folds his arms over his chest, “Alright then. Open the door Y/N.” Smirks Geralt, urging you to create some chaos.

Huffing, you take a step back, readying yourself to charge the grand mahogany door. The smirk on your Witcher’s face is admittedly smackable or kissable, you just can’t bring it in you to focus on anything else but opening this door. He watches in anticipation as you charge, hands out and ready to force open the closed entrance as you make hasty steps for the tavern room.

Without warning the giant door swings opens, taking you off guard as you fly through the new opening and into the grand room before falling to the hard floor with a grunt. Your chin smacks the wooden floorboards with a thwack sound, your opened palms doing just the same when you land.

“Ouch.” You mutter, lifting yourself up from the ground, turning when your nose catches the scent of someone new.

Snapping to your right, you’re caught with big brown fearful eyes of a young maid, “Oh, uh....your room is ready miss.”

Not aware of the less then friendly grimace adorning your face, Geralt steps into the room before you decide to shove the girl out yourself, “Sorry. The lock wasn’t working, I think we may have broken it.”

Quickly snapping out of her frightened trance, the girl turns a nervous eye to your Witcher, “Um, that key you have there...it’s not the right one. I’ll just uh....leave then.” She whispers, her eyes never leaving yours as she hastily slips out of the room and down the hallway.

Geralt gently closes the door, shoving a chair under the handle to create a makeshift lock while you take a couple steps forward over to the large mattress, resting a hand on the bed. He turns to you, “Well that was...”

“Entertaining much?” You scoff, rubbing your split chin, “I think I’m bleeding....no yeah, I’m definitely bleeding.”

Geralt hums, nodding before walking over to find a small spare cloth on the nearby table, “Sit on the bed I’ll clean you up.”

Doing just as directed you sit, watching as your silver haired lover walks across the room to seat himself next to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Rolling your eyes you pout, “Funny is it? The things I do for you, and now my fucking chin hurts.”

Suddenly his eyes go soft, though there still remains a tinge of humor in them, “Y/N, you’ve already healed and the pain will die soon enough....here, let me just clean the blood away.” He mutters, reaching his arm up to press the pale cloth against your blood smudged skin.

Fine, ignore my pain you ass.

Though you’re still annoyed, the feeling of being tended to by Geralt is enough to dissipate away all your recent frustrations and brewing anger. Sending you into a blissful minute of staring lazily into your mans pretty golden eyes like a dazed lover.

Once he’s confident all the blood is gone, he sets the pink cloth in his lap, saying nothing as the two of you stare deeply into the eyes of one another, the sexual tension of the room rising by the second. You slip out a soft breath, the tiniest of smiles pulling at your lips.

“This is the part where you kiss my pain away. Right here.” You point at your chin, just below your lips. His golden eyes dart down, following your directions.

Ever so meticulously slowly does he lean in closer, the blood smudged cloth left and forgotten as it falls to the floor when his large hands go to touch your face. His lips press softly onto your chin, then cheek, then the other, and another two over your jawline. Earning a satisfied hum of approval from you, much to Geralt’s satisfaction.

Your own hands grasp onto his thick forearms, the rest of yourself feeling rather warm all over as Geralt kisses all over your face, slowly as ever.

“You know..” Kiss, “Geralt, mhmm....my lips are right here...” You mutter, just as he presses a heated one onto the preferred area you’ve asked. He tastes so sweet, like the ale he drank earlier in the evening, but this is admittedly much better then any ale you’ve ever drank.

Soon his hands fall to your waist and arm, then to many other places as he decides to explore your body with his calloused hands. Not being one to hold back, you do just the same, earning a low husky moan from deep within his throat when you palm him just to see what’s going on down there.

Fortunately he’s decently hard, the fabric of his dark pants are nicely stretched out from what pleasantries await you soon enough. Leaving him be for the moment, you gently break away from his sweet lips.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” You chuckle at the annoyed expression adorning his handsome features, “I’m just, rather wet down here and I’d like to get things rolling. Though don’t get me wrong I could kiss those lips of yours all fucking day.” You add, deliberately doing your best to give him your bedroom eyes.

He pauses for a second, his eyes trailing from your clothed nether regions all the way up to your shimmering lust filled gaze, “You’re already wet?”

Rolling your eyes you reach out to pull him further up the bed, “Oh fuck off, you’re already harder then a frozen ice cycle and that was before we even got into this room so shut uh uhh mhmm...” Is all you’re able to ramble out before he’s attacked your neck again with those beautifully plush lips of his, the rest of his body hovering just above you as he rests a knee between your parted thighs.

His lips leave a wet trail all the way down your throat until they reach the edge of your tops laced fabric, where a clear V is had that reaches down to the area between your breasts. He kisses once on the lace and exposed skin on your sternum, then another further down.

He’s just about driving you wild with the frustratingly grand lack of friction in certain areas that are so desperately craving such attention. Done with his teasing you lightly tug at his long white hair.

“Geralt just fuck me already.” You mumble, sucking in a quick breath when he gently squeezes your breast without warning.

Kissing your cheek, his face remains mere inches from your own as he stares mischievously into your crimson eyes, “We may need to take some clothes off first.” He chuckles, planting a quick kiss to your lips before sitting back on the bed.

Laying there, body hot and pulsing with pleasure unreleased, you hastily sit up and fumble as fast as you can to remove your grey top. Flinging it to the floor as your eyes find Geralt’s once again, though this time he’s completely shirtless.

Drinking up every last little piece of your muscular Witcher, you bite your lip as he smiles at you, “And that’s a sight I could look at everyday.” You just about swoon at his quick witted words, no doubt feeling a bit heated the longer he stares at you.

Winking at him, you swiftly shed the thin dark material calling itself an undershirt, a playful gleam in your eye as you watch Geralt quickly find your two exposed breasts. Beautiful and soft, your nibbles perked at the arousal coursing throughout your entire vessel.

Wanting to be bold, you wiggle a brow at him before confidently standing, your eyes never leaving his. He watches with an intrigued curious gaze before you begin unbuttoning your black trousers, earning another blissful smirk across the mans face.

Soon enough are all the buttons finally undone, with a spectacular dramatic bow do you then go to shimmy out of your pants, kicking them to the wooden floor in a rush as you’re now left in nothing but your small whole filled and slightly ripped underwear.

As to be expected, Geralt reaches a hand out to touch your exposed legs, getting nothing but a quick playful kick to his hands as you hum in disapproval. Instead you go to set a hand on your hip, nodding your head for him to remove his own concealing attire.

He hums in reply, standing to his full height as you unabashedly watch him fully undress himself, tossing his pants and undergarments to the floor ever so dramatically. He stares you down with those big beautiful golden eyes of his, you keep your sights locked onto them and painfully ignore his now exposed member that’s hard and dripping with pre-cum.

Biting your lip, you try your absolute best to keep from smiling, “Fuck me I love you so much.” You speak breathlessly, your eyes turning more serious again, “Now sit, please.”

Geralt hums, seating himself upon the soft billowy mattress just as directed, deciding to lean back on his arms and let his body lay open and ready for you. Blinking slowly you finally reveal a pleased smile down at him, just about mirroring the same one that he’s handing you so freely, just like his body.

Slowly you walk forward on the bed, your legs held firmly to either side of his lower waist as you kneel down, hovering your soaked womanhood right above his glistening member. You let out a breathy chuckle, resting your palms against his broad shoulders as he does the same action but with your bare hips.

“May I?” You politely ask, leaning your head against his as he gently squeezes the flesh of your hips in reply.

“Of course.” He mutters, low and gravelly in your ear as he patiently awaits your body, his very heart about to explode with how much he loves you right now.

Parting your legs wider, you remove one hand from his shoulder to quickly grasp his thick cock, “Alright let me just...” Bringing it to your dripping entrance you line it up perfectly, “I’m coming in..” You laugh, “literally.”

“Y/N you don’t have to say it...”

Digging your fingers into the side of his shoulder you quickly tilt your head to shut him up with a kiss, “Yes, but you laughed.” Pulling back to look at your face, Geralt’s mouth opens to reply, though his words are left on the wind when you slowly slide yourself onto him.

The new welcoming warmth of your core sending his mind swirling with nothing but a colorful bliss. Yours about the same, he’s big as he sinks deeper and deeper into your body until finally he’s completely filled you up.

Closing your eyes, your face scrunches up in slight discomfort at the new thrilling contact, this feeling isn’t anything new it’s just he’s quite large and you need a couple moments to adjust before the real fun begins. Sensing your slight displeasure, he keeps still inside you, trailing a comforting hand over your cheek as he watches your brows furrow together as you adjust.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t mean to hurt you.” Worries your beautiful Witcher as you open your glistening scarlet irises to find his concerned face.

Shaking your head you slowly roll your hips into his, “Never. Apologize for a big dick Geralt....you’re honestly about to work wonders so keep that pretty mouth shut and make me scream.”

Holding in his laughter, he decides to do just as you’ve asked, a second later do you gasp in surprise when both his hands dig into your hips. Pushing you down onto him even more as he pulls you with each roll of your hips against his. Creating a blissful synced rhythm that begins to bring a low pleasurable build into your soaked core.

He suddenly thrusts up into you as you bounce down on him over and over again, your chests rubbing against one another as you both attempt to hold each other’s gazes for as long as you can try. The room feels hot and sticky, the smells of sex, sweat, and Geralt filling into your sensitive nostrils that drives you mad with lust.

All that can be heard is the familiar slapping of skin on skin as you both move against one another in quick passionate motions. Without warning Geralt thrusts deeply into your sweet spot sending you into a flurry of moaned curses as he thrusts his strong hips into you over and over again.

Your body falls flush against his as you whimper and moan into his shoulder from the intense buildup of pure pleasure that he’s slowly filling you with by the second. He can tell you’re close and with that thought in mind you’re pleasantly surprised when he abruptly holds your back, keeping you against him as he quickly lays you onto the soft mattress.

You audibly moan at the new positioning, not being able to hold back any more whimpers of pleasure as he fucks you into the comfortable bedding like his life depends on it. You’re visibility sweaty now, the slickness of yourself and Geralt doing everything to increase your growing pleasure as he slides in and out of you like a crazed man gone years without a proper fucking.

Another moan escapes from your lips as Geralt bounds you into the mattress, hitting you with deep precise thrusts each and every time, leaving you with nothing to keep you steady but his bare back that no doubt is covered in fresh pink scratch marks.

He keeps flush against your body, his manhood buried deep within your parted thighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours, his lips so soft and inviting as they press against your neck and jaw. You can’t remember if you’re ever felt such pleasure from this man as he pulls you to the edge of oblivion.

He suddenly moans against your ear sending new waves of bliss deep into your core and just like that do you come, moaning his name over and over again as he relentlessly thrusts into you with all that he has left.

He grips your hands tight, his warm seed spilling into you a second later, causing you to squeeze your legs tighter against his, “Ugh fuck Geralt.” You moan, your lips brushing past his as he pumps into you for a few more blissful moments before he falls limp against your body.

Utterly spent with your heated love making session, you chuckle at his honestly adorable actions as he lays flush with you, his cock still buried deep inside. He may be a large heavy man, but you’re no common human woman who lays underneath this handsome Witcher.

It’s plain as anyone could see, though you’d cut the throats of anyone bold enough to take a peek at your secretive actions.

Humming in content, Geralt moves to lay at your side, bringing you along with him so that he can stay inside you for a bit longer. You smirk, holding him close as he does the same, “A little needy tonight are we?” You muse, placing a chaste kiss against his puffy red lips.

“Maybe I missed you in more ways then one.” He replies, his golden eyes finding your crimson ones, “It certainly doesn’t help that Jaskier is always with us when we set up camp. I never get a true moment to myself with you.”

Trailing a hand down his scar covered back, you smile once again, “Well you’re about to get a whole week with me if you’re lucky. And I’m looking forward to every single second of it.”

The way you make him feel cannot ever truly be expressed in Geralt’s mind, though you can tell he loves you deeply even when no words are said at all or perhaps when he gets flustered and stumbles on his tongue for the right ones. Though right now he seems to have you vexed, completely entranced and utterly opened and surrendered to him.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same, his eyelids close in content as you gently trail your fingers down his cheekbone, earning a low hum from deep within his throat that sends shivers down your spine even with something so innocent as this.

You break out into a grin, your fangs showing as you let out a couple chuckles once you realize he’s still inside you. His own lips curl into a tired smile, though he doesn’t open his eyes. “Y/N?” He mutters, wondering what on earth could be so funny right now.

Pushing a few stray hairs out of his face you blink, trying to contain yourself once more, “Oh nothing, you’re just being....dare I say, cute. And all things considered, you’re still inside me.”

Geralt shows you a lazy grin, “I like being inside you.”

“Yes and what if I have to relieve myself, or get a drink?”

“I see no problem when you’re lucky enough to be laying next to me.”

Fake scoffing you gently tug on his silver locks, “Geralt of Rivia you’re blessed enough I love you so much you ass.”

Finally he opens his eyes, the most adorable of smiles crossing his face, and only for you, “Well I guess someone has to.”

“Yes.” You smirk, “And I’ll make disappear the next confidant fucker who dare think to take you away from me.”

“So I’m assuming that last tavern wench we met a month ago went missing....not, under mysterious circumstances?” He wonders, a brow raised in humored accusation.

Rolling your scarlet irises, you give him a friendly pat over his bare shoulder, “I wasn’t appreciating that foxy look she was giving you, looked like a horny buck ready to pounce.” The look he gives you is enough to make you burst with laughter, “What? Don’t give me that face Geralt, I didn’t do anything adherently evil....all I did was leave her in the middle of the woods...near another town!” You protest, trying to make your little petty adventure sound less terrible.

“Well, at least you were nice about it,” Muses Geralt, “though I’m not sure if that’s better.”

“Oh shut it, I couldn’t help myself if you’d like to know alri...” Knock. Knock. Knock. Three raps against the thick bedroom door immediately draws your attention away from Geralt. Propping his head up by his elbow, he turns a protective glare at the mystery person keeping themselves on the other side.

Wanting to snap at the hidden individual who dare break you away from your rather pleasant evening, you push away from the soft comfort of the mattress, quickly pulling out of Geralt, you maneuver yourself into a seated position. “I’ll see who it is, can’t be anyone with a personal vendetta against us, well.....at least I don’t think so.”

Pursing his lips together in slight apprehension, Geralt silently watches you slip from the bed with nothing but a thin white sheet to keep your nakedness from any prying eyes. Your steps to the barred door are swift and silent as an owl in flight, just the same when you remove the chair from the door knob.

With one hand on the golden knob and the other grasped tightly onto the bunched up bed sheet, you turn a curious glance to Geralt who’s now seated fully upright on the mattress, a thin sheet covering his previously exposed manhood.

Finding your sights upon the door once again, you turn the knob, swiftly opening the door where you’re both greeted with the nervous wide eyed face of a young elven boy, who looks only to be about fourteen, dressed in lord-like attire. A suspiciously high status pose about him that sends your brows furrowing in confusion for this strange unexpected intrusion.

Wearing a soft purple scarf over a pure white thick fur laced jacket, his green eyes shift warily from you to your shirtless Witcher then back to you again. His cheeks most certainly reddening the longer he stares, mouth slightly agape, clearly this kid was not expecting the sight before him.

Deciding to relieve the awkward atmosphere, you clear your throat, “Well you certainly don’t look like an assassin, nor do you appear to be ready with coin for a wanted killing. So, do relieve us of this suspense...I was kind of in the middle of something important.” You state, the tone of your voice appearing slightly annoyed even when you try and hide it.

His big emerald irises flicker as he blinks, swallowing his nerves, does the elven boy in the fancy coat and purple scarf stand a bit straighter, “Hello. I am Venemyr of Rorym, messenger to Queen Allira and her husband King Gabriel of this winter kingdom of Turga.” He stammers, eyes shifting nervously from Geralt to you, suddenly he pulls out a folded piece of white and gold craftsmanship in the form of a beautiful card.

His hand shakes slightly as he reaches out for you to take the concealed letter, finding no ill intent from the boy, you fearlessly accept. Once in your hand does he finally begin his explanation, “I come to ask the Princess Y/N of Alkatraz and the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, if they will accept this invitation to the King and Queen’s eldest son’s banquet as special guests of honor.”

Oh, now things have just gotten very intriguing.

Not positive on how to correctly respond to this large proposition, the young elven messenger nods, “My adversaries had been made aware of you two by a bard named Jaskier who is thought of warmly in this kingdom, then it appeared that the eldest prince became very interested in meeting a lady dhampir and a Witcher of Kaer Morhen.”

