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#you can still use that idea if you like it! write your own stories y'all....

f4nrir · 11 months

Text

a lovers quarrel

一 pairing; miguel o'harra x male reader

note: I haven't seen any male!reader for him and I am obsessed with this man. anyway, please let me know if y'all like this so I can write more for him. feedback would be appreciated!

cw: nsfw, 18+. angst, angry hate sex, slight dub-con, anal, overstimulation, face slapping, power bottom!reader.

summary: you get into an argument with miguel regarding the situation with miles. you put him in his place. word count: 2.8k

݁݁⠀⠀ ،̲،̲ ⠀ . @he11mouth

“Miguel!” was the last thing you remember saying before Miguel had broken into a fit of rage, chasing after Miles like a rabid dog. You sighed and turned around to be met with Gwen, who began to shake her head at what you were about to do. Sometimes it scared you that she could read your mind, it was a comforting feeling yet you knew that this wouldn’t be a good idea. You put on your mask and angled your wrist, shooting out a web as you swung from pole to pole in order to catch up with them both. After you saw them in your line of sight, you jumped down and began to run on both feet, easily catching up with Miguel. He noticed you from his peripheral vision and growled in anger, knowing that meant he was extremely upset. His pace fastened as he knew what you were about to do. However, you were smarter than that and jumped, slamming him down onto the ground to have him let go of the grip he had on Miles.

“Go Miles, now!” your voice boomed loudly and the teenager looked at you with sorrow yet gratefulness in his eyes. He didn’t take another second to run away, being able to escape Miguel’s wrath. Miguel looked at you with anger and distrust as he watched you let Miles go, thinking you knew better than to side with a boy you barely knew. He felt as if the relationship you two had built meant nothing to you as you were able to betray him without hesitance, no regard as to how he’d feel. That you didn’t think before acting and now he lost control, he lost power in a situation.

He took off his mask, being met with his disheveled hair and blood-red eyes. “Why would you do that!” he yelled, gripping tightly onto his mask. You have never seen him so angry before and you took off your own, looking him in the eye as he spoke. “You betrayed me. We were supposed to work together, we are a team! How could you be so stupid!” his words felt like venom, making your blood boil with each word that came out of his mouth. Then you did the unthinkable, “How could YOU be so stupid?” you heard loud gasps from the crowd that surrounded you both and Gwen caught up with you, landing on both feet beside you.

You grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling his face closer to yours. “What is wrong with you? Miles is a teenager, Miguel, this isn’t some kid you can just slam into the ground! Did you ever think about his side of the story? Did you give him time to speak!?” you yelled right in his face, anger building up within him.

“He is a threat to us. Don’t you remember what happened with Dr. Strange and that little nerd on Earth-199999?? Do you want that happening to us?” he growled in a low voice, his face just inches away from you and his hot breath ran a chill down your spine.

“Give him a chance, Miguel. You don’t know him—“ he cut you off, “and YOU DO? Of course, you’re using emotions rather than knowledge. typical you huh? stupid and empathetic.” Those words felt like a stab to the heart and Miguel was the wielder, twisting it with all his might.

Gwen glared up at him and sneered, gently rubbing your back as you stepped away from him. “How fucking dare you, Miguel.” you didn’t give him time to respond as you walked away with Gwen before swinging together in synchrony, hoping that there was still time to catch up with Miles.

Peter walked up behind him and Miguel looked down in shame, realizing the words that he said were extremely disrespectful. “What the fuck was that dude?” Peter asked and Miguel shook his head, putting his hand out to make him stop.

“Everyone, just... don’t chase after them, I’ll take care of it myself,” he then walked away in the opposite direction, making his way toward the headquarters as everyone went back to what they were doing.

Miles wasn’t too up ahead as you realized that he heard your fight, feeling guilty that he had heard the exchange of words between you both. The three of you sat down by a nearby ledge, watching your legs as they swung against the cold airy breeze.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d cause this big of a mess,” Miles’ head hung low and you pat his shoulder, gently squeezing it.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I know you’ve only been here for a few days but I know you mean well. Miguel’s just.. uh.. protective. The alteration in Dr. Strange’s world caused massive destruction and would refuse to let that happen here too.” you let out a deep sigh and toyed with your web shooter, unable to stay still. The words echoed in your mind and you felt as if you were weak to give this boy a chance. Gwen leaned her head against your shoulder and you smiled at her, grateful for the relationship you both have developed. You were like an older brother figure to her as you helped guide her for the last several months, never leaving her side as she did the same for you.