Oh, Jaskier you motherfucker.

Smiling politely, Vesemyr watches with wide foresty eyes when he catches sight of your fangs, noticing his apparent change of demeanor, your face falls, “Uh, well, thank you for the message and this invitation? We’ll see to it soon, and without a doubt report back accordingly sometime tomorrow.”

“The banquet is in two days.”

“Is it now?” You reply in a knowing tone, your brows raising, “Good to know, now if you’ll excuse us...the hour is late and you’d better get to wherever you’ve come from before it gets any colder outside.” And with that said do you flash him a wink before slamming the door into his scared little face and high end attire without a second thought.

Looking down at the strange yet exquisite invitation placed in your hand, you turn it over and find the golden waxes seal of a house sigil. “Y/N come to bed, I think I’d like to have a look at whatever fuckery Jaskier has roped us into.”

Raising your attention back up to the naked man seated casually against the headboard, you smile, making swift steps to the mattress before launching yourself next to his side causing the bed to shift and creak at your jostling movement. Instead of finding his annoyed expression, you’re fortunately greeted with an arm pulling you flush against his side.

With the two of you wrapped up in the white bedsheets, leaning comfortably on one another does Geralt slowly take the parchment from out of your hand. He holds the letter up, studying it’s beauty in the side table’s candle light as you rest your head on his shoulder with one arm slung over his muscular waist.

His breaths are slow and calm, the rise and fall of his chest gently pushing you up and then back down again only ever so slightly while your Witcher carefully observes the golden wax of the houses sigil. “A stag, with a crown of leaves....should we open it?” Muses Geralt, fully aware of how much you want to see what’s inside.

Geralt I swear to god.

Gently giving his waist a loving squeeze, you nod, “If you’d be so kind.” Humming in reply, Geralt makes quick work of the letter, soon its cut open and pulled out for your eyes to witness its ink marked contents.

“Fuck.” Mutters Geralt dismally, “Guess that kid wasn’t fucking with us.”

“And I guess we’re going to a party.” You exclaim, much more excitement flowing through your voice then what Geralt could ever give.

He quickly turns his head down to you, “Y/N no. I don’t give a shit if this prince wants to speak with us, I have no interest in becoming involved in something like that.”

You lightly chuckle at his less then stellar mood before turning your face to press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, he sighs, meeting your crimson gaze once again, “Think of it, free drink and food, and this prince wants to see us....we’re practically the guests of honor and I cannot wait to see Jaskier tomorrow cause I’m gonna slap him for it...then I’ll thank him.”

“Ugh, fine.” Begrudgingly mutters Geralt as you press your lips to his.

Maybe a part 2 later on, idk we’ll see. Hope you enjoyed this :)

Tagged for series: @seninjakitey @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt imagine #geralt x you #geralt x y/n

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fanficimagery · 4 years

Text

A Fangy Fetish

Imagine finally coming home to your family, only to realize there's something other about your little brother and his friends. But that's okay because you're not exactly the same as you were when you first left either. It's a surprising change, but one you're more than okay with after meeting Peter Hale.

Trigger Warnings: Brief conversation about death, an abusive relationship and a brief scene of spiking one's drink. Author’s Note: Pls don’t ask about the title. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking XD

Passing up the welcome sign to Beacon Hills should fill you with glee since it's been forever that you've seen your mom and brother, but it merely makes you squirm in your seat since there was a good reason you had stayed away in the first place. And now- now you're meeting with them for the first time since you've changed and you're not sure how it should make you feel.

Your mom hasn't moved from your childhood home and as far as you knew your brother didn't have plans to move out until he had completed vet school, so it's not too hard to track them down. There's no vehicle in the driveway, but the opened curtains to the front windows showcase flickering lights from a TV being cast against the wall. Then cutting the engine, you tuck your hair behind your left ear and angle your ear towards the house to listen. After zoning out various noises, you can hear a TV show playing and your mother's familiar voice muttering obscenities when she sees something she doesn't agree with. There's no other voices or heartbeats so you figure your brother must be out.

Exhaling a nervous sigh, you pull down the visor and check your reflection in the small mirror being lit up by two small lights on either side of it. Then after making sure there's nothing on your face or at the corner of your eyes and mouth, you push the visor back up and then make your way out of the car. Walking up the steps to the front path and then the front path to the house porch, you nervously close the distance to the front door. You hesitate only a second before pressing the doorbell and then step back as you hear your mother pause her show and get up to see who it is.

The door opens and you can't help but smile when you see realization set in and Melissa McCall's eyes widen. "Y/N?"

"Hey, mom."

"Oh my god. Sweetheart!" She closes the distance between the two of you, arms wrapping tightly around you as you laugh and return her embrace. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"It was a split second decision," you tell her, letting her pull back and look you up and down to make sure you're really there. "Then I figured a surprise was in order."

She practically beams. "Come on. Come in," she says. "Oh I can't wait until Scott gets home. He's going to be so happy."

"Yeah, I can't wait to see Scotty either. It's been way too long."

Following your mom, you warily eye the doorway before stepping inside and the various scents of your childhood home make your chest ache with memories you had pushed to the back of your mind. Everything still smells familiar, even if there is a new underlying scent that makes you a little anxious and nose twitch.

"So what have you been up to?" She asks. The two of you settle in the living room and she's quick to turn off the TV in order to give you her full attention. "Catch me up."

"Well," you nervously chuckle, "there's not much to tell. School and work have kept me busy, and then there was this guy-"

"A boy?!" She gasps. "Tell me more."

"For a year," you tell her, your smile faltering. "I was with him for a year when I finally realized our relationship wasn't exactly healthy. The break was pretty amicable, but my trust in him was completely broken."

Melissa's mood immediately drops. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I'm okay now." Your mom looks so heartbroken all of a sudden that you can't help but scoot closer and pull her into a hug again. "Don't be sad," you chuckle. "It's part of growing up. If I didn't go through some stuff, I wouldn't be the person I am today. And let me tell you, I really like the person I am now."

Your mom sniffles. "Well if you're happy.."

"More than," you assure her. "I mean, I could probably use a little more fun between the sheets, but-"

"Y/N!" Melissa pulls back, shock etched into her features. "I am still your mother, young lady."

You burst out laughing, quickly leaning in to peck your mother's cheek. "I know, mom. Just wanted you to stop being sad. It worked."

A moment passes and her shoulders sag. She starts to laugh with you and you're so distracted by cheering her up that you don't hear the car parking outside or the steady heartbeat getting closer and closer. It's only when the front door opens that you freeze, your mom's smile widening.

"Hey, mom, whose car is out front?" Scott rounds the corner and you're surprised at how much your little brother has grown. He stares at you, eyes widening, before a very familiar and very missed crooked smile overtakes his features. "Y/N!"

You're laughing again as Scott practically rushes you, his arms tight around you in a welcoming embrace. He's warm, like really warm, and he has a very distinctive earthly smell. But that can't be right because as far as you knew the werewolf gene did not run in your family's DNA.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asks, squeezing you one last time before letting you go and then putting you at arm's length to look you up and down. He looks between you and your mom, smiling the entire time.

"Thought it was about time I came over for a visit." You shrug. "School is on break and my boss said I needed to cash in my vacation days or I'd lose them."

"I don't even know your boss, but I already love him. If he made you come home, he's okay in my books."

You chuckle, punching Scott lightly on the arm. You open your mouth to reply, but a frantic beeping reaches your ears. You and Scott look at your mom when she frowns, she then walking over towards the kitchen and picking up a beeper. She sighs and looks towards you and your brother, apologetically. "It's the hospital."

"Say no more," you tell her.

"Don't worry. Stiles will be stoked to see Y/N so we'll keep her busy for a while."

"Stiles?" You slowly smirk. "He still a little heathen?"

"Worse." Melissa snorts. "So much worse."

As Melissa gets ready for a shift that has been passed on to her, Scott convinces you to go surprise Stiles who's in town for the week. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time he's set eyes on you, but every now and then you see his expression falter as he stares curiously at you before shaking off whatever it is and going back to his happy self.

The three of you head outside, you and Scott promising Melissa to be home in time for some breakfast before watching her drive off. You and Scott then climb into your own car, and he happily directs you towards the outskirts of town to a seemingly abandoned building.

"What is this place?" You ask, turning off your car and then climbing out.

"An apartment building. Friend of a friend likes his privacy so he bought the building. The only occupied portion of it is the loft at the very top."

"Nice," you quietly muse as you follow after him. But very quickly you come to a certain realization and stumble to a halt. "So he owns the entire building? Privately?"

"Well yeah," Scott says. "Why?"

"Oh no reason." You try to play it off, nonchalant. "I just- I rather not barge in without meeting the guy. Walking in uninvited is bad manners."

Your brother huffs. "It's just Derek. He won't care."

"Yeah, but I will."

Digging your heels in on this, Scott sighs. "Seriously, Y/N. Derek won't mind. You can wait down here all you want, but Derek won't waste his time coming down here just to tell you to come in."

"Can't you call him?"

Seeing your pout, Scott rolls his eyes but the amused little smile doesn't go missed. "Sure. Fine." He pulls out his phone and quickly presses the contact he's looking for. Phone then put on speaker, you flash him a small smile in gratitude.

"What do you want, McCall?"

"So I have a friend down here with me and she's really adamant that she gets an invite from you before we head upstairs. She says it's bad manners to just walk on in."

The guy scoffs. "Whatever. Come in."

Well that should do it. Hopefully.

"Happy now?" Scott puts his phone away after the call is abruptly ended and leads the way inside. "Now hurry up. I wanna see Stiles flip out." You follow him, briefly hesitating at the main door before exhaling silently in relief when you're permitted entry.

The metal, cage-like elevator gives you pause, but Scott promises it works just fine. So after settling inside and vowing to kill him if the elevator fails and falls, Scott presses the button for the loft at the very top of the building. Once stopped, you're then led towards a sliding metal door which Scott readily opens. Again you hesitate, but cross the threshold with no problem.

There are two men in the loft, one whose movements are very familiar and brings a smile to your face. The other one, the one with the dark hair and scruff, well it looks like he's scenting the air until his hardened gaze lands on you. But Stiles, who'd been preoccupied by tell him a story, immediately ceases talking to see what the problem is. And when his gaze lands on you, his jaw drops open and you can't help but snort.

"Holy shit. Y/N?"

"Goddamn, Stilinski," you muse. "You grew up in all the right places." Scott groans and you laugh when Stiles' awed expression turns a bit smug. From one second to the next he's moving and making a beeline for you, the two of you colliding in a hug which he rocks you side to side in. "It's nice to see you too, Stiles."

"How long are you here for? Dad will be happy to see you."

"Two weeks," you tell him as he pulls away. "And I can't wait to see Noah. It's been ages."

"I'm all for reunions," the guy who you're assuming is Derek says, "but why the hell would you guys let me invite a vampire into my home?"

Scott scoffs, Stiles freezes, and you frown at the new guy. This was not how you wanted the news broken to Scott. Your moment of anger, however, is overridden by the fact that there's no immediate denial of the supernatural from either your brother or his best friend.

"My sister isn't-"

"What are you?" You ask, cutting Scott off, glaring at Derek. "You smell wolfish, but so does my brother. Last I knew there was no wolf gene in our family line."

"Y/N, what?" Scott then asks. "You're not- tell him you're not a vampire."

Your gaze slides to Scott and you smile sadly at him. "I'm sorry. I can't do that." He tenses and Stiles takes a few steps back, and your heart breaks. "I promise to explain everything here in a bit, but tell me what's going on. Please. You don't smell human, Scotty, and neither does Eyebrows over there."

Scott gulps and nods, eyes filling with tears that refuse to fall. "Derek Hale comes from a family of werewolves. I'm sure you remember the Hale family before you left for college." There's a huff and you warily eye Derek as he rolls his eyes. Scott clears his throat and continues. "At the start of my sophomore year, I was bitten by a rogue alpha. I turned."

"Huh. I've never met a wolf that could turn someone with a bite."

"Never met a-" Stiles starts, only to stop and redirect his line of thoughts. "Wait, there are other types of werewolves?"

You shrug. "Well, yeah."

Stiles opens his mouth to retort, but Derek is quick to shut him down. "You can get your supernatural fix later, Stiles. Right now, Scott's sister has some explaining to do." By now he's nearly shoulder to shoulder with Stiles, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you.

The guy's gruff, but since he's not outright threatening you, you don't get defensive. "Um, I died about two years ago."

"You died?!" Both Scott and Stiles yelp.

Your lips press into a thin line as you nod. Scott frowns. "Two years ago is when you stopped coming home to visit."

"I-I had to." You glance at your brother as the first tear falls, but you're quick to wipe it away. "About a year prior to dying, I fell in love with a local. Everything was fine. I was happy," you say. "But as the months passed, I started to realize that there were blank spots in my memories. Some days I'd wake up with bruises I couldn't explain or wake up completely exhausted to the point that I couldn't get out of bed. No one, other than myself, realized something was wrong."

"What happened?" Scott quietly asks.

You sniffle, smiling sadly. "My boyfriend. He was a vampire, only I didn't know it until I was one myself."

"Why only after? Surely you could tell something was up when you were with him," Stiles says.

You shake your head, but it's Derek who says. "Vampires can manipulate the mind. It's one reason my mom wasn't very trusting of them."

"He's right. Our kind can compel people- make them forget something happened or plant memories that never existed," you admit. "As it so happened, my boyfriend was feeding off of me without my consent. And when he took too much, I would pass out and then wake up extremely weakened without a clue as to why. Most of the time he compelled me to think that I was fine- that nothing was wrong with me."

"How'd you figure it all out?" Your brother wonders.

You exhale softly. "I went out partying with some friends. On our way back, my friend lost control of the car and slammed into a tree. I died, but I died with vampire blood in my system." All three guys shift uneasily of learning about the ingested blood, so you quickly explain how it got there in the first place. "When my boyfriend was too rough with me, he'd feed me his blood since vampire blood has healing capabilities. The only downfall of ingesting vampire blood is that if you die while it's still lingering in your system, you wake up in transition."

"Which means you had to feed on human blood," Derek says.

"Yes." Stiles and Scott grimace. "I had woken up in the hospital morgue and found my way to the blood bank. It was- it was a clusterfuck," you admit smally. "I gorged, I cried, and I unknowingly compelled the doctors to make them think that I was fine and then fled the hospital as soon as I could. Fortunately for me, there was another vampire at school. When she realized I was newly turned and I told her what I knew, she felt sorry for me. And since I was a vampire myself now, all my compelled memories started to rush back. She helped me break up with my vampire boyfriend and then took me under her wing. She taught me how to control the bloodlust and introduced me to a witch who made me a piece of daylight jewelry so I'd be able to walk in the sun."

Scott and Stiles appear floored by your story, but it's Derek whose expression has yet to falter. "I have one question," he says. You nod, waiting. "Are you here to cause drama for Beacon Hills?"

"No. Never," you immediately answer him. "I honestly just came for mom and Scott. I didn't expect any supernatural to be here at all or even that my baby brother was part of it now too."

"Okay then." His stern expression briefly falters so he flashes a quick smile. "Then welcome home, I guess."

You huff a quiet laugh. "Thanks. I'm Y/N, by the way. Scott's older sister."

"Derek Hale, co-alpha to the McCall/Hale pack."

"Co-alpha, huh. Does that mean," you trail off and glance at your brother, smiling when his eyes flash red at you. "Cool. The werewolves I know can't do that. They're really only dangerous when they've transformed under a full moon. Other than that, they're as human as can be."

"I have so many questions," Stiles muses.

Derek huffs in amusement. "Don't bother. We have books on other breeds of the same species. I just never brought them out because, until now, vampires never stepped foot in Beacon Hills and we didn't have to worry about other breeds of werewolves." He turns and walks back to a metal table where various books are opened, and busies himself by browsing the pages. Stiles is quick to follow after him and pester him about these so-called books.

Scott steps closer to you, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as he smiles sheepishly. "So you're fine?" He wonders. "You're not gonna fang out and drain us of our blood?"

"What?" You snort. "No. If I wanted to drain you or anyone else, I'd have done it when everyone was hugging me and my mouth was literal inches from your throats. I'm fine. You guys have nothing to worry about."

"But you drink blood?"

"I do, although I tend to stick to blood bags from a hospital. If I drink straight from the vein, I only take enough to soothe the thirst and then quickly compel the person to eat a snack or go home and nap."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

You pause. Scott stares at you, and even Derek and Stiles go eerily quiet after the question. You sigh. "Does it matter?" Scott shrugs and you hate you have to admit this. "Yes. My first victim was an accident. It happened when my friend was teaching me how to feed properly and I lost control. It happened twice more, but I was able to save those two individuals before their hearts stopped."

"Any on purpose?" Derek asks from his side of the room.

"A few." You gulp. "The moment a hunter learns you're a vampire, you're apparently fair game. If I have to take a life to keep my own, I will. Dying is not fun and I don't plan on doing it again any time soon." You notice Scott frowns at your answer, but Derek and Stiles hum before accepting your answer as appropriate. And not wanting to get into a discussion of right or wrong, you paste on a smile and change the subject. "So anyway, what else have I missed? Any girlfriends I should know about? Or boyfriends? I don't judge."

Derek snorts and Scott flashes you a crooked smile. "Actually, yeah. My girlfriend and Derek's are out right now buying some stuff to throw a party."

"Oohhh. Do these girlfriends have names?"

"Yeah. Malia and Kira," Stiles says. "Malia's my ex-girlfriend and Derek's long lost cousin, but now she's Scott's girlfriend. And Kira is Scott's ex-girlfriend who is now Derek's girlfriend."

"That is.. weird," you say, chuckling softly. "But cool, I guess, if you guys seem to have no problem with it."

"We're all pack," Scott tells you. "We're more than fine with it."

"And I'm actually dating Lydia Martin," Stiles says, "but she's super busy with school which is why she's not here."

"Lydia Martin?" Your nose wrinkles. "Snooty Martin?"

"Hey!" Stiles quickly reprimands you. "She's not so bad anymore. Not after finding out she was a banshee."

"Hold up. What?"

"Yeah. Lydia's a banshee." He shrugs. "Kira's a kitsune and Malia's a werecoyote."

"Holy shit. What the hell has Beacon Hills come to?"

"That's nothing," Derek says. "If you had been here all along, you'd have seen a lot more than just that. Beacon Hills is a beacon for crazy."

"Yeah. No shit."

What little tension that had been lingering finally vanishes and everyone shares a friendly laugh. But when a newcomer enters the apartment, it has your hackles rising.

"Ugh. Who let a bloodsucking fiend in?"

The elder gentleman that enters is rather attractive, but the scowl he's directing in your direction leaves you scowling back. "Aren't you a little old to be wearing v-necks?"

"And aren't you a little new to be taunting the big bad wolf?"

You hiss. "Do we like this guy?"

Without missing a beat, Derek says, "On occasion."

"Good." Then before anyone can blink, you use your vampiric speed to appear inches from the newcomer, grab him by the throat and pin him to the floor. Stiles and Scott yelp at your sudden movements, but you pay them no mind as you snarl in the wolf's face. "You don't wanna get on my bad side."

The wolf blinks in surprise and everyone seems to hold their breath. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, but since it's slow you don't bother to act on it. Instead, fingers gently touch your face before a thumb brushes on the underside of your left eye where you know small black veins are pulsing. "Beautiful."

You freeze and slowly ease up on the wolf. "What?"

He smirks. "If you wanted me on my back, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask." Derek, Stiles and Scott all groan. "Peter Hale, at your service."

"Y/N McCall," you hesitantly introduce yourself. Climbing off of him and steadily walking on your own two feet, you can't help but knock him down a peg when you see his expression. "And don't look too smug. The other Hale is hotter."

Meeting Malia and Kira was rather interesting, especially when you saw what they were face to face rather than just hearing about it. Seeing Scott and Malia shift almost left you speechless, but seeing Kira left you in complete awe. They had then asked to see you and Malia was the only one to not balk or make some sort of disgusted facial expression when you mentioned needed a bag of blood soon.

Over the next couple of days, Scott manages to convince you to explain to your mom about your new status as a vampire, as well as Noah Stilinski since both of them knew about the supernatural. And since Noah was like a father figure, you, Scott and Stiles got them together for a family dinner where you told them your story. Noah was angry and your mother was heartbroken, but both accepted you with open arms.

Being with your family and your brother's pack brings you a sense of calm that you haven't felt in a long while. You're easily accepted without question and it's like you've known everyone your entire life with how easily they talk with you. Peter, however, is a completely different story. While he's friendly, just like everyone else, he's a little too friendly. You were more than ready to return the teasing innuendos, but then Scott had to burst your bubble by telling you that he was Malia's biological father. Malia, however, is quick to assure you that she and Peter have a rocky relationship and that she doesn't care who Peter chooses to show affection to so long as she didn't have to see it or hear it.

You were hesitant to be so carefree and teasing with Peter afterwards, but the recent lack of male attention had you caving before the week was even over.

"So what happens if your daylight necklace is ripped off?" Stiles asks. It's now Saturday afternoon and everyone is at Derek's, making sure the loft is party ready for later that night. "Do you just burst into flames right then and there?"

"No." You snort. "It starts off as a sizzle and you have seconds to flee to the shadows before bursting into flames." Malia helps you position a keg into a large metal bin, Kira then filling the empty space around it with ice. "And my necklace is spelled. No one other than myself can remove it so I don't have to worry about someone ripping it off."

"I'm not gonna lie, I kind of want to see you burst into flames."

"You're an asshole."

"Actually, I kind of want to see it too," Malia says.

Stiles beams, pointing at Malia and nodding. "See! I'm not the only one."

You glance at Kira and she sheepishly smiles, not even attempting to deter her pack mates who want to see you purposely set yourself on fire. A moment passes before you sigh. "Fine, but you better get me a blood bag or I'm sinking fang into someone's vein."

Stiles is quick to scramble for the kitchen, no doubt making a beeline for one of the few blood bags Derek had tossed into the back of his fridge. You groan but chuckle nonetheless as you look around for the perfect spot and then find it in the corner of the loft just right by the overly large windows. Then settling in the corner with your back against the brick wall, you exhale deeply before carefully reaching behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. Grimacing, you look forward and hold your necklace out for someone to grab. Kira hurriedly steps forward and takes your necklace with gentle hands.

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm doing this." You shakily raise your arm, hand reaching towards the sun rays before your fingers curl into a fist. You sigh, nervously chuckling as you shake your hand out. "Okay. I can do this. It's just a little fire and then I'll heal."

Stiles, Malia and Kira are all eerily silent as they watch you. You're grimacing before the sunlight even touches you and then your whole face is scrunching up when you feel the sizzle before hearing it. Kira gasps and your eyes don't even have to be open to know what they're seeing. Unblemished skin darkening before slowly glowing like burning embers. Seconds later the smoke starts and against your better judgment you hold your ground. At least until you feel your hand igniting in flames and then you're quickly bringing your arm close to your body and patting the fire out.

"Ow, ow, ow." You utter. "Fuck! Give me the blood!"

Stiles is staring at you, wide-eyed, before Malia rolls her eyes and grabs the blood bag from his hands to toss at you. Catching it with one hand, you nod at the werecoyote before dropping fang and biting directly into the bag. At that, Stiles gags. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Pulling your fangs from your snack, you mutter, "Pussy," and then go back to draining the bag.

Stiles gasps in mock offense as the girls chuckle. Your hand had immediately healed after your first gulp, but you drain the bag anyway since you're going to be around a lot of strangers later on.

The loft door slides open and immediately all three wolves wrinkle their noses.

"Why does it smell like burning flesh?" Peter asks. No one says anything, but their eyes slide to you knowingly. You sheepishly smile as you hide the blood bag behind your back. Peter's eyes narrow. "What did you do?"

The heaviness of all their stares makes you squirm. "It was Stiles' idea!"

"Hey!" He barks. "Don't forget about Malia and Kira." Both girls frown at him in betrayal, but he merely shrugs in return. "If I'm going down, I'm taking all of you with me."

All three werewolves sigh, rolling their eyes. Scott and Derek bring in the delicate black lights that need to be fixated around the loft, and the buckets of neon paints. Peter drops whatever was in the brown paper bags he was holding and then saunters towards you. He spots Kira holding your necklace and snatches it from her hands. You subconsciously press your back into the corner, but Peter merely smirks as he unclasps the necklace in his hands and holds it out, waiting to place it around your neck.

"Come on, sweetheart. We don't have all day." Your eyes narrow at his teasing smile and you step towards him so he can put your necklace back on. And since you're facing him, refusing to give him your back, he reaches around you to clasp the necklace at the back of your neck. Then letting it settle against your throat, he untucks your hair from the chain and then gently cusps the sides of your neck in his hands while his thumbs brush along your jawline. His smile drops. "Don't do that again. If Stiles wants to see a fire, let the moron set himself ablaze."

"Hey! I heard that."

You blink in surprise at Peter before he takes his leave, only to see the subtly surprised expression Derek is sporting and the sour expression your brother can't help but show. Malia is indifferent to the exchange, Kira looks rather amused, and Stiles is just put out because he was called a moron. Nothing else is said on the matter, so you quickly flee the corner of shadows and get back to work.

- - - - - - - - - -

The party has only just begun by the time you send Malia and Kira on their way. You had painted both their faces with wolf-like features- Malia in blue and Kira in orange. You had also painted markings along their collar bones, and swirls and floral patterns up and down their arms. They were prepared to wait for you, but you insisted they head on out and that you'd join them soon enough.

You're left alone in Derek's bathroom, bowls of paint and paintbrushes scattered along the counter top as you determine what you want. Eventually you settle for neon green skeletal features, jagged teeth painted over your lips. You outline your neck and collar bones, and then stand there while you fan yourself so the paint will dry.

The faint sound of creaking catches your attention and you immediately glance towards the doorway. Peter stands there, leaning against the door jamb. "Love the handiwork," he says. "Are you taking any requests?"

You faintly grin at him. "No because then that puts the pressure on me to give you exactly what you want. But if you want me to paint you a surprise, then I'm your girl."

"Hmm. My girl. I think I like the sound of that."

"Of course you do." Your eyes roll, but the quirk of your lips tells him you're amused rather than annoyed. "Now get in here. I'll try and make it quick." Peter pushes off the door jamb and walks in, getting up close and personal to your back. You think he's trying to make you squirm, but you merely frown when you realize just how much taller he is than you when you stare at him in the reflection of the mirror. "Well this isn't going to work," you mutter. Pushing the bowls of paint and paint brushes aside, you turn around and hop onto the counter. "There. That's better."

"So much," he says while stepping into the space between your knees.

Snorting, you let the remark slide and grab his face in your hands. Turning his face this way and that way, you hum as you determine what you're going to paint for him. "Wanna match?" You ask. Then without giving him a chance to answer, you grab the bowl with green paint and a paintbrush. "We're gonna match, but you're only getting half a face because I really need to get out there and dance."

Peter fights off a smile as you grasp his chin with one hand and then quickly dip a paintbrush into the green paint with the other. The moment the loaded brush touches the center of his forehead, however, he schools his features so you have an unwrinkled canvas. The left side of his face gets the skeletal treatment, but when that's done you can't help but dip three fingers into purple paint and drag them down the unpainted side of his face.

He grins afterward. "Does this mean I can mark you back?"

"I don't see why not. Just nothing on my face."

Peter carefully coats his entire hand in pink before he looks at you, eyes darting up and down as he determines where he's going to mark. He smirks and then gently wraps his hand around your throat. He leaves it there, squeezing just so, and you gulp beneath his hand.

"Ooohh. Don't threaten me with a fun time." His eyes flare blue in response and you can feel your own eyes change in return as he drops his hand and slowly leans in. You put a hand on his chest to stop his progression. "Seriously, Hale. If you mess up all my hard work before anyone has a chance to see it, I will rip your jugular out."

Peter growls and you quickly lean in to snap your fangs right in front of his face. He shudders and you chuckle lowly before nudging him back and hopping off the counter. After all, you had a party to attend.

- - - - - - - - - -

The party has a bit more people than you'd expected there to be and even Derek seems a bit surly over how any people are in his home. But the DJ is amazing, the drinks are flowing, and the strobe lights are flashing in tune with the beats.

Everyone is lit up, whether it be their clothing or because of the paint, and you readily slide into the dancing masses. You don't seek out anyone in particular, choosing to dance on your own or anyone who sidles up to you in order to have a good time. But the second they get too handsy for your liking, you're shoving them off and moving on.

You're dancing, swiveling your hips and laughing with a few females who were all too happy to have you join them. You turn around, putting the girls at your back when your hands slide up your neck to gather your hair and hold it up off your neck before letting it fall once more. Your eyes somehow manage to find Peter, but the once teasing wolf looks anything but teasing. In fact, he looks rather pissed. And that- that just won't do.

Pushing through the bodies, you eventually make your way towards Peter from behind and tiptoe so your chin hooks over his shoulder. "So who are we killing?" You muse.

He tenses, but upon realizing who it is he's quick to relax. And without missing a beat, he says, "Two o'clock. Apparently this young man, if you can even call him that, has made the mistake of spiking a drink in hopes of giving it to one of the young ladies here. Fortunately, every female he's tried to pawn it off on has been smart enough to not take the pre-made drink."

His words immediately sour your mood. "Well that just won't do."

Before Peter can stop you, you're falling back onto the balls of your feet and practically skipping towards the guy Peter had been murdering with his eyes. A smile here, a touch there, and whispered promises of a good time goes a very long way and it doesn't take long to have the guy following after you. Then as you're about to pass up Peter with Troy (that was the guy's name, the one who was looking to roofie some poor innocent soul) following you, you flash Peter a wink and mutter follow me just loud enough so that he could hear.

You manage to avoid the rest of the pack as you lead Troy out of the loft and into the hallway, manhandling the all too eager dude-bro against the wall. He's a pretty decent looking dude, but his smug aura and tendency to roofie his potential hook-ups is a major turn off. So you tease him with a pretty smile, leaning in so your lips are just centimeters apart.

"Forgive me. I hope I'm not interrupting."

You pull back, turning half way and grinning at the intruder. There stands Peter, looking like he's not sorry at all. But Troy- Troy is annoyed. "Fuck off, man."

"Well that's no way to talk to your betters," Peter drawls.

"Yeah I gotta admit," you say. "That was a dick thing to say."

Troy glances between you and Peter, scoffing. "Whatever. I can find another girl to get laid by back in the party."

He goes to push off the wall, nudging you out of the way, but your hand lands in the middle of his chest before shoving him back into the wall. "I think not." Then meeting his gaze, you smile cruelly as you say, "Do not make a sound."

Troy's mouth opens as if to tell you off, but not a peep comes out. His eyes widen and Peter chuckles as he saunters towards you. "Huh. Having a vampire around could come in handy."

"So says the werewolf," you muse. Troy struggles against your hand, but he's not going anywhere. Not even when he raises a hand to strike you because Peter reaches out with lightning quick reflexes and catches his wrist. You smirk before looking at Troy. "Now that wasn't very nice. I was just going to let you go after scaring you a bit, but now.."

"Now," Peter says, "I think it's time we give you a taste of your own medicine. Let you know how it feels to have something taken from you without your consent." Troy's eyes widen even more while you and Peter snicker at the spike of fear in his scent. "Y/N, will you do the honors?"

"With pleasure." You stare at Troy, willing your features to change right before his very eyes and hissing when your fangs elongate. He renews his struggle in order to get away, but with your strength and Peter's he's going anywhere. "Now this is going to hurt like hell," you coo. "I want you to feel the fear of every girl you ever roofied just so you could get your dick wet."

Your smiling façade drops as you snarl, opening your mouth wider as your head rears back before you lunge forward and sink your teeth into Troy's neck. You feel him stiffen in pain, struggling even more to get away as you harshly drain his life's essence through the wound in his neck. But the second you feel his struggle lessen, you pull back and lick the corners of your mouth.

Peter chuckles darkly as you pat Troy on his cheeks. "Perk up some, will 'ya? I hardly drained an artery."

"Uh, sweetheart? I don't think he can talk."

"Oh. Right!" Catching Troy's gaze once more, you say, "You can make sound again, but you're never going to speak about what just happened. You're going to forget that monsters exist. All you need to know that if you ever see my face or his face again," you compel him while gesturing to Peter who's now standing over your shoulder, "then you're going to remember something terrible happened but you're not quite sure what. You'll just be deathly afraid. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. Also, you're never going to spike another drink ever again. If you ever just THINK about taking anything without the person's consent, you're going to get violently ill and remember the pain in your neck from when I sunk my teeth into it. Got it?"

"Y-Yes."

"Awesome! Now, run along. You're no longer welcomed here."