“You didn’t deserve that though. Miguel can be pretty irritable, although I understand he has a lot of stress on his shoulders but he should never speak to someone like that,” Gwen spoke with disappointment in her voice and Miles hummed in agreement, knowing that was wrong for him to do.

“It’s... okay, I understand why. I’ll just talk to him and I’ll let you guys know alright? Don’t worry about it.” you flashed them both a smile and they nodded in response as you jumped off the ledge you sat at, making both of them gasp in surprise. Gwen was about to go after you until Miles stopped her, knowing that you'd catch yourself. You swung from building to building as your loud “woo’s!” could be heard all throughout the lobby. The pair exhaled in relief, watching you disappear from their sight.

You arrived home and you sighed to yourself before you opened the door to your shared home. “Miguel?” you called out as you noticed faint noises coming from one of the rooms, either Miguel was home or he left the television on again even though you’ve reminded him numerous times not to leave it on. You made your way to your bedroom and saw your boyfriend sitting there with his arms crossed, eyes focused on the television. You glanced over at it, realizing he was just watching one of his telenovela series.

“You really aren't gonna talk to me?” you asked, clear bitterness in your voice. Miguel snickered, as he turned off the tv and faced you.

“Why should I apologize? You betrayed me.” You ruffled up your hair in frustration, raising your balled-up fist in the air before settling it down.

“You just never learn. Talk to me when you want to be mature.“ you turned around to exit the room, however, he caught you off guard as he shot his web in one swift motion, trapping you in here with him. The web landed on the door knob and you groaned, realizing you’d have to clean it up later as Miguel’s webs were incredibly sticky and durable. It was reliable in certain circumstances and you hated it in others. Turning around once again, you faced Miguel with a defeated look.

“What do you want?” you asked as you attempted to make your way to your closet but was stopped by a strong force. Miguel grabbed your wrist and threw you onto the mattress, hovering above you.

Miguel didn’t speak as he let his actions do it all for him. He pinned you down underneath him as he placed kisses on your neck, digging his sharp fangs into your skin. You yelped and gripped onto his shoulders, attempting to get him off of you but realize you were at a disadvantage.

“Get off m..me-“ he cut you off by pressing his lips against yours, pulling you into a rough yet lustful kiss. You moaned against him as your hands found their way into his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks. You tugged ever so roughly, emitting a moan from the other. He began to grind against you, your bulge growing as the minutes passed. You hissed at the contact as you grew more sensitive to your cocks frotting against each other.

Miguel pulled away, desperately taking off his clothes, and urged you to do the same thing. You sat up slightly and tampered with your suit, managing to get it off within a timely manner. He pulled you into another kiss, but you had an advantage this time. You flipped both of you over, pinning him below you as you straddled his lap.

“I hated how you talked to me today,” you whispered in his ear, as there was venom in your tongue with how you enunciated your words. You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up at you. Miguel looked at you with lustful and slutty eyes, practically begging to be fucked.

“I’m sor—“ You slapped his cheek, leaving a bright red handprint on his face. “Are you really sorry, Miguel?”

“Y..yes, sir I’m s-“ another hit, and you noticed him flinch in surprise. “Sorry, didn’t hear you loud enough. What did you say?”

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, having a slight tone in his voice. You always knew how to put Miguel in his place; this was one of the easiest ways to weaken him. Although you felt a bit bad, you knew he enjoyed it as he reassured you numerous times it is okay to do that to him.

“That’s a good boy.. that’s all you had to do,” you placed a kiss on his temple, and to his surprise, you grabbed his hair and made him look at you.

“Here’s what we’re going to do... I’m going to please myself and use you. Got it?” Miguel whined and you let out a laugh, shaking your head at his response.

“How pathetic. Only if everyone knew how much of a whore you are,” you looked over at your nightstand and grabbed the lube, lathering up his cock as you hover over it. Miguel winced at the temperature of the liquid but settled down right as you began touching him, quickly taking away that privilege and he bucked his hips up in the air.