Troy blinks rapidly, his mind clearing briefly as the compulsion sets in. When he sees you again, and then Peter at your back, his eyes widen before he scrambles to the side and rushes for the elevator. You laugh and wiggle your fingers in a mocking wave. Then the moment he's in Derek's death trap of an elevator and is descending, Peter's crowding you against the wall as he dips down so his hands can grab the back of your thighs and lift you up.

Your legs automatically wrap around his waist and you have a split second of being surprised before his mouth is pressing against yours, tongue licking into your mouth a couple of times, teasing yours, before teeth pull on your bottom lip as he retreats. You groan, hands finding purchase on his shoulders before sliding back and up, and settling at the nape of his neck. "So, uh, violence really does it for 'ya. Huh?"

"You have no idea." Peter leans in once more, nose brushing against yours and leaving you anticipating his next bruising kiss, but he merely presses his lips softly against yours. You whimper and he smirks. "Now, now. Patience is a virtue." You growl and he chuckles. "Trust me. The last thing we need is to get carried away in the hall and-"

"Oh gross. Seriously, you guys!?"

Peter sighs as you jolt in his hold. You're already staring wide-eyed at your brother, so Peter slowly lets you down before bringing you into his side and slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Yes?" He drawls.

Scott wrinkles his nose. "You guys good out here? Stiles said he saw you leave with a stranger and Peter looked a little too happy about it."

"It's fine," you assure him. "Just some guy trying to roofie himself a quick lay." Scott bristles, but your too calm demeanor keeps him from asking questions. "If you're wondering, I just scared him a bit and then sent him on his way."

"Y/N!" He says. "He's just going to go out there and do it again."

"Please," you scoff. "Do you think me dumb, brother? I obviously compelled him."

"She did." Peter smiles. "And it was marvelous. You should have seen it."

"I don't know. It seems to have gotten the both of you amped up so I assume it's something I'd have disapproved of." You and Peter both smile innocently at Scott, and he rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Either rejoin the party or go somewhere else. Don't have sex in the hall. I have to walk through here."

As Scott disappears, you hum and nudge Peter with your hip. "Well would you look at that. You got the alpha's permission to defile his own flesh and blood. Wherever shall we go?"

"I've got a condo downtown."

"Too far. My car is downstairs," you say as Peter chuckles. "We can take the edge off first and then head back to your place."

"Finally! A McCall whose choices I can get behind."

"Are my choices the only thing you'd like to get behind?" You smirk at him, winking, and then start heading towards the elevator. "Lets go, Mr. Wolf. I only have less than a week left in Beacon Hills and I'd like to find out exactly how rough a wolf like you can get."

#peter hale x reader #peter x reader #peter hale imagine #teen wolf imagine #peter hale #scott mccall #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #fanficimagery #imagine

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dreamii-yume · 4 years

Note

We may not have sinfic for Jack yet but at least we have bday crumbs today! He is the perfect combo of primal and size kink with a dash of tsundere blush and fangies so y’all should stop sleeping on him! Can yume please write something to support that?

Who the fck is even sleeping on our boi ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

You look so small in his arms as he hugs you tight, your eyes closed and is brimming with tears. He’s not even fully inside you yet and you’re already writhing with how stretched you are just by the slightest intrusion. Jack is gentle, despite his rough exterior, he cares about your feelings and even if it feels oh-so good being inside you like this, he’s worried. He doesn’t just want to ram himself all in, even if he wants nothing more than to do just that, he doesn’t wanna break you yet. Jack has troubles figuring out whether he’s hurting you or not, you’re clenching hard on him and he doesn’t know if that’s a sign whether to continue or not.

Nevertheless, he won’t be able to resist the call of you pussy, the way you were swallowing his cock just sends shivers down his spine. Jack will enter inch by inch, until he had reached the entrance to your womb. He’ll be extra careful as he pulls out and slam against you once again, he’ll use your reactions as guidance for his next show of affection. He’ll give you time to adjust if you ever need one but he knows when your body had gotten used to his touch and will thrust faster and harder as time goes by. You felt so full at the way his cock fills up your vaginal cavity, it hurts but at the same time, it felt so good, leaving you hungry for more.

You’re just unable to control the way you become slicker and slicker within every thrust. Soon, you’ll find yourself at ease with his kind of penetration method and Jack wouldn’t shy away to advance further. He’ll bite your neck ever so gently but deep enough to leave a mark on you multiple times. You’ll unconsciously wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer, thus allowing his thrust to reach deeper. He’ll stare at your bouncing breast and would even plop a nipple inside, creating a bite mark around.

It doesn’t take long until Jack becomes feral with his movements, he can’t even comprehend his own actions as pounds in and out of you. You just feel so good and your tightness was adding to the satisfaction of being able to pull in and out. Your mind is in shambles as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your insides already used to having something as large as him constantly intruding. Your legs shook as another feat of orgasm was building up in the pits of your stomach, you tried to hold it in by gripping onto the sheets and arching back, you have already came thrice already and one more would just-

“Gaah...!” It was impossible, his thrusts just got you to see stars as your juices violently squirted out of you once more. Luckily, Jack seemed to have noticed that you were practically in the brink of losing concsiousness and slowly can feel his own orgasm building up. Hugging you close, he growled as he sent in a few more thrust to ready yourself for the inevitable seed that will fill you up. It almost got you suffocated as you felt him growing and shooting his load inside until you were filled to the brim.

A few more minutes passed, you remained by Jack’s arms, riding out your high but still remained connected. You both tried to pant out your exhaustion, clearing out your cloudy minds. Well, for the most part, you were the one catching your breath, Jack had just taken in the job of comforting you at this point, you could tell that if you graciously say so yourself that you want to continue, he absolutely will. But you don’t think you just have enough stamina to even cover half of his, so you just gonna make do for now. You turned to him with an apologetic smile. “...Jack, thank you. You were very kind.” You told him, blushing slightly. “Sorry, even though it’s your birthday...”

Jack looked at the other side, a small blush decorating his cheeks. “D-Don’t get me wrong, it’s because it’s the first time after all, and I...” He tried to deny his acts of kindess but trailed off when you just giggling at him. He looked back at you before letting out a heavy sighing, flicking you on the forehead in the process. He looked embarrassed, but he has that rare, handsome smile on his face. You wished he wasn’t so serious and showed that expression more, you always loved it. “...Just don’t expect me to be ‘kind’ the next time. You’re too spoiled, really.”

Oh, it’s cute to see how much bad of a liar he is. It was him who chose to spoil you like this anyway, you just decided to follow through it all. Well, not that you can ever say that, unless you have a reason to tease him about it.

Instead of sleeping on my boi, why don’t you try and just sleep with my boi, huh? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Also, Jack’s crumbs just makes me want to drown in marshmallows and DIE. SO SOFT AAAA It will definitely kill me to write something really dark for him lol

#twisted wonderland #jack howl #Birthday Crumbs (Jack)#Talk with Yume

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ginwhitlock · 3 years

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Southbound : Chapter 6

After the Cullens leave her behind, Bella is left to pick up the pieces by herself. A year after her eighteenth birthday, a split second decision lands her in her truck, running far away from everything she has ever known. She decides to go south. What will she find in San Angelo, Texas?

After Peter left, the air between us felt stagnant, cold, like a pond left uncovered in the first freeze of winter. The man in front of me didn’t smile, didn’t even fake a breath for my own comfort. I know he could feel the shard of glass slowly sinking into the pit of my stomach; the fact of its direction changing, resigning, surpassing my throat to lodge itself in my skull as a sharp ache not lost on me.

And I’m sure, not on him.

I knew Jasper. I had sat feet from him not even years before. What had changed in those aching months? What kind of lust seeped into his unbreakable bones since? This man was toothier, slumping shoulders spread wide against the settee. Who was this brother of his and why did he have Jasper now? I mean— he had explained just moments ago the short extent of Alice and his separation, but the questions were tar in my brainstem: unmoving, guilty, painful. The faint imprint memory of his hand on my knee softened the creases under my eyes. His eyes were nothing if not full of memories.

He scared the shit out of me. The worst part of me liked it.

The keys in my hand were jangling as I wrung my hands against the metal. They were ice cold from Peter’s grip and yet I never shied away from them, I rested into their cut, their steel mill scent. It’s all the comfort I had left in this unfamiliar sandy home.

“You never told me where you meant to end up, Isabella.”

The look on his face hadn’t changed from its hawk-like gaze, his mouth upturned in what was made to be sincere questioning.

My teeth seemed to buzz in my jaw as they clenched. I was stuck between trying to find the answer that made the most sense— but this far away haunted house was nowhere close to where I was headed. To be honest, I hadn’t even made a plan for my drive, the road had been a black licorice rope pulling me deeper and deeper south, its vines unswervable.

Those damn carmine irises were still on my face. My hand settled on the silver scar. “Somewhere without you— your kind.” There's a horrible dread that sinks deep into the pit of my lowest bones, down past the acid lining of my stomach. It wasn’t mine in the first place…

He smiled again. That fangy lip twitch he implemented earlier in his bedroom, his searing white canines glinting in the southern sun. Jasper did some twist of his knuckles as they rested on his denim knee, the bareness of the marble flesh punctuated.

“Do you truly think your life will not continue to be… supernatural?” He paused something big and let his lashes point away from me, his gaze settling right behind my head, “The world has never been that kind. Especially to you, Miss Swan.” The way his tongue curled around my name made something twist in my gut. Something that felt like finally breaching the top of a rollercoaster after clunking around in the seat for several minutes.

I took a breath, “No hope for me then, Mr. Cullen?”

“Whitlock, darlin. Mr. Whitlock.”

His correction was daring and quick, like a dare. The scared shitlessness was starting to turn.

“Oh?” I’m sure my eyes were the size of dinner plates served on the damn moon.

His quirk faltered as he refocused on the skin of my neck. “The Cullens aren’t the biggest fans of the ousted members keeping their name, I’m sure. Whitlock was my human name.”

My lip twitched, “Like Peter?” He did say they were brothers, it would make sense the tanner man kept it while Jasper stayed up north.

“He adopted it when I changed him in the twenties. He didn’t need to remember his own.”

The paint covering the living room walls was starting to feel warmer and warmer. There was a sort of mysticism in the air, the kind of feeling Phil said he got standing on the pitcher’s mound. This charge of electricity. And if I felt it— did the man in front of me do too?

“You changed Peter?”

A hum came from his Adam's apple. I quickly stopped staring at its vibration, focusing on my still hands. “Is that where you got that name? The ‘Major’?” My legs felt like salt blocks sat out for the new fawns.

Jasper kicked his foot out, inches from my own. “All in time, Isabella.”

Why the hell was that the question he kept dodging?

I nodded against my own snooping judgement and sat up straight, gripping the cut key again. “Peter said something about seeing my truck?” As if on cue the sound of a backfire sounding across at least an acre of dirt, the laugh of the man in question following in direct response.

He reminded me of a wilder, leaner, Emmett.

I didn't know if that was a good thing.

The blond rolled his eyes, something I would’ve passed out seeing months ago, which now just made him more and more intriguing. His hand raised without fantastical speed and made an ushering motion, inviting me silently to stand and follow him to the front door, not even twenty feet to our backs. I did as I… wasn't… told and raised to my shuffling feet, watching with barely suppressed intensity as he did the same, his shirt unbunching as his long legs swept past me. His strides were unhurried yet strong, quickly reaching the exit without me. Jasper’s slim fingers turned the knob gently and allowed the now open door to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m sure my brother will find you the moment you start walkin’. I have to get to some business caused by my early departure earlier.” My shoes scuffed the hardwood as I passed by him, the scent of firewood and malt whiskey light in the air of the threshold. I nodded again as I looked back at the giant southerner.

“So I’ll be making it back?” Half joking, half fearful the words slipped past my lips.

He smiled truly that time, his teeth hidden behind his smile. “Of course Isabella. No one plans to kill you… for as long as I can see.”

The door closed slowly as I turned away from him in only slight ease, the sound of his footsteps behind it unrecognizable. Texas dry wind called to me from the bare porch, wooden planks creaking ever so slightly underneath my weight. The world was quiet— in only a way nature could be quiet. Silence without loneliness.

Another diesel racket sounded over the slight hill in the property, some of the only patches clustered with shruby, overgrown trees.

“Bell!”

There was a smile hiding under the surface of my skin, not the least undetectable. My stride started up again as I half jogged through the crab grass and rusty dirt. It had to be almost two or three o’clock now, the sun high and bright in the cloudless sky.

Had the day gone by so fast— or so slow?

I couldn’t decide which it was. Not yet. Not now.

The baked exterior of my cab was just in sight over the small hill, somehow further away from the bare dirt trail than it had been this morning. Had the black eyed man… moved it? It didn’t run, at least not by my hand, he would’ve had to have pushed it… or picked it up.

God, Peter was starting to turn out more and more like the biggest Cullen boy by the second.

My shoes were caked in dead weeds and clay dust by the time I reached the freckled vampire— an attribute I still hadn’t made sense of. His cowboy hat was a stark black against his darkened porcelain skin. He smelt rough like a redwood forest, something private. Secluded. Peter’s hands were covered in the ink black of motor oil and grease, the solutions clinging to his perfect fingernails.

He had to be related to Jasper somehow, there's no way he wasn’t. I was sure of it.

Or maybe I was just hoping.

Silly girl.

His eyes could’ve mirrored his brother’s and I wouldn’t have noticed anything past the sight just behind him: my truck was pulled at the seams.

“Sorry bun, I think your baby might need some extra attention before it gets anywhere near a highway.” My breath was loose in my throat, air whistling behind my eyes. The transmission was the only thing complete under the hood. The engine block was propped up by a chain tied to a lone pecan tree, the rest of the assembly laid out on a blanket on the pitted ground. The well of tears hit the back of my eyes before he started to speak.

“I had to take the engine apart to diagnose the problem— something to do with some coils. It ain’t as bad as it looks, I promise, Bell.” I nodded for the fiftieth time that day, my words fleeting in the paralysing tunnel that had become my voice box. The only thing I had kept when I left was now in pieces at my feet, the soil unforgiving and rough against the cotton blanket they sat on. The downpour of fear came down my sinuses and filtered out through my spine, the tips of my fingers pulsing with thunder. Peter stood, apathetic to the storm raging through my body, his stance curling around my own slightly, as if in defense to the world around us, to the truth in front of me.

“How long will it take to fix?” My voice was weak and pitiful, stripped of its playful kick Peter initially instilled.

He twitched his shoulders in a shrug. “Could be a week or more. Maybe two.” His own speech didn’t reflect his burdening appearance. It was almost airy, a light glee hidden subtly behind the consonants.

My brain stored the small inflection for a much later time.

“You know,” he started, his massive wiped hand drawing to my shoulder, “me and the Major don’t mind some company around the house. The old thing could use some life in it while your truck gets some beauty work done.” His suggestion wouldn’t have sounded like such a question if anyone else had uttered it, but the draw of the Whitlock boys held a certain power over my otherwise powerless existence, at the moment. I wanted answers, stories, the in and outs of the clan I had called family as a younger girl.

I wouldn’t admit to anyone else my other wants.

Hell, I couldn’t even admit them to myself yet.

I made a sound in the back of my throat that made up for another nod and pursed my lips in false thought, the field stretching before me in an unwavering sea of curiosity.

“Only until she's fixed. I’ve served my time living with vampires for two lifetimes.”

There was an explosion of a laugh from Peter’s tan lips and I smiled in turn. The truck was a cesspool of terrifying possibilities, insecurities. But for right now, the horrible itch in my brain led me further into the immortal light.

The cold digits of the human drinker felt featherlight against my back as he sputtered to an airy stop. “You are truly something Bell.” My teeth poked through my lips as I looked into his face and found simple lineless skin and sandy curls. My eyes rested back on the rusted out birthday present and sighed. “Do you want any help?” It sounded almost like a plea, the time splitting me farther and farther.

He shook his head with vigor. “Baby doll, I’m not sure you’d make it go any faster.”

I had half a mind to slap him on the chest, no matter the bruising I’d sustain.

“I’m not that dimwitted.”

He sucked unneeded air through his teeth and let me go, stepping towards the hull. “Just believe me.”

I shook my head like a dumped dog and looked back towards the house, just barely noticeable at this distance. The question bounced around my stomach before it left my mouth, “What is Jasper up to?”

Peter raised a brow and picked up an impact wrench.

“I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

#southbound #my writing #jasper x bella #mine #writing #fanfiction #twilight #thetwilightsaga #twilight fanfic

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mybloodybaes · 3 years

Note

House (with pics if possible 👀)

house: do u have any pets? do u want any?

Friendo you are gonna have a fun time seeing all the chilluns!

So first up, we have DAMSEL. The absolute sparkle in my life, my precious lil baby ferret who is basically our child. She is incredibly smart but also VERY cunning and a little daredevil. We often joke about how she would harass the hell out of slashers, like chasing Brahms around or stealing Bo's things and pissing him off even more.

Next up! We have the lovely, trying his best in life, Billiam the Axolotl! I got him for my birthday a few years ago, because all I wanted was an axolotl to love and dote on and take care of. He's.. he doesn't have very many brain cells, and he has extra toes and a crinkle in his tail from not being taken care of properly before I got him, but gosh darn it do I love him to bits! I'm planning to get him a bigger tank here soon and decorating it with all kinds of fun goodies.

Next we have my beloved brothers that we adopted as a pair. We actually rescued them back when we were homeless and living out of our car, but they would have been bait for attack dogs (dog fighting) if we didnt. They helped us so much emotionally, and they're both healthy, happy and silly boys. Eddie Gluskitten has a more round face and a darker orange color mixed with his white coat. He's very soft and affectionate, always wanting to politely ask for things when he mews. Richard Tragpurr or Trager is a bit.. funny. He tilts his head like an owl a lot, but he gets away with all atrocities because he is my Grandma's favourite and he constantly cuddles up to her. And yes, the brothers are absolutely named after the antags from Outlast. The Devs know my cats exist too and adore them on social media when I share them. In the future if we ever get more cats, I def need a Frank Manera lykoi, and rhe most sleek Val possible.

Last but not least, we have big chungus himself, aka Kyun. Also fondly called 'the Rhombus', 'Kyunbus', 'Kyubie', among other affectionate names. Kyun though, is actually the name of a Katamari cousin that is described as 'a weird, gray shape!' So, it fits him well lol. We found him years ago on a truck wheel well in the middle of the night outside of a McDonalds, mewling up a storm as a lil abandoned kitten. After being washed up, cleaned up, fed lovingly for a bit, I couldn't let him go, so he became my lil buddy. I think he's a russian blue at his core, but I also think he's a bit inbred since he's had some health problems and has an adorable overbite with his lil fangies hanging out. He's getting pretty old now, but I still love him to death.

#pets #meme asks #my furkids #long post

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rex-ray · 2 years

Note

fangy boi about to trauma you here he comes hehe 🩸

He chuckles as feel your fear build up, shocking you into silence. It's okay, he was patient, he could wait to hear your voice. He feels merciful as he pulls your intertwined hands out of the wound, pulling your finger to his lips.

The poor blood is more tasteful when it's covering your skin. Licking the blood away, he growls softly. The pumping blood in your jugular right by his teeth is loud, too much for him not to dare to scrap his fangs against your delicate skin once more - desperate to subside him. He's so hungry.

“Now, I think it's time our little one here to learn his lesson for being so rude,” He pushes your hand away, his lips licking the drops rolling down his chin. He pushes you away too, letting you drop at his feet as he stalks toward the man. “Leo, isn't it? Or was it, Cleo? Oh, what importance is it..”

He chuckles darkly, his eyes darkening as his fingers press on his jaw, pushing his head to the tide. His tongue passes over the cut already, made. It's poor and unfulfilling but now compared to your blood still on his lips, he's tasteless. “Food is food, huh?”

His teeth tear the skin of the skin, his tongue at the ready to collect each red drops. He doesn't mind the whimpering or the screams, mind overwhelmed by the final offering. He's been starved for too long, his body pains, but it'll be better now that Ecco found him a refillable drink to his reach.

He glimpses at you, looking over the shoulder of the man he's holding up. Yes, you'll be more than enough by now. He moans as he fills his strength builds back up along his senses deepening. He smile at the hearing of the chanting outside. This is reviving, like fire spreading through his veins. But not enough.

The man drops lifeless to the floor after a loud crack of his neck twisting to the side. Jeremiah heaves as he finds his breath back. His mouth down to his white shirt is tainted in red but he can't find himself to care. “Ecco,” He calls, eyes still on you. “You've find me a rare prize.. One that deserves a slight change of plan.”

His darkened eyes leave you to lift to the door where the woman stands. His lips widen - the blood on his teeth contrasting to his pale skin. “And I am still most hungry. Find me another course to replace our lovely here, would you, dear?”

A horrified shudder escapes me as he pulls my hand away; my fingers snug against his lips tongue licking the tips hungrily. My eyes instinctively shut as he nears my face. His breathe is hot against my neck as he lingers over the delicate skin for a moment too long before he pushes me away with a quick shove. The force in its self knocks me to the floor; I can’t even throw my hands out before I’m on the floor the fabric of the gown gathered around me. A quick gasp of air crashes into my lungs as I stare at the cold concrete, unable to look anywhere else. The man chuckles deep in his chest it’s an unnatural sound guttural and gut wrenching.

Then I hear it.

Like a first bite of a ripe apple on a fall day a sickening crunch followed by a pop and a myriad of horrendous screams that ring through the small chamber, one right after the other until they die into a grueling mewl of a whimper. My fingers curl under my palms as I dare look over my shoulder, a shock of pain shoots up my spine at the sight.

Theo, Cleo whatever his name was dangling on his tiptoes as the other man now soaked in his...blood held him up by his neck. Our eyes met for just a moment before he bit down on the gaping wound in his victims neck enticing a dying cry of mercy. Crimson flooded down the front of both of them soaking the murders’ shirt in a dark dampness. I feel shaky, my limbs like jello as I find myself frozen to watch the two in some type of nasty tango... the pale man moans as his lips fall off the other man letting him sink to the floor, not before he takes hold of his head and snaps it to one side.

I can’t even find the strength to scream as the door creaks open as he calls out casually to the other side. His eyes watching me this a sort of delight, swirling with a aura of hypnotic intrigue as he wipes his mouth on his stained sleeve.

My throat lets out a croaked whine finding it run dry as I try to crawl back as he leans forward.

Find me another course to replace our lovely here, would you, dear?”

@seldomabsent

#fangy miah 🩸#self indulgence time #getting myself in trouble i see #good fucking luck getting him off your ass now 👀#I AM TRAPPED #seldomabsent #how rude dinner and no name

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lindyloosims · 3 years

Text

Johnny:

Living with the Vatores was an education. I had spent months holed up in a dark room coming to terms with the fact that I no longer had a pulse, that I could never sit in the sun again and that I could only drink blood from now on until fuck knows how long. Those were the cons, the pros were eternal life, looking forever like a guy in my twenties, super strength, heightened senses, ridiculous speed and as I got the hang of this vampire thing Lilith was going to teach me to hone my unique skill whenever it decided to present itself. Hers was mindreading, Caleb’s was the art of persuasion, knowing my luck mine would be talking to bats or some lame shit like that!

I was feeling better about the whole thing, seeing Clancy again brought back memories for me, happy and sad. He gave me a reason to fight on but at the same time he made me realise that I had to let Cassie go, there was no way I could ever bring her into this kind of life...so I gave up on ever getting to touch her again. Lilith and Caleb invited me downstairs for a chat, trying to get me to come out of my dark room.

LILITH: Johnny sweetie, Caleb and I would like a word.

They sat me down, Caleb was smirking and Lilith was giving me her usual doe eyed gaze. She had been so kind to me, there was no way I could ever repay her for what she and her brother had done for me. Finding me and taking me in, protecting me from Vladislaus Straud and his minions. I felt so stupid falling for that phone call, Vlad pretending to be a talent agent and luring me here, to the biggest vampire town around! Hindsight is a wonderful thing and what was done was done. As Lilith gave me that cute little fangy smile of hers, I felt at ease, despite Caleb’s grey eyes bearing down on me from across the room.

LILITH: Johnny? Honey, we want to run something by you if you don’t mind.

JOHNNY: Oh crap, you want me to leave, don’t you?

LILITH: What? N-no, where did you get that idea from? Gods!

JOHNNY: I just...I’ve been here a while now and...aren’t you sick of me? Haven’t I outstayed my welcome?

LILITH: Of course not sweet boy! We love having you here!

CALEB: Um, hello? You might, but I didn’t sign up for another dude in this house! No offence Zest, but I prefer not to get Vladislaus’s hackles up by harbouring a wanted man!

Caleb may have saved my life, but he really didn’t like having to compete for his sister’s attention. He was completely devoted to her, he had a special someone in his life but rarely mentioned them, he focused all of his time on Lilith.

LILITH: Ignore my knucklehead of a brother Johnny darling, he’s extremely self-entitled! What we wanted to ask you is very important, what you need to know is that you are under no obligations, whatever you decide is completely up to you, okay?

JOHNNY: S-sure.

LILITH: My brother and I founded a vampire society many years ago with like minded senior vampires of this town who were tired of Vladislaus and his dictatorship! He was a member in the beginning but we had to vote him out for trying to corrupt the more vulnerable among us. We thought he was seriously considering our way of life here but in actual fact he was just trying to tear us apart from the inside. That left us with only 11 in the group, it would be nice to round it up to a healthy 12 again, so...

LILITH: What we’re asking of you Johnny is simple, will you commit to us and join The Order of Osiris?

CALEB: All joking aside, we would be honoured if you would take that twelfth place Johnny.

LILITH: So, what do you say sweet pea?

LILITH: Will you join us?

Previous_Next

From The Beginning

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mischiefandspirits · 4 years

Text

Doppelgänger (5/?)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Fright Night}

“So a trio of ghosts need to create a haunted house room,” Danny said, smirking at his partners as he dropped down on his bed.

“Think we could just stick Audrey II in there and call it a day?” Tucker asked and sat backwards on the desk chair.

Sam shrugged and sat next to Danny so she could put his head in her lap. “If I stopped pruning her, she should be big enough to give someone a scare by then. I don’t think just one thing will cut it though.”

“We could bring in some more plants for you to move around and have it be a haunted jungle,” Tucker said.

“Oh, so Danny makes a stupid bet and I have to do all the work.”

“Hey, I’m the one who gave Twoey sentience and unless you force her with your powers, she only listens to me. I think that counts for something,” Danny pointed out.

“You know, what is it with you and the non-sapient ghosts and ecto-beings?” Tucker asked. “Twoey, Cujo, those will-o'-wisp blob things that follow you around when we’re in the zone. You’d think Sam would be the one they're attracted to with her nature thing.”

Danny hummed and pressed into Sam’s hand so she’d start carding her fingers through his hair. “Well, like I said, I brought Twoey to life, so maybe she imprinted on me. And Cujo might just be able to sense that you guys hate dogs.”

“We don’t hate dogs. They're just loud and annoying,” Sam said.

“And Cujo is literally as demonic as his namesake,” Tucker added.

“He’s a good boy and this is why he doesn’t like you.”

“He trashed a lab for a toy!” Tucker said.

“And they put him down. Fair's fair.”

“Can’t disagree with you there,” Sam said with narrowed eyes. She’d launched quite the internet scandal when she’d dug up why, exactly, the old kennels she’d found the toy in were abandoned. “Back to the matter at hand though, you still haven’t explained the blobs.”

Danny blushed. “I, uh, might feed them chips sometimes when they show up while I’m cleaning the lab.”

There was a moment of silence before both his partners started snickering.

“Don’t feed the wildlife, Danny,” Sam said mockingly.

“All this time, they’ve been the ghost equivalent of pigeons.”

“Not pigeons! They're actually really sweet. Like… hummingbirds!”

“Sure, dude.”

“Whatever you say, Danny.”

“Can we just get back on topic? Sam, you’re goth, shouldn’t that make you our resident creepy person. What would go good with a living jungle and a literal man-eating plant?”

Sam patted his cheek condescendingly, but leaned back to plot. “I had something else planned, but if you guys insist on the jungle idea…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This has to beat whatever Dash has,” Danny said as the trio looked over the room.

Audrey II’s pot had been attached to the ceiling so her stalks could hang down, dripping -- thankfully only harmful to ectoplasm -- acid. Once the haunted house was open, she’d been instructed to snap at anyone who came near. She luckily didn’t like the taste of humans so there wasn’t any worry about her going overboard.

Sam had brought in some crawling vines and tropical plants to cover the walls and floor so she could have them tug at or trip people as they moved through the room and make it harder for people to find their way through.

Danny’s herd of blobs were drifting around the makeshift jungle, making soft lights flicker through the semi-darkness.

Tucker had set up electric field generators to give the room an eerie feeling.

The pièce de résistance, however…

“Did you get it set up?” Sam asked.

“Try it out,” Danny said.

The boys watched as she walked over to an archway on one side of the room. She walked through it, only to come out an archway on the opposite side a second later.

“Yes!” Tucker cheered, high-fiving Danny. “Thank you, Space Fold!”

Sam tested out all the other archways to be sure they had a similar effect then came over to join the boys. “Congratulations, you’ve built a cartoon hallway.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t think of it,” Danny said and she ruffled his hair.

“Well, my work here is done. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Tucker grabbed the empty pumpkin-shaped candy bucket waiting by the door, “I’m a little late to start scamming some free candy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny flinched when Sam pinched him for squirming.

“I’m almost done, you big baby.”

“Sorry if I’m a little creeped out by you sticking sharp things very close to my eyes.”

“Just be glad you don’t need contacts. There, perfect.”

Danny smiled when Sam held up a mirror. His hair was covered by a long, braided black wig that a crown of thorns sat atop. His face had been given a slight green tint while his lips were a deep forest. His smile showed off fangs that were just as long and sharp as their ghost form’s and prosthetic ears gave him the same points. Dark makeup made his eyes look sunken, which highlighted his eyes when he let the red of his ghost form glow through. His hands had been given claw-like fake nails before being dipped into blood-red paint while he’d been dressed in black and dark green princely clothes. It all came together to make him look like a ghastly elfin prince.

He stood up and turned to Sam. “Thanks, Sam. This is great.”

She frowned and shook her head. “No, more brooding.”

“I really don-”

She pointed a finger in his face. “You wanted my help. This is me helping. More brooding. Imagine all the light draining from your soul.”

Danny pushed her hand away. “You’re just using this as an excuse to make me goth for a night.”

“Only for a night, but yeah. It’s a good look on you. Now brood or I’ll leave and you can do without my plants.”

Danny rolled his eyes, then tried to channel his angstiest self.

Christmas Danny.

Sam blinked at his scowl. “Wow, I didn’t think you could even get that dark. You’re usually our resident prep.”

Jingle Bells. Gingerbread. SANTA.

Danny shoved it all down, but the scowl only lessened slightly. “That’s because your family always goes away for the holidays.”

Sam looked confused, but didn’t get a chance to ask before they heard footsteps approaching. She transformed, saying, “Showtime. Maybe lose the anger a little.”

“I’ll try.”

She disappeared and all the plants except Audrey II started to sway and glow slightly. They seemed to thicken, making it impossible to see more than a few feet into the room.

Danny shooed the flytrap’s stalks up towards the roof. “Alright, Twoey, just like we practiced. Remember, be a good girl and you get a nice big bottle of ectoplasm as a treat.”

One of the lobes nuzzled him then they all retreated into the darkness Tucker had carefully maneuvered the lights to create on the ceiling.

“This is why she likes us. We spoil her,” a voice whispered in his ear.

“I don’t… I only spoil her a little.”

Sam chuckled and he felt her drift off.

“Mr. Fenton, it’s time,” William Lancer said as he arrived at the door to the room Daniel had taken. It was painted with toxic green glowing runes and vines as well as the words, The Kingdom of Thorns.

The door creaked open slowly to reveal Daniel standing a few feet away.

Automatic door, nice touch, William noted. The boy was also in a more elaborate costume than Dashiell’s. His contacts were actually a bit disconcerting with how the light made them appear to glow. It wasn’t helped either that the normally cheerful, if downtrodden, boy had on a scowl that looked rather resentful and fell.

The boy gave a graceful bow. In an empty voice, he announced, “Welcome. May your stay be eternal.”

A shiver went up William’s spine. The boy’s voice sounded off. Echoey-perhaps, except it didn’t sound like Daniel’s voice echoing back. More like multiple someones were whispering his words alongside him. Some sort of speaker setup, maybe? But the teacher swore the voices were coming from Daniel.

Pushing down the emotions, William pointed to the door. “I hope that’s not permanent.”

“What?” The eerie expression and voice were gone in a blink. “Oh, yes. I mean no, it’s not permanent. It’s just a little ectoplasm from my parent’s lab. I have the dissolving agent.”