You wrapped your hand around his neck, squeezing lightly at first on the sides. Miguel moaned, being caught off guard by your sudden movement. He let out a cough as you squeezed once again, but harder this time. “No touching.” you sternly ordered and he scoffed in response. Miguel then grabbed your waist and lined himself up against you, attempting to thrust inside of you in one go. You felt the tip of his head enter you and you gasped, before turning your attention back to him. You grabbed both of his arms and cuffed his wrists to the bed posts, thanking your lucky stars that you didn’t put it away the previous night.

“You disgusting pervert,” you leaned back and slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, moaning out loud as it stretched you out from all over. Miguel’s hips began shaking as you began to move, keeping a steady slow pace of riding.

“ ¡a..ah mi vida, lo siento. por favor más rapido, mas rapido- agh!” he whined into the atmosphere of your bedroom, feeling the air become humid as the room filled up with the scent of sex.

“No, vete a la mierda. Tú te hiciste esto Miguel..” you growled in his ear and tears began to well up in his eyes, only laughing in his face as you quickened your pace.

"F—fuck, Miguel..” you threw your head back as you moaned out his name proudly, earning a louder sound from him. Miguel was a mess underneath you as his legs began shaking even further, knowing that meant his orgasm was coming soon. You continued to quicken your pace, feeling your own legs tremble and the warm feeling into your stomach pool within.

You placed your palms against his chest as you rode out your climax, painting it all over his stomach. Miguel cried as he reached his own and came inside of you, continuing your pace from before.

“Please! s—stop, I’m sorry, please. mi amor, por— agh!” he begged for you like a pathetic dog as you felt him melt underneath you, giving into submission. You smirked down at him as his eyelids fluttered open, his expression looking dazed.

You got off of him and he mumbled thank you under his breath, desperately bucking his hips into the air.

“I’m not done with you yet, Miguel” his eyes widened as you used the cum from your orgasm to pump your cock, using it as your own lube. You got in between his legs and he tried to kick away from you but you pinned both of his legs down. “Careful. You might end up torturing yourself even further,” you then lined yourself up against him and wasted no time thrusting inside of him in one go. Miguel yelled out your name, begging for you to stop but you knew it was just one of his antics. He knew your safe word, although he’s never had to use it. He knew he was safe with you but disliked the process of getting punished.

You looked down on him from above and Miguel continues to scream out your name, feeling completely ruined and used as you showed no mercy in fucking him.

“You wanna apologize to me one more time, hm?” you grabbed his face and he nodded his head frantically, slurring “I’m sorry” under his breath as he felt overstimulated. “I’m sorry, please I’m so sorry. I should’ve never yelled at y..you— I should’ve been kinder, please—“ he pleaded and you tilted your head, “please what?”

“S.. stop, please..” he whined and threw his head back as you continued to slam into him, hitting his prostate over and over again. Miguel clutched into your back, dragging his nails across your skin and muscles. You winced at the pain, knowing his sharp claws would leave scars on your skin once it’s healed.

“You don’t want to stop, don’t you? You like feeling like this,” you then took him in your hand, pressing your thumb against the head of his cock.

“Fuck! I.. I can’t, oh god it’s too much—“ he cried and you fastened your pace, now rubbing his slit. Miguel began to sob out in overstimulation as you jerked him off, refusing to pull your hand away.

“I need to.. cum.. please sir let me— Please I’ll be good, I won’t speak to you like that again. Please sir, plea— Agh!” your thrusts became lazy but each slam was rough and hard as you got yourself ready for your orgasm.

“Do it with me, Miguel” you murmured under your breath as you both moaned out loud together, coming undone at the same time. You stayed inside him for a few more seconds, almost up to a minute as you wanted every drop to stay inside him.

“You did so good, my sweet boy,” you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead and he panted, arching his back in response.

You pulled out of him, watching your cum leak out of his stretched-out hole. You groaned, noticing your dick was still hard but did not want to continue as you noticed he was dazed from it all. You took him off the handcuffs and kissed his wrists, rubbing them gently with your hands as they looked red and sore. Miguel smiled at you, peppering your hands with soft kisses.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that,” he gently grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. You placed a kiss on his thumb and you took his hand, pressing his palm against your cheek.