That… was not as comforting as Daniel seemed to think it should be. “Is that safe?”

“Yeah, sure. Pure ectoplasm is harmless to humans in small doses. You could eat the amount on there and still be perfectly fine. It’s the charged stuff that’s dangerous.”

Still not as comforting as the boy’s smile made it out to be. “Right. Shall we begin?”

Daniel gave a toothy -- fangy? -- grin and stepped to the side, gesturing William forward.

The door slammed closed once the teacher started walking, not close enough to hit, but enough that he could feel the breeze of it passing on the back of his neck. He glanced back and was surprised to see vines covering the door. He made note of it.

“You’re free to roam, but I would stick to the path,” Daniel said as William passed him, his show voice back on and just as creepy as the first time. “And I wouldn’t recommend eating anything. Or being eaten.”

William glanced back, only to see the boy was gone. But he had just heard him right behind him.

He shook his head and continued forward.

So far the room itself didn’t look particularly scary. It mostly looked like a poorly lit and abandoned greenhouse without the glass walls and ceiling. Though there was the odd lights flying about, like fireflies the size of softballs. The plants almost seemed to be moving as well, like in the wind though William couldn’t feel anything, and he swore they were glowing a bit. Some sort of paint?

“You didn’t put anything harmful on these plants, right?”

“Of course not,” whispered something in his ear and he jerked away. He looked around, but couldn’t see anything.

“No, they’re Sam’s. She’d kill me if I hurt her plants,” came Daniel’s normal voice from somewhere across the room.

“G-Good.”

“Are you alright, Mr. Lancer? You’re not lost are you?”

“No, Mr. Fenton.” He shook himself. He must have been hearing things. He took a step forward and immediately felt like he’d stepped into something, or through something. He rubbed his arms as goosebumps began to crawl up them. He made a note and quickly moved on.

After a few moments more of the random goosebumps and the feeling of vines or leaves brushing him despite being sure he wasn’t getting close to any of the plants, he reached an archway. The teacher frowned and he pulled aside the curtain to look in. He swore the passage was supposed to lead directly into the next room, but instead he found a short hallway. It appeared to be a pitch-black void littered in stars that went on forever, but directly ahead, perhaps two feet in, was another doorway with a curtain. Some sort of mirror trick?

He made another note and walked carefully through the hall. Perhaps it was the star pattern, but he almost felt weightless as he passed through. He pulled the curtain aside… and found himself in the room he’d started in? But that was impossible! And yet, the windows were on the archway’s left, just as they had been for the arch he’d come from. The chandelier hanging above, original to the house though Daniel had wrapped it in vines, was also the same one that had been in the previous room. He must have curved around, except he was sure he’d gone in a straight line.

“Something wrong, Mr. Lancer?”

The teacher jumped and spun around to find Daniel standing right next to him, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes. His head was tilted almost unnaturally to the side and he was giving his usual smile, though the sharp fangs made it feel like he was baring his teeth instead. Some of the flying lights were perched on his crown, but their shapes were indistinct which made it appear the crown was alight with swirling green flames.

“Just-just taking in your creativity, Mr. Fenton. I wish you would put such effort into your schoolwork.”

His grin grew and his eyes glowed brighter. “What can I say, I guess I have an affinity for all things ghostly and dead.” He turned on his heel and disappeared into the foliage. “I’ll leave you to it.”

If William was shaking as he moved through the room, there was no one around to tell. He kept a careful eye out, but even still it felt like more plants were brushing against him and he was in a constant state of goosebumps. Then, just as he reached the center of the room, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

He shrieked and spun around, dropping his clipboard in the process. There was no one there. He looked all around him, but couldn’t find any sign of a person.

Something creaked above him.

He slowly looked up and saw something moving in the shadows, multiple long necks and wide heads with gaping maws.

“Mr. Lancer?”

“The Iliad and the Odyssey!” William shouted, looking down to see Daniel standing right in front of him, looking worried.

Aside from his glowing crown, none of his showman’s grace was on him anymore. Not even in his voice as he glanced down and said, “Oh, you dropped your stuff.”

William’s eyes widened as he spotted the three long stalks that had lowered down from the ceiling, each carrying the heads of a horror-movie approximation of a venus flytrap. The flat lobes were all around a foot long and would have looked normal, if not huge, except for the toxic green acid dripping from their centers.

At the same time that Daniel leaned down, one of them shot forward to strike like a snake, its jaws closing around the space his head had been not a moment before. They all darted back to the ceiling as Daniel stood up, appearing his normal awkward and helpful self.

He held out William’s pen and clipboard. “Here you go.”

The teacher’s hands were shaking as he took his things from his student.

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I guess we might have gone a little overboard. Was it the halls? I can take those out.”

Something grabbed William’s ankle. “No! No, it was wonderful. Leave it as is. I just remembered I have somewhere to be.”

“So… does that mean…”

“Yes, Mr. Fenton. You win. Now how do I get out of here?”

Daniel pointed to the side.

There was a straight path to the door that most definitely had not been there before.

William shook the vine off his leg and walked quickly out of the open door.

Danny threw his hands up and cheered as soon as the door shut behind Lancer. He turned and gave Sam a high-five. “That was great! He didn’t even stay long enough to see Twoey in action.”

“We’re an oblivious idiot,” she said as she turned visible.

“What do you mean?”

She plucked off one of the blob ghosts nuzzling his head and shook her own. “Nevermind. Come on, we’ve got a few new ideas from that test run.”

“Cool.”

“By the way, that line about eating ectoplasm. We haven’t actually done that, right?”

“Well, not on purpose, but you’ve seen my house. Sometimes a bit of ectoplasm ends up in the food.”

“We’re never eating at our house again.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I never let you guys stay for dinner when my parents or I cook and Jazz sterilizes everything so she never gets ectoplasm in anything.”

“Never again.”

“And besides, we’re ghosts now. Ghost food is made of ecto-”

Sam put her hand over his mouth. “Never.”

He nodded. Once she’d removed her hand and floated off, he muttered, “It’s not even bad as long as the food doesn’t come to life. Just kind of citrusy.”

“We’re going to throw up!”

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #mr lancer #fright night #Doppelgänger au

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deathstakes · 3 years

Text

How to be Buffy Summers — A Slayer How-To Guide: Tips, tricks and wood chips.

PREFACE: So you want to be the Slayer, huh? Well, newsflash. Everyone wants to be the hero. In the movies, it is flashy and cool. Well, here is a newsflash. Slaying isn’t exactly glam-o-rama. The movies really pump up the whole what it is like to be a hero, and let me tell you, it isn’t as cute.

Disclaimer: You might have heard a lot from the fang-population. They like to spread their gossip faster than a bunch of ladies sipping their afternoon tea. I’m here to clear the rumours and give you the insiders scoop.

I am more than just the Slayer. I am also Buffy. They go hand in hand like…. Hands going in hand. I like my weapons as much as I love a good sale. There’s nothing wrong with liking pink, dressing cute and also being able to kick some major ass, and trust me, if you ever doubt it, I can show you what a Slayer really is.

TIPS, TRICKS AND WOODCHIPS

1. There is nothing fashionable about eye bags. Concealer is your best friend.

Patrol usually ends around 3 a.m, if the vampires aren’t biting much. If I am lucky, I get about four hours of sleep a night, and if I am even luckier those four hours are free of nightmares or weird, cryptic-y apocalyptic messages. Most of the time, I am not, and my dreams aren’t steamy with Swayze but the uglies, but we never go past second base because they always seem to die when they try to handle my stake.

Those sleepless nights are going to make you want to wear a caffeine drip. Speaking of, coffee will be your other best friend. Thank me later.

Oh, and you’re also going to need a concealer for the bruises. Trust me on this, you’re going to find bruises in places you didn’t even know you could have bruises. Those rough tumbles aren’t without consequence. Sure, they’ll go away in a bit, but in the meantime, do what Elsa said. Conceal, don’t feel. Cover it with translucent powder to really set it in and don’t forget to colour correct! This works for both bruises and for those vampire bites. Totally hickey-proof.

2. Sisterly duties.

Make sure Dawn is up for the school day. I used to get up much easier, in my opinion. Also, remember to pack a stake in her lunch and some holy water, just in case. You never know when she is going to need them considering she has a habit of getting kidnapped every other Tuesday. Replenish the supply every so often and get your witchy best friend to put in protection trinkets that you can slip into her backpack.

IMPORTANT: When it comes to her safety, nothing is off limits, at all. Monsters will play dirty if they have to, and the ones closest to you are the most susceptible. It’s a hard knock life.

3. Because this gig isn’t really big on the paying front, you also need a day job. Glamorous.

Remember that thing about how being a superhero isn’t like how it is in the movies. I was being dead serious about that. There isn’t a batmobile or really cool headquarters, unless you want to count the Magic Shop, and oh, that thing about getting paid? Hah. Yeah, you’re not really going to be rolling in the dough unless it is cookie dough. It is a whole, long-winded thing, so just make sure you have some resistance to temptation when you see a really, really good shoe sale. I am talkin’ goes with everything, cute but also practical heel. Don’t do it.

You might have to play pool shark, might need to flip some burgers and learn how to give your Buffy best smile while being dead inside, or you might need to bust an undercover demon black market. Get creative. Just don’t rob a bank. Morals still apply, you know.

TIP: Having a boyfriend who is good at forging credit cards is really helpful. Though, sometimes, he gets too crafty with the aliases.

4. Unchipped manicures? Puh-lease.

I’m going to give it to you straight, so it doesn’t get hard later on. You know that feeling of freshly painted nails? Don’t get used to it. There has yet to be a patrol that I go on that doesn’t end up with me chipping my polish.You’d think someone would get into the market for this stuff and break the bank, but nope. Well, considering I would probably be their only customer... Don’t even think about acrylics, who has the time and also, not great for grip. Gel? You’d think it would hold, but let me tell you, not even the best formula can stand against the roughest of tumbles.

Having pretty, polished nails was nice while it lasted. That isn’t to say I don’t do my nails, now, because I do. I’m not letting fangs take that away from me. They already took away my sleep.

5. Healing.

So, right about now, you might be starting to realize that being a superhero isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. So, let me throw in a decent thing. This isn’t to get recruits or anything. This job position is filled until further notice (or until I get the axe.) One of the good things about the gig is that you heal faster. That isn’t to say you don’t get hurt, because oh boy, do you get hurt. The pain aspect is still there, but you’ll heal a broken bone in days compared to weeks only to break it again. I’ve made with the stabby, and gotten out of the hospital the same night because I was healing quickly. Other than the limping, the bruises that go away in a day or two and the scars are barely there scars, you’re golden.

But that doesn’t mean that I am invincible.

If Slayers were invincible, I wouldn’t be here.

I still have my scars (the ones that can be seen) on my neck. From the Master, from Angel and those couple rounds with Dracula that I went, but that’s for another time. The naked eye can’t really see them, but get me under some great selfie taking lighting and it's there, just a sheen paler than my skin tone.

TIP: If you are trying to hide fresh ones, try scarves. Fashionable, but practical. Ascots if you’re into looking like Fred Jones, hubba hubba.

6. The weapon of the tongue. No, not that weapon.

Anyone can learn high kicks and how to throw a punch. Well, most anyone, anyways. But if you really want to know the inner workings of how to be Buffy, try me on for size. I only come in a small, though. When I do my rounds, I like to provide a double feature slayer combo, you know? Throw in a pun or two between my punches, give them a real show. You know why? It gets them going. It drives them crazy, and they get angry. That anger helps fuel the whole show. Also, I am great at talking circles, so sometimes, you just keep going and going and watch their undead brains try to scramble it together, and while they are doing that?

PRESTO-POOF-O.

It really is a Buffy skill, even if Giles doesn’t think so.

Well, except when it gets me in trouble because part of being me is realizing that my mouth speaks faster than my brain tends to comprehend and then it just becomes a whole intangible tangent that really shouldn’t even be called a tangent, because really, who---

7. Sacrificing fashion for slayage.

This one hurts me to write. This one hurts me because it is still something I struggle with, but what can I say? I’m a lifelong learner, dedicated to becoming the best. Nerd alert. There was a time when I used to dress cute. You know, the minis and the halters? The to-die-for booties? Well, guess what? Long gone are those days. Now, I aim for pr… for… prac… for practical. Sorry, it is still a touchy thing.

That doesn’t mean you still can’t dress cute, because you totally can. Have I given up my style? Nope, not a chance, and hey, sometimes my halters still see the life of patrol because I believe when we look and feel our best, we slay the best (Can I get an amen?) I wear booties all the time, but it’s because I know how to run in heels.

Body con dresses and tight skirts? Save them for a day you aren’t slaying, because otherwise, you’ll be sitting in a bank and suddenly be faced with a bank-robbing demon and you’ll have to slit your favorite pencil skirt with shears so you have enough leg room to fly-kick that ugly.

That was a nice skirt, it was.

8. Accessorizing is important.

It is no secret that accessorizing can make an outfit go from nay to yay. Come on, that is a given. But, being the Slayer, there are some accessories I have to make sure that I am wearing at all times. Keeping a cross on you all the time would be too bulky, and it isn’t for the religious aspect of things, so what do I do? Cross necklaces, chokers, rings or little dangly earrings can be the perfect way of making a vampire weak in the knees. Also, punching with rings really hits differently. For them, not me.

Keep some scarves on you, too, because well, it isn’t any of my business what happens to your necks, fangy or not.

TIP: Scrunchies? Make great face flingers if you need a real quick distraction to get out of a fangy situation. Just some tricks of the trade, you are welcome.

9. That appetite.

Let’s get personal, here. You think that you’re going to do all that cardio and vamp-ass slayage and not feel like you could eat a horse? Oh, it’s bad. Sometimes, the first thing I do when I am done patrol is hit whatever place is open or go straight for the fridge. It’s never cravings for a salad, either, nope. It’s 3 a.m, and all you want is a stack of double chocolate chip pancakes, some sunny side up eggs, hash and extra greased up bacon, maybe even some triple scoop chocolate shakes.

Dawn says she always feels like she is interrupting the fridge and I when she walks in on us, because my head is just always sticking inside it, but what do kids know, huh?

Also… there is another kind of appetite. This is why this book isn’t in the kids section. We’re all grown ups here. Sometimes, all you need is to get rid of that tickle that seems to always find a place. It’s explosive until you give in and have to do something about it. It’s kind of why I prefer solo-slaying, it gets real intimate.

A low-fat yogurt does the trick, too.

10. Weapons, ooh.

So, we talked about the power of words, but here comes the good stuff. Let me tell you, nothing feels good as the first poof after a freshly shaven stake. I never thought I would ever admit to that, but here we are. It is important to always keep your weapons ready to fight like it was the end of the world, because most times? It is.

Try to keep a knife in your boots. Pockets are important because you can slip in stakes discreetly enough, but don’t make them too bulky. Keep important spells on your phone because you’re not carrying around books everywhere you go. Never forget your phone, your gloss, crosses and holy water. You know, the essentials.

My favourite weapon? My precious baby. My scythe. It looks sweet and is just as killer. I like it for its double functionality because it does both the beheading mucho smoothly and the point of the stake? Talk about hot.

…. Yes, we all get attached to our weapons.

As for guns, they are still pointless.

Keep your weapons hidden. Somewhere they won’t be found. I went through storing them in places I knew my mom wouldn’t bother looking (crosses and holy water vials between the bookshelves, stakes in the closet…) Maybe build a trunk for it, for all your storage needs. This is where I plug Xander Harris. He built me a beautiful trunk on my 21st birthday. Give him a call.

11. Do NOT sleep with vampires.

So, here’s the thing. I don’t want to be a hypocrite but, sometimes, I just have to say it. Do not sleep with the enemy. Here’s the thing. I get it. I know. There’s this whole mysterious aspect to it, and sometimes at the end of it all, you just want to knock your boots with someone, BUT DO NOT SLEEP WITH THE UNDEAD. It never works out good for anyone. There are too many complications, like the loss of souls and dignity. The only shaft they should be getting worked is the stake.

There are plenty of living, breathing, normal human fish in the sea.

Seriously, screw vampires. By that, I mean don’t.

This message was brought to you in part by the Learn from Buffy’s Mistakes Association, because clearly she never did.

12. Don’t let it turn you into stone.

I’m going to get real with you. Being the Slayer… it is so easy to cut yourself off. From the world and everyone around you, because you think that it is easier that way. That it’ll hurt less if you keep this unbudging wall between you and the people you care about. Somewhere along the way, the hard heartens from all the losses that turn you into a ghost of who you were. Somewhere along the way, you stop wearing your heart on your sleeve because you’re not that innocent or naive girl anymore.