“You’re okay, cariño. I’m sorry too— I should’ve not been rude or quick to de-“ Miguel hushed you, placing a finger against your lips. You blushed, as you looked at his veiny calloused hands.

“Not your fault. I’m sorry, I should’ve been easier on Miles,” He smiled at you, but took no time to grab your jaw to make you look at him. You squirmed in his touch, trying to break out of it. Miguel then towered over you, pinning you down onto your back and he took your cock in his hand.

“Since you’ve had fun, it’s my turn,” he smirked and dug his fangs into your neck, drawing blood with his bite. You bucked your hips up against him, earning a low chuckle from the other.

It was going to be a long night.

#— zeppelin’s files 📁#miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #male reader #marvel one shot #reader insert #smut #mlm smut #mlm writing #x you #m!reader #x male!reader #male!reader #male reader insert #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara

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thatstonedwriter · 6 months

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⋆｡˚ 「More than Enough」⋆｡˚

◉ Sinopsis; comforting their s/o, who struggles with their self-worth

◉ feat; M&M, Fizzarolli, Striker

◉ A/n- kinda been in my feelings for a few days, but it's alright. Also haven't written for Striker in a hot minute so I'm deciding to give it a try

___˙•˚∘✮🌙ᯓ🪐˙•˚∘___

Moxxie and Millie also struggle with self-esteem and self-worth, so when you're feeling down, they have a good idea of what might be able to cheer you up.

Moxxie, ever the thespian, writes you a ton- and I mean a ton- of little notes, poems, and even songs- all declaring his unconditional, undying love for you and Millie. It's not generic love songs either- what Moxxie writes are the most heartfelt, sincere declarations of love you'll ever hear

Dude will also follow you around all day like a sidekick- actually. This guy takes the Hype Man position very seriously. Whenever you're talking, he stands to your side, hip jutted out and arms crossed. He's so sassy for no reason

Millie actually takes a more lowkey approach- don't get me wrong, she and Moxxie absolutely smother you with love- but Millie's lowkey nature helps balance out Moxxie's grand gestures.

Millie is pretty observant, so she's able to pick up on your subtle mood changes and habits fast. Wrapping your arms around your stomach? Millie beats you to it and has her arm around your waist. nervous fidgeting? Millie holds your hand, and gives you a reassuring smile.

Of course, they each have their own off days- sometimes y'all take a collective self-care day which is just code for you sitting on the couch, ordering food delivery and watching dumb shows; no matter the circumstance, Moxxie and Millie will always love and support you unconditionally.

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

Fizzarolli knows exactly how it feels to think you're not living up to everyone's (or even your own) expectations. While Fizz knows there's no such thing as completely "getting rid of" these feelings, he will always do everything he can to reassure you.

Distractions are Fizz's specialty, so if you're feeling down, expect lots of jokes and random stories- its just his way of helping you get out of a negative mindset, even temporarily

Fizz is also the kind of partner to perform impromptu stand-up comedy acts when you're feeling down. Sit your ass on the couch with some snacks, because for the next thirty minutes, you're gonna watch Fizz attempt comedy while using a wooden spoon as a microphone.

It's funny to think Fizz knows a little bit of a bunch of different languages; wanna know what that results in? Him attempting to flirt with you in Italian or French but really just saying a bunch of random bullshit. It's the thought that counts, right?

Don't let the robotic limbs fool you- Fizz is very touchy-feely (unless you're uncomfortable with it). If you happen to be insecure about your physical apperance, Fizz is there to assure you, there's nothing to be insecure about. You're literally the most amazing being in his eyes

Fizzarolli knows how hard it can be to wrestle with your inner-critic, and that it takes a long time to unlearn the instinct of being self-critical. That's why he takes every moment he can to tell you everything you have to be proud of.

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

Striker isn't one for self-doubt or insecurity. There's not much room for it in his life, so it's harder for him to empathize with what you're going through.

when Striker does take the time to understand what you're going through, he's still confused. He's more pragmatic, so when you list your insecurities, all he can think is how wrong you are

It's a bit harsh, but hey, so is he. Though, he does understand there's a lot about relationships he has yet to learn- like how to be a bit more sensitive when dealing with feelings of self-worth

at first, Striker's solution is to tell you "prove yourself wrong," but when he sees it's not the most.. effective solution, he opts to just listening, and doing his best to be a pillar of support.