Being the slayer… it makes me different. It makes me different in a way that I don’t think anyone will ever truly understand, even when they say they do. I’m not saying that because I think highly of myself or I am trying to keep people at bay. It is just the way it is. This is a fight that belongs to the Chosen One, even when she didn’t ask to be Chosen.

It is about trying to find that balance. For a long time, I cut myself off, and sometimes I still find myself having a hard time letting other people in because I tend to swallow in myself when things get hard. I don’t like putting that on other people… they deal with enough just by slayer association. Now, I try.

I try to embrace the way my emotions give me power, the way they make me feel, even when I feel the most vulnerable - even more than I am mid-battle.

13. Don’t fight it, just accept it. - stop being so hard on yourself, you’re one girl.

One girl in all the world...

I used to hate it. I used to despise Destiny and wanted to give it the finger. For a long time, I hated this life. Hell, there are still times when I wish I wasn’t ‘the One.’ Being the one sucks, sometimes. The losses, the sacrifices, the constant worrying about everyone around you?

It hits harder when I think about the ones I couldn’t save. Yeah, I saved a bunch of people, but what about the ones I couldn’t? That is on me and only me. This is the heavy, so-not-star spangled stuff that sleeps with me every night. The guilt. The could-haves, the should-haves…

I have grown from not accepting this role to embracing what I bring as the Slayer. I know I am damn good at it, total humble-brag. Hey, longest lived for a reason, okay. My stats are impressive.

Sure, there are days where my bones are downright tired. There’s an ache I can’t really explain, and hurt that never goes away and sits in my chest. I have to remind myself that if it is not me, then it is some other girl and I want to save that girl and have her live a normal life for just a little bit longer, you know? She might have something important to get to. She might be Dawn’s age. I could never do that to her.

Every day, I am doing the best I can. There’s only me, and sometimes, only me needs to cut herself a break. Just like most everyone needs to cut themselves a break, sometimes. Have a break, have a Kit-Kat.

*** BONUS TIP: Practice safe necks. Just, please, people. We live in Sunnydale, this should be obvious. Don’t give into Sunnydale Syndrome, have a little awareness.*

CONCLUSION: There you have it, folks. A little intel about the oh so (not) glamorous life of a Slayer. Not coming to a theatre nowhere near you because books on my life are enough, thank you very much. If you have any questions, please contact your local library or that idiot named Carver Edlund. Spam him, spam him good, maybe even send him some hate-mail while you are at it.

END NOTE: If Giles finds this, I repeat, I did not write this. This was written by someone else who knows way too much about me. Probably Dawn because she reads my diary all the time.

A Buffy Summers Publication ™

#✞ :: | ✦ ❛ Drabbles of the Chosen One

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catsukibakuhoe · 4 years

Text

Rehabilitation (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader) Chapter 2

Prolouge

Chapter 1

——————————————————————————————————

The day went by quicker than expected, with breakfast being served even to me and a day of rest being given to the members of the Vanguard Action Squad, a group formed of 11 new members of the League. While Shigaraki had taken his leave to his room, Himiko visited mine.

“Don’t you think you should get an outfit prepared for tomorrow?” Her grin showed she had something devious in mind already. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, focusing on the punching bag in front of me.

“I’m not trying to impress anyone, Toga. I’m there to complete the mission and come back unharmed.” She rolled around on my bed, laying on her stomach and kicking her feet in the air. “Even if you’re trying to meet new friends, I am not.”

“God Y/N, you’re so boring!! Try and meet some new people, maybe get a crush~” I turned around to look at her smirking face.

“Toga, you know I’m not boy crazy like you are. Even if I met new people we are villains. Not exchange students.”

“Whatever you say. I’m gonna follow my crush’s orders!” She skipped out the door, shutting it behind her.

• • •

The debriefing papers we received the same day presented a rundown of which students were going to be there and what their quirks were. A few highlighted papers included those of Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota (who had taken care of me as a child), Shosaki Shino, Shiretoko Tomoko, and Todoroki Shouto. We were also handed the paper of our target, Bakugou Katsuki. His was the one that stood out to me. The information collected on him was shockingly negative, despite his power and abilities in fighting. His personality was rude and arrogant and his teamwork skills were exceptionally low for a student of UA.

We were told to look over these carefully, however it was apparent that no one actually did. The room was bustling with conversation. Most arrived late without even picking up a paper. Moonfish (who scares me beyond imagination) was the last to show up, presumably running from the authorities. Shigaraki moved to the front of the room and gave a short speech before he sent us back to our rooms to rest for the day.

It was hard to fall asleep understanding that soon I’d be wanted as a criminal by the heroes that helped raise me. It hurt to know they’d see me and recognize me. An idea popped into my head. Maybe Toga was right, why not make an outfit? I didn’t own much material but I did own some old clothes that had become too small to fit me. Plenty of needles were around, and I could use the thread from that clothing as well.

The outfit I made was much more versatile and movable than most hero outfits I’d seen. The top was looser with sleeves that hug the wrist, allowing for more mobility and less of a chance to get caught on nails, limbs, etc. The skirt was very short and had shorts under the material, allowing for my legs to move and the spirits that possess me do what they wish. Most of the patterns and colors were mismatched, since they were made almost entirely from scraps of old clothing. But my favorite piece by far was the scarf that wrapped around my mouth and neck. It wasn’t anything special, just a navy blue strip of cloth, but it reminded me of Aizawa. Nothing I made was pretty nor even relatively decent looking, but it served its purpose very well.

I had settled into bed as something in the corner of my vision crashed and tumbled down off of a shelf I didn’t know existed. Hesitantly I got out of bed and stumbled over to the blurry object, picking it up. A photo of a tall, disfigured man and a small child on his lap was barely visible in the darkness of the room. I jumped back, before feeling a light hand on my shoulder. I whipped my head around to reveal nothing there but a breeze in my face and a voice from behind me.

‘You didn’t think you could get away from us that easily, did you?’

With a small whimper I passed out on the floor, seeing a figure in the corner move towards my bed.

• • •

The morning of the attack went fast; waking up on the floor was the hardest part. I got dressed in the new outfit I had made, styled my hair, and brushed my teeth before walking out to join the rest of the Action Squad.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you for joining us,” Shigaraki addressed the group. “I will not be joining you of course, but Kurogiri will be making a warp gate to get you to the training camp. It will be a few hours before you leave. Use this time to prepare.”

Everyone nodded, heading off into groups. Himiko ran towards me, her smile ever so prevalent on her face. She looked proud of herself.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna make an outfit~”

“Yeah, well, I did.”

A few hours of conversation and going over information later, Kurogiri formed a gate in the front, forcing everyone to go through in a single-file line. Himiko stood in front of me, skipping through. Panic rose in my chest as I realized I would be hurting real people now.

And so the story begins.

• • •

“Y/NNN when are they gonna show up???” Sighing, I look over to Himiko.

“You know the class is busy eating right now, right?” She stares off into space, nodding.

“So, who are you gonna go after~?” She practically purrs, turning her fangy smirk in my direction. I roll my eyes and let a small smile form on my face.

“I don’t know. I may go for the one red headed kid, Kirishima I think? He seems like he would be interesting to spar.” She snorted at this.

“Spar? Y/N, you’re fighting now. This isn’t some…” She swings her knife around in the air, twirling it in a circle. “...training game. This is serious now.” The information hits harder than I expected, and the soft scent of firebrand follows the breeze brushing past us. Quickly recognizing blue flames in my hindsight I nod towards Himiko before running the other way, into the mass of forestry covering the area.

The first villain I encounter happens to be Mustard, fighting two class 1-B kids. Running past the gas, utilizing the cloth to cover my nose and mouth, I rush towards the small class building I see in the distance. Dabi is standing and talking to Aizawa, but soon deforms into a pile of goo. ‘Twice.’ I think, hiding behind a tree. Small crunches of leaves give away my position, making Aizawa turn towards where I’m located. The air tense and heavy, the scent of gas and smoke filling the air, and the intense red-eyed stare of Eraserhead darting around the position I’m at makes me inhale sharply before his hair rests and he moves quickly towards where I can only presume the kids are.

Thinking I’m safe I move from my spot, brushing myself off briefly before I see Aizawa stop for a forest-green haired boy and a black haired child. ‘Izuku Midoriya. Quirk: Strength. Very powerful and determined.’ I pause. The voices are muffled, but I can make out a few words.

“Mr Aizawa!..... Kacchan…… Kota!....” Not much made sense, but I quickly recognize our target’s name. ‘He knows.’ A voice that isn’t mine sounds in my head. ‘Tick Tock Y/N, you’ll need us eventually…’

Shaking my head I follow Midoriya once he leaves Aizawa, but not before dropping a slip of paper on the ground.

Aizawa, I wanted to let you know I’m okay. I’m so sorry for what I have to do tonight. Nothing I’m doing is aimed towards you or the heroes that tried to save me. I have to do this.

-Y/N.

I watch from afar as Aizawa’s face contorts, choking back tears. His eyes fall on my figure before I turn to run and catch up with the quickly moving Midoriya.

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emotionalsupportmanteau · 5 years

Text

Anon, here is my response to your prompt. Sorry, I got a bit carried away.

Prompt: Snake! Crowley sleeping in cozy corners around bookshop and Zira not noticing until customers start screaming.

After the Apocaneverhappened, the oldest of friends found themselves at the Ritz as was their unabashedly hedonistic wont, sat on the same side (oh the symbolism!), toasted “To the World” with the finest of champagne and then went home. Separately. I know. Sorry to disappoint you. Aziraphale muttered something about “inventory that mustn’t wait” and Crowley mumbled something about having a hot date with a cold bed and then blushing redder than his hair. The angel’s response was to titter and then utter an equally ridiculous “Good Lord.” Good lord, indeed. Wherever She was, She was certainly rolling her many celestial eyes.

Later that night, an angel picked up books and put them back on the same shelf without even looking at the titles or admiring the beautiful binding and gilt lettering. The books were miffed and ruffled their pages at him but Aziraphale was distracted. You see, the whole thing had been rather anticlimactic as it were. And not just the part about the world not ending. He had thought—he was certain—something was going to happen. With Crowley.

But the dear boy seemed to be ignoring all Aziraphale’s quite overt hints! His lingering gaze should have been the tip off. Wiggling closer at the table so their sleeves touched. Sitting in the car outside his bookshop, sighing pointedly, waiting for something, for anything to happen. The Bentley was silent for once. It was up to them now. Our two conquering heroes had Too Much to Say and So They Said Nothing. Except “See you tomorrow, Angel.” Then Crowley peeled off, treating the streets of London like a video game. Tomorrow. There would be a tomorrow. That was something.

Crowley had some thinking to do and a fair amount of self-chastising, but first he really needed a long nap. And he slept better in snake form. He was profoundly tired. It was all over and yet it was just beginning. The Alpha and the Omega and all that. Crowley took a breath and transformed into his reptilian self. It always seemed to feel better morphing from his human body to snake form than the other way around. The fancy black suit vanished, as did the sunglasses, and in an instant a handsome black snake wriggled happily across the smooth cool floor. Ahh, that’sss better.

But it wasn’t better. Crowley curled up in his Eden green linen sheets, closed his golden eyes but sleep eluded the poor demon. His creature comforts surrounded him: whiskey, whiskey filled chocolates, chocolate flavored whiskey, his secret plush angel, heat lamp on high, David Bowie’s greatest hits playing on his mint 1970’s turntable, but something important was missing. After an hour of shifting and slithering irritably in his soft, many pillowed nest he realized what was missing

Assiraphale.

He needed his angel. Can you blame him? He thought he was going to lose him three times and Three is a Very Significant Number: when the bookshop burned and Crowley couldn’t find him, when Satan showed up and almost permanently crashed Earth’s Party, and when they weren’t sure if swapping bodies would save them. He’s still a bit worried that he might still lose Aziraphale. Upstairs and Downstairs might be looking for retribution because an angel and a demon and a small boy spoiled their lovely war. Sandalphon, Gabriel, and Beelzebub were incensed. Aziraphale. He needed to see his angel. Right now. He would know what to do and what to say. His Azira was the only creature he had ever met who ever offered him true understanding and real comfort.

An exhausted Crowley arrived at Aziraphale’s front door. He swayed in indecision. Should he knock or ring the ornate lion shaped bell? He didn’t want to be a bother. He was so tired. And it had taken an effort to change back to his human shape. He just wanted a nap. Crowley pointed his finger at the keyhole and mimed turning a key. The door opened slowly. Crowley and Aziraphale, sometime around 1942 had agreed that in case of an emergency, they could miracle each other’s doors open even if the other wasn’t there. Because really, who has time for keys these days?

Crowley felt dizzy. Where was Aziraphale? Oh well, he’d just sit down on his nice squashy brocade sofa and wait for him. There was a lovely fire crackling in the fireplace. Crowley stretched his weary, old bones and then changed into a snake without a second thought. Ahh, that’ss it. Sssweeet relief.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale had removed his little gold glasses, put them in their case, and laid his curly sugar sand blond head down on a nice thick volume on Audubon. He was just going to rest his eyes for a moment. Surely, he had earned it after all they had done. Saving the world was hard work. He yawned loudly. As an ethereal entity, he simply didn’t get tired but found he didn’t have the energy to remain upright. A few minutes later, Aziraphale was sound asleep. He slept through Crowley’s quiet break in, slept all the way until morning. The Angel had Gone Native!

The next morning dawned just like any other. Million of ungrateful Londoners had no idea how close they had come to extinction. Aziraphale woke rather well rested and quite refreshed, miracle the wrinkles off his suit and readied himself to get some freshly baked croissants from his favorite French patisserie. Chef Henri always set aside the choicest breads and pastries for his best customer. So intent on his breakfast treat, Aziraphale didn’t see the snake curled around the ancient cash register.

Crowley was blissed out. Every spot he found to snooze in was comfy and smelled like his angel: a heady mix of Madagascan Bourbon Vanilla and a few centuries worth of rare book dust. It shouldn’t be the wonderful perfume it was, but it was to the sensitive and let’s face it, besotted snake. He grinned his snake grin (like a human smile, just more fangy and with a slightly indecent hint of forked tongue) and slithered off to nap on top of the Oscar Wilde first editions. Just friendsss, he hissed to himself, not bloody likely, Assiraphale, but supreme exhaustion overcame his righteous indignation and jealousy and he found his eyes closing against his will. He was just going to rest for a little while before he found Aziraphale and gave him…. gave him something.

Aziraphale was pouring himself a perfect cup of Lady Grey tea to go with his generously buttered and raspberry jam laden croissant when he heard something he had never heard in his or any other bookshop: screaming. Excited screaming he had been forced to endure during the Blessed Harry Potter Years, but this was different. These were fearful screams. Human screams. Aziraphale raced to the front of his shop, worried that someone from Upstairs or Downstairs might be torturing one of his customers. For news of Aziraphale and Crowley, he was certain. They’ve come for us. We will never be free to live together! What? That’s not what I meant. I meant free to live in peace but not celestial harmony until the end of our days.

There were three humans in the front of the bookshop, and they were indeed screaming. But there weren’t any annoying supernatural emissaries to be seen. An old man in a tattered raincoat was yelling “Snake! Snake! Snake!” and brandishing his umbrella before him. A uni student with half a shaved head and tattooed forearms didn’t look frightened at all, just bemused and continued to browse the occult section. A teenager with headphones slung around their neck, in a striped red and white jumper that was very Where’s Waldo? stabbed their finger at Aziraphale’s bookcase of treasured gay literature and there He was. Crowley. Lounging atop Oscar’s Collected Works. Cheeky bugger. He would know that snake anywhere. What in heaven’s name was he doing here? And why was he in snake form?

“No need for alarm,” Aziraphale reassured the small group. “That creature is indeed a snake and he is my pet. My store mascot, if you will.”

Crowley opened his eyes and glared at Aziraphale as if to say Really? Really, Aziraphale?

“He won’t hurt you. He’s tame.” Crowley hissed and stuck out his forked tongue.

The old man and teenage Waldo jumped. The uni student said “Wicked.” Crowley bobbed his head as if to say Got it in one.

What do you want me to do? Aziraphale asked his serpent friend desperately with his wide Delft blue eyes.