Rather than rushing to fix things or immediately tell you you're wrong, Striker sits and will listen to you for hours. He won't offer unwarranted advice or try to invalidate your feelings- he just listens.

And at the end of the day, Striker knows what there is to love about you. He may not express it as openly, but Striker cares about you, and hates seeing you beat yourself up. He hopes one day, you can see yourself the way he does- perfect as you are.

___‎˙•˚∘✮ 🔭๋࣭ᯓ🌙˙•˚∘___

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss headcanon #moxxie helluva boss #millie helluva boss #fizzarolli helluva boss #striker helluva boss #moxxie x millie #polyam moxxie x millie x reader #moxxie x millie x reader #fizzarolli x reader #striker x reader #romantic headcanons #helluva boss hurt/comfort #writings.onthe.wall

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shapard · 1 month

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Thorned 🥀

Human!Lucifer x fem!reader

Zombie Apocalypse Au

Writing the first words of a story really is a pain in the ass sometimes.

mention of SA and gore (English is not my first Language so errors ahead!)

And here I am to feed y'all another Lucifer x reader!!

In the Closet

Chapter 1 > Chapter 2

It should’ve been a normal school day in your boring life. You are a silent nerd student in college just trying to survive with all the college bills.

Your parents aren't very supportive nor did they care about you. So, you moved out of your parents house trying to make something out of yourself.

And let's just say your mother wasn't pleased with the news and declined all your calls.

Not even your father bothers to get in contact with you. When you do get lucky he just shrugs you off and says he is busy.

Clearly a complete lie.

Your head laid on the desk not caring what the Professor is saying right now.

Your life is pretty boring. No romance, no drama and no friends. Not that you mind. You're here for a good education rather than a tragic love story.

Your mind was drifting somewhere else and thinking about the rent you must pay. It was a struggle you wished you don’t have to face.

Beside college you worked in two other part time jobs which drained you completely out. No private time or going out.

High school was the only time where you went out partying and met your ex-boyfriend. He was toxic and very self-centered.

A loud scream caught your attention. Your eyes travelled down towards the tumult that started outside.

The Pick me girl from the upper class was screaming and pressing her hand tight on her mouth. Your eyebrows raised in question, even though she is the pick me girl she never reacted this terrified?

There was screaming, gasping and sound of metal meating flesh.

Interested you watched the scenery as the girl got jumped by a guy. Shocked you saw how that guy, or rather that thing, ate her face bit by bit. Your heart felt like sliding down to your stomach, you wanted to puke.

Her new boyfriend swung a baseball bat onto the monster. The bloody tone that played when blood started to burst out was disgusting.

It made you sick to the stomach.

This is different than any movie or series you watched. This is real. No actor playing a role and no CGI.

Soon enough alarm sirens rang through the town and in the college. You tried to keep a cool outside but the panic inside you was immense. The whole classroom was screaming and some even had panic attacks.

This type of reaction wasn’t helping at all.

In your whole life of existence, you’ve never imagined that this could be really happening.

A Zombie Apocalypse.

You’ve seen it in movies and Series but never have you imagined that it really would happen.

The Professor closed the door and told you all to wait till the police comes and handle the little situation. But help never came.

You pulled out your half-charged phone hoping that the news would report that the government can handle this. All you saw was that the Police departments were under attack, and almost no one survived.

The whole city was on lockdown. And you were hiding in your classroom with your classmates.

The professor never came back. He probably died in the chaos at the own hands from his students who are just trying to protect themselves. or by Zombies.

Now the classroom seems like a save place but for days, weeks maybe even years (when you’re still alive) you knew that escaping the college is the safest idea.

Searching in the classroom for any weapon that could help you found a dissecting knife. You took it fast into your position before anyone can take it from you.

The classroom was quiet, too quiet. Like the calm before the storm.

You must find a better weapon than the small dissecting knife that’s used for surgeries or inspections on dead animals.

Most likely you wouldn’t find a weapon here in the classroom.