You figure it out, Angel, Crowley’s amber eyes said and slithered over to Aziraphale, crawled up the shocked angel’s pleasingly plump side and wrapped around his arm. He was always much bolder in snake form. Ssso warm. Somehow I always knew you would be. Warm like ssstarss are warm. Crowley was afraid the angel could hear his thoughts. They were the ones screaming now. In ecstasy. Oh go-Sa- somebody. Help me here.

“I’m going to call Animal Control. You shouldn’t have a snake in here. Its revolting is what it is. That thing belongs in the zoo,” the old man bellowed at Aziraphale.

Crowley tightened his hold on the angel’s arm in fear and Aziraphale stroked his head scales gently. He had never touched Crowley in his snake form before. He felt cool and smooth beneath his trembling fingers.

“I assure you this is all perfectly legal, sir,” Aziraphale said through gritted teeth. “I will completely understand if you no longer want to frequent my bookshop. In fact, it is best for all concerned if you leave immediately. Since my snake is so distasteful to you. Try the Waterstones down the street.” The old man’s jaw dropped, and he sagged, as if all the fight has left him. Aziraphale took hold of his arm politely but firmly and steered him out the front door, closing and locking it for good measure.

Waldo inched closer to Aziraphale. “If he’s your pet, what’s his name?”

“His name…hmm” Aziraphale leaned close to Crowley’s head and whispered “Puer Carissime,”in Latin, their old language though Love is the oldest language of all. As our two man shaped creatures were finally learning. It had only taken 6,000 years.

Crowley shivered in delight, then slithered up and around his neck, nuzzling Aziraphale’s left shoulder. Aziraphale felt a small bonfire happening in his body and cleared his throat several times before returning his attention to the inquisitive customer. “You may call him Genesis.” You see, Aziraphale had always been just enough a bastard and Crowley loved him for it.

“Genesis? Like the Phil Collins band? Me mum loves his music. I prefer The Arctic Monkeys myself,” said Waldo.

“Yes, my dear. The Phil Collin’s band.” Crowley snorted which sounded like an adorable little sneeze. Aziraphale hadn’t the faintest idea who Phil Collins or The Arctic Monkeys were. Bebop, most likely. Crowley would know.

“Wicked,” helpfully added the uni student and started humming the hit song “D is for Dangerous” under their breath. Aziraphale privately had the rather uncharitable thought that the young person must be smoking the devil’s lettuce. Crowley thought the same thing only he followed it up with the entertaining idea of what Aziraphale would be like if he smoked grass. He would just have to tempt him into it! Yes, groovy idea! Capitol, as his angel would say.

Crowley nipped the angel’s ear gently and Aziraphale turned red as rhubarb pie. “My dearest boy!” he exclaimed. Crowley flicked out his tongue, licked his round cheek and proceeded to move downward and coil himself around Aziraphale like a belt. This is getting a bit inappropriate, he thought. The humans must exeunt. Before we lose all sense of propriety. He quaked in pleasure at that delicious idea.

“Alright then, Cro-Genesis is tired, and I have calls to make to book buyers so I will have to ask you both to leave.”

“Wicked,” said the uni student a bit gloomily and dropped the biography of Aleister Crowley they were holding.

“I wanted to pet him,” sulked Waldo, but they put their head phones back on and headed for the door.

“Maybe next time, dear. If Genesis gives his consent, that is.” Crowley shakes in silent laughter.

“How long is he staying?” Waldo asked, strangely voicing the exact question that the angel had been wondering about since he saw his favorite wily serpent in his bookcase that morning, looking as if he belonged nowhere else.

“That rather depends on him.” Crowley remained still. “I should like him to stay forever,” the angel said it all in one brave whoosh. Crowley loosened his hold on Aziraphale’s waist, slinked up to his chest, nudged aside his immaculate white shirt and pressed his snoot to his rapidly beating heart.

“It looks like he really likes you,” remarked Waldo with a smile. “Aw, I want a pet now.”

“Wicked,” the occult enthusiast agrees.

“Farewell, young folk. Come back another time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fell. I’m Theodore H. Richards. I’ll be back. I am writing my doctoral thesis on the occult history of England throughout the ages and I have some questions to ask you, if you don’t mind,” the uni student said shyly.

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “Of course. What an interesting topic, Theodore. I am here to help,” he said brightly. Crowley thought, hmm, now here’ss an interessting human…Aziraphale won’t mind if we help them get top marks.

“Bye, Mr. Fell. My name’s Taryn. Rhymes with Karen. I can’t wait to tell me mum about Genesis. She’s in love with Phil Collins. It’s gross. He’s so old.”

Azirophale laughed at this and saw both his customers out the door.

It was quiet. So quiet. It was just the two of them. After all this time. And when was someone going to say something? Do something? Aziraphale started to sweat and felt his heart about to punch through his delicate chest and run off if Crowley didn’t make a move. Then, “Close your eyess, Angel,” Crowley hissed.

Azirophale obeyed at once. He didn’t think it would be hard to take orders from Crowley.

Crowley quickly transformed back into his human shape.

“Open your eyes, Angel,” he said quietly.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and gazed at Crowley with more love than any angel had ever been able to feel. His beautiful Crowley. In a simple black suit that shimmered, reminding him of his snake form. No sunglasses. His gorgeous, expressive eyes of the oldest, richest yellow clay glistened with tears.

“Darling,” Aziraphale threw his arms around his beloved demon, embracing him with everything that he had.

“Did you mean it, Zira? Can I stay forever?” Crowley’s voice shook as he pulled him closer.

“Forever, my love.” Aziraphale cradled Crowley’s face in both hands, learning his friend in a completely new and wonderful way.

“L-love? You love me?” Crowley stuttered.

“I love you. I love you so much, my dearest boy. Puer carissime.” Azirophale stroked Crowley’s soft pomegranate hair.

“Angel, “Crowley kissed the crown of his dear head. “I love you, Angel. Have done since Eden.”

Aziraphale melted. “Since Eden.”

“We’ll make our own garden, Zira.” Crowley ran his arms up and down Aziraphale’s arms, setting off little sparks.

“And you will yell at the plants.”

“And I will yell at the plants,” Crowley laughed. “Zira?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been waiting to try something for 6,000 years,” he growled.

“That long, my dear? I wonder what it is?”

“Bastard,” Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s rosebud mouth and bit his lip.

“Try it, Crowley. I promise I will like whatever it is,” he said coyly.

“As much as profiteroles?” Crowley said salaciously and licked his lips.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I rather like profiteroles. Let’s try it and find out.” Crowley surged against Aziraphale, his cock hot and hard against the angel’s soft stomach. Aziraphale gasped.

“You are quite naughty, you know, my love.”

“Demon,” he pointed to himself.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way. Though I don’t mind you in snake form. It felt quite nice having you- “

“Angel. Less. Talking.” They closed their eyes in unison. Crowley took a deep breath and pressed his lips once against Aziraphale’s. His lips so soft and tasting of sugar and salt. They rested their warm, damp foreheads against each other, their rabbit fast breathing the only sound in the shop.

“More, please,” Aziraphale drew close and said against Crowley’s lips so it tickled a little.

“Greedy,” Crowley giggled.

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

“That’s true. Since you asked so nicely.” Crowley slung his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and kissed him properly this time. Aziraphale’s mouth opened like a flower to admit Crowley’s tongue, stroking his until every cell in his body filled with sunlight.

“Crowley, my dearest boy,” Aziraphale murmured between deep kisses that nourished the parched earth inside him. “I am yours. Everything I was. Everything I am. Everything I will be.”

“Zira,” Crowley groaned into his nectar sweet mouth. “As I am yours. Everything I was. Everything I am. Everything I will be,” he repeated like a mantra. His breathing hummingbird quick. “Zira, angel. I want- I want to touch you. Every part of you. I want to be entwined with you. So I don’t know where you end, and I begin. As if we were the only two in the world.”

“We are, Crowley. This is Our World now. We create it. And we begin and end together.”

“Yes, my love,” Aziraphale kissed him like he was saying an oath, and perhaps he was. He took Crowley’s lovely, slender hands and pulled him in the direction of the bedroom where he resisted the urge to miracle something better than his 19th century iron sleigh bed with threadbare lace edged sheets. Crowley didn’t want perfection. He just wanted him.

“Let’s go to our garden, darling. Together, I do think we could help it grow.” Crowley bowed his head like it was a willow tree heavy with sudden, life giving rain, kissed Aziraphale’s hand and followed him through the unassuming wooden door with the old-fashioned glass knob and into eternity.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fic prompts #spent 7 hours writing nonstop now what do I do with myself?

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rayne-storm · 4 years

Text

50 Word Prompts - Malcolm Astr, Martin Esmer

Hands

"Surgeon's Hands" have never been so literal, or so beloved. At least, that's what the younger man thinks as he feels them caressing his body with expert care.

Sleeve

The first time Malcolm sees the fairie without his arms covered - since the Incident - he has to remind himself that maybe the man is sensitive. He stares, but in simple admiration.

"Do they hurt?" He asks, cautious as ever with his fragile lover.

"Not any more."

And like that he's touching and kissing, pressing adoration into the marked and starred limbs.

Rescue

"I'll get you out for good some day."

Well, it was some day. The sirens blaring and the riots diverting most of the attention, it's a simple thing, really, for the changeling boy to slip in, pick a few locks, and slip right back out with his beloved in tow.

Opera

Martin never heard his boy sing before, he realizes, as a lovely tune floats from down the stairs where Esmer is making breakfast. He doesn't recognize the words, but it's all in French anyways.

Mostly he's amazed at how well it carries. A miracle they haven't gotten noise complaints. He'll have to try harder, then. And maybe introduce his boy to Mozart.

Water

It very quickly becomes apparent to Malcolm that the childhood "game" Astr is describing is straight up torture.

"And your father told your 'friends' to play this with you…? Even after you asked them to stop?"

Shopping

Martin immediately notices the unconscious longing Esmer holds in his gaze as they pass the baby clothes. Suddenly envisioning his lover plump and round and full of his legacy, he can't help but long as well. Soon, he resolves, they'll be adding that aisle to their weekly outing.

Street

"Astr, I told you, it's a grid system."

"And I told you I don't know what a grid is."

Window

He found glass markers in a discount bin and has been painting the windows for an hour now. It's the only part of Notre Dame that he misses, and Martin has been such a help, printing photographs and using those surgical hands to do the intricate linework.

Cooking

"And you're sure this one won't poison me?"

"My love, I can't even tell with you any more. But no, I've let other human people try this and no one's died yet."

Quiz

"And this is..?"

"The… the hippo… hippocampus?"

"Very good, my boy! You're doing great."

He is so grateful he decided to try and understand Martin's passions. It's only fair.

Storm

Malcolm had thought the faerie would be afraid of thunder, but it's adorable to see him running and dancing in the rain. He hasn't really been… joyful, since Malcolm saved him that night. It's a sign of healing. And, he idly thinks, he has a part in it.

Time

"It doesn't really mean anything to me any more."

Go figure. Allegedly a thousand years of living will do that to you.

But he does see the need to spend as much of it with Malcolm as possible.

Picture

Martin sketches and paints the young man constantly. He cannot help but be offended when he learns Esmer has never seen himself in a photograph, and several tasteful shots (and a brief break with a decidedly un-tasteful couple of shots), and a small pack of photo paper later, Esmer really can appreciate how accurate the art is.

Blanket

When it starts to tatter, Astr gifts Malcolm with a new, larger weighted blanket for their cuddle sessions.

Light

Martin had never really appreciated the rainbow of colours different times of the day could have on skin until he had a darker lover. Blues and purples dance in the moonlight, followed by hours at an easel trying to mix the paints just right.

Shade

"I burn easy. Even easier now," the faerie mutters from beneath the parasol. He however will force Malcolm out to get some sun. It's good for him.

Pool

Large bodies of water frighten him, but if Martin gets in, he can too. He feels safe, knows he won't drown, knows Martin won't shove him down until he passes out. So he can get in, can also enjoy the sight of his lover's body, which seems like his reward.

Leaves

"No way. No. No. You're kidding."

Cronch cronch.

"Delicious."

He really just ate a leaf. Was he taking a joke too far? He won't tell.

Sweet

Strawberries taste much better stolen from his lover's lips.

Color

"So, are all faeries as colourful as you?"

"My brothers are, yes, but we come in all shades and palettes, really."

Malcolm finds he likes a little more blue in his life.

Phone

"Do I really need this?"

"Yes. I need to be able to reach you if I need to."

He didn't expect the addiction to bejeweled, and maybe he regrets getting his love a smartphone.

Race

"Okay so you're a faerie. But you have a brother who's an elf?"

"Half-elf. He has a tail and pointier ears and no wings, and he's a lot more muscled than me or our youngest brother, but he's also a lot more colourful than most elves and his skin takes tattoo ink very well."

"So is this a distinction in species or…?"

"No, it's more like how you humans are all different colours."

"But it's more dramatic than that?"

"A little. But thinking about it now I think it's a lot of political nonsense."

Stroll

Walking in the forest beneath a full moon, he can see the ethereal beauties of his lover.

Film

"Okay so you call picture-shows what now?"

"It depends on the length."

Human technology is so confusing sometimes, but definitely worth it to watch "Great British Bake-Off."

Bottle

"Is that the green fairy I spy? My dear boy I didn't know you had a thing for absinthe..."

"Not really. I just like the colour of the glass."

There are more valuable liquids to fill it with anyway.

Art

It unites them, in its way. Though they may not share a common medium, they're happy to create in a shared space.

Cork

"Much nicer than rocks," he murmurs offhandedly. Malcolm has no idea if he's serious. It's one of the things he loves the most.

Grasp

"I have you. I promise. I have you." He clings to his lover and bawls, finally safe enough to feel the anguish before he loses his mind.

Space

"Do you believe in aliens, or is that just a human thing?"

"It would be silly if anyone looked up there and didn't wonder if we're really all alone. Though interpretations differ."

"So just like humans yet again."

"You say that like it's surprising, my love."

My love.

To think the first time he said that would be looking up from the roof of the precinct during a five minute break.

Dream

His sleep looks more peaceful now. Good. Martin idly wonders if he comforts Esmer in there too.

Scare

When he sees him standing over… something, covered in blood, face snarling and… fangy, Malcolm can't help the adrenaline that shoots through his veins.

Mask

"I'm Fine."

Martin knows what it really means.

Thrice

Three is the number of times he makes Astr come, minimum, before he'll let himself.

Adventure

"Don't drink the wine, or you'll be stuck forever."

"Promise?"

Risk

He knows Martin is dangerous. An apex predator, and he might as well be a fluffy little lamb.

Security

Malcolm's arms are the safest place he's ever known. Strong enough to help him lift the world from his shoulders, but soft enough to absorb his tears.

Hold

With the gentlest touch, Martin realizes, he's more powerful than anyone in Esmer's life.

Lie

"I'm fine."

Malcolm doesn't let the hurt show. He knows he has to let him grieve. At least for a while.

Chill

"It's so cold…"

The Romani boy is burning up, and Martin knows that this isn't just a cold.

Plant

"I think it'll help. Give you something to love while you recover."

Astr's never loved a succulent so much.

Door

When Esmer brings home the sonogram, they don't even make it all the way into the bedroom. Martin's so much stronger than he looks, and a doorway is sturdy.

Boat

Esmer talks in his sleep. When it isn't about a red room, he whimpers about the rocking.

Pet

"Hello my love, how are we today?"

Malcolm never says "Disney Princess" out loud, but he always thinks it when he sees him interact with Sunshine.

Embrace

To look at Malcolm, you wouldn't think he would give such incredible hugs. It's Astr's best kept secret.

Run

It's thrilling to play predator and prey, to see how fast his lover can go, and the sweet sensation of catching him, making love on the ground, knowing how fully he possesses him.

Rest

"Sleep. I'm here. I'll stay here. You can't hurt me."

Malcolm eventually learns to trust that promise. Sometimes he gets 5 hours a night.

Break

It hurts it hurts it hurts!!

Nothing has ever hurt more than his heart at this moment. To see his lover, the man he trusted his whole self to, whispering sweet nothings into some woman's ear. Taking her back to their home.

He knew he would never be enough. But he didn't realize how painful that could be.

Check

They argue over who pays for dinner more than most couples. But when you're both that rich, and that dependent on being a caregiver, that's only natural.

Song

He may not understand the words, but Martin knows the grief. He wonders what died, and has no idea it's Esmer's heart.

Night

It takes all night, but he has his Esmer back. His beautiful boy won't ever have to feel insecure again.

#Mine #my work #fan work #original characters #esmer #astr #ficlet #drabble #mine #rayne writes

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