Your eyes shifted towards the door that has been locked, in hope none of those creatures would come here. It was a fake feeling of safety.

Everyone knows what a zombie is. But these are different. The way they move, the way they ate and who knows how they are created? Maybe a bite isn’t the only thing that transforms someone into a zombie.

A loud crashing sound made you snap out of your thoughts, and you looked at one of your classmates attacking one of your ex-friends.

Everyone watched in horror and didn’t knew what to do for themselves. The screams pierced your ear and the other didn't move an inch.

Without wasting time, you ran to the locked door and jumped with full force in the hard wood door. You have to escape and watching a slaughter isn’t the way how you’re going to die.

The pain from the harsh compact against the door didn’t stop you. You will not give up and most likely will not die in here.

Your classmates were watching how you were trying to open an escape but didn’t try to help you.

They were afraid that if they move that the zombie attack.

Your friend laid there in full display; half of the face is eaten away by the monstress being.

Your bone cracked slightly, you hissed in pain but continued. The adrenaline was pushing you to things you never thought you'd do. The pain only fueled more Adrenaline into your system.

Your heart raced a mile per minute. Your body heated up and you swung your body every time harsher against the wood surface.

Your skin, flesh and bone begged for a break, but you pushed your body against your limits. The door whined in protest as you lunged your body another time against it.

The door burst open, and the blood covered college hall came in your view.

You stumbled forward when your other classmates ran against you, the others almost walked all over you.

Your hands covered your body hoping it'll protect you from getting stepped over.

Assholes.

You looked up from the floor, your breath hitched as you looked at your dead Professor. In the middle of the floor there laid your professor in a pool of blood.

Karma hit the guy that rammed against you in full force. Your professor raised and lunged at the defenseless boy.

His screams were unbearable to hear. The anxiety in your body only grows every second.

You wanted it all to stop.

You sat in the middle of the chaos, your skirt you chose to wear today was soaked completely with blood.

You watched helplessly how your class clown got eaten in the most disgusting way.

The zombie lunged towards his body as if he searched something, something that he misses. But what could that be?

The zombie clawed with his short nails into the skin ripping the e guys fully open. Your body trembled under the disgusting sight.

As the professor seemed to not find what he was looking for, his body shifted to your direction.

His arms stretched out wanting to grab you, and a sound escaped him, a terrifying one.

Your body didn’t move as panic started to settle in, you’re the next to die. Tears started to burn their way in your eyes.

You are terrified.

His other arm was ripped off and he was still bleeding. But the zombie professor couldn't care less. A lifeless body who was searching for something desperate.

A bloody sight you wanted to look away from but couldn’t.

A hand clasped around yours and pulled you up on your feet. You were being dragged across the college, you stumbled a couple of times but never fell.

Your gaze never left your professor though as you ran through the red painted halls. As he wasn’t in your sight anymore you looked at your savior just to see your ex-boyfriend.

Striker.

“Are you okay sweetie?” His deep voice was irritating for you and brought flashbacks from your relationship.

He tried in these couple days to get back to you even though he cheated on you.

You forgot something in his house and just wanted to get it back. It was a short visit so you didn't tell him that you're going to pay a visit.

That’s when you saw Striker pounding into one of your friends Nova.

The betrayal was hurtful, you trusted her with all your heart and that stung more than some guy. Your heart ached from the loss of your boyfriend and your friend.

Striker only said the usual line: This is not what it looks like. Seriously these men need to have better excuses than this.

You pulled your hands out of his. “Fucking asshole, keep your disgusting question to yourself.” Striker rolled his eyes and tried to take your hand again, but you dodged his attempt.

“You got quite rude stallion. Remember when you used to get all cuddled up with me and begged me to dick you down.” He winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.

A cold shiver went down your spine at his pervert comment. “You’re disgusting.” Striker hummed at your respond and looked you up and down.

“Only for you baby.” He purred and stroked your cheek. You slapped his hand out of your face and walked towards the exit of the college.

He didn't change a bit.

You’d rather find a way to survive than staying any longer with your ex. Ignoring striker is the best option right now.

As you walked outside of the gates from the college grounds that was covered in corpses just to be met with way more outside. The sun was burning down on you making you sweat in anxious and the sudden heat.

A shiny object met your eye, it was a small butterfly knife. You sprinted towards it and danced in victory.

fuck yes! “Why are you dancing?” You cursed under your breath, “I thought you were already dead.” Striker chuckled and laid his hand on your shoulder. “You’re so mean baby~” He whispered in your ear. You wanted to gag at the nickname.

Since when was he behind you anyways?

“I know a place where we can stay.” Finally, something helpful from striker. “Yeah? Where?” Your positive voice brought a grin up to striker’s face. “Just follow me hottie.” His grin only raises a suspicion, but nonetheless it was safer with him than with these monsters.

As you followed behind striker the anxiety in you only grew and your suspicion was high. You two were now in the middle of nowhere in some kind of forest.

A large one at that.

Your pace started to slow down a bit and you regret your past decision to follow your ex-boyfriend in some lonely woods.

It’s not uncommon that exes kill their ex-partners. And in a zombie apocalypse no one would disagree with being a cannibal if it means to survive.

Humans were always self-centered. Even if some are generous. In the matter of living or dying every human is on their own and always just see themselves. Even you would hesitate when it comes to sacrifice yourself for a stranger.

Striker stopped and you walked right into his back, and you snapped out of your deep thoughts.

You Apologized and asked striker, why he stopped so sudden. “You play all brave and mighty but here you are quivering in fear.” You didn’t even realize that you started to shake in fear.

Striker spun around and pulled out a rather beautiful knife, “Now listen little bitch. Either you’re going to do what I say, or we can do it in the more fun way.” His tongue ran across the silver, and he laughed in pleasure.

You knew this was a bad idea. “What do you want striker?”

Stand tall, stand tall Y/n.

“I want you stallion.” His hand went out to grab your hair throwing you onto the grass ground. Confused you looked around and saw the butterfly knife laying peacefully in the green. It must’ve fallen out of your hand as Striker forced you to the ground.

“You really thought you could break up with ME?!” His hand collides with your shoulder, and he pressed down hard.

You bit on your tongue to stop the groan of pain. The damage of the door breaking was still fresh and introduced itself.

“Oh, babe you messed with the wrong one.” His knife ran across your cheek drawing red. His tongue ran across the new wound.

Your hand searched for the weapon but it was too far away from you.

“Let me go Striker” It was like you’re talking to a wall; he pushes himself down on you. His erected member was pressed onto your thigh, and it was disgusting.

You really hoped that his dick wouldn’t be anywhere near you.You wanted to puke into his face right now.

“You’re so hot stallion. So pretty and perfect for me.” You spat in strikers face. Striker growled in anger, but you don’t regret it even a bit. And it only angered Striker even more.

“Fucking cunt!” He shouted out loud and you just smirked bitter. But when Striker started to smile you frown. What has he planned? His hand travelled down onto his belt, and you heard it buckle.

Oh no.

He laughed at you terrified face. Now he hit your nerve. Striker was about to pull his trouser down but got interrupted.

“That’s not how you treat a Lady, y’know.” Striker stopped as he heard another voice that wasn’t yours and you sigh in relief.

Striker closed his belt back and let you go. Your feet pushed you away to the next tree and your eyes travelled to Striker towards your savior.

He had a large smirk onto his pearl white face, he had a weird sense of fashion. A white cylinder with a small snake on it was on his head. He was kind of short for a Man.

His eyes were brownish but a scarlet red shine through them, it fits perfect on him. Beautiful Man, beautiful eyes. You could watch hours in those eyes, it was like they were telling their own story. How they flicker and shimmer when the sun hits the iris was so beautiful.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Striker hissed, a reminder that he was still very near you. “Lucifer, not so a pleasure to meet you.” His smirk widens as Striker tried to attack him.

Yep, tried.

Lucifer dodged him perfectly and kicked with his heel right in the back from Striker. Striker hissed in pain and rolled on the floor. “You better leave and never come back to her, or you’ll regret it.” Lucifer voice was filled with Venom as he looked down at Striker.

His eyes shrunk in a snake like eye, scary but sexy at the same time. With a whimper Striker ran far away from Lucifer.

Fucking pussy.

Lucifer sighs and turned around to you. His hand stretched out for you to take it and you gladly accept. “Thank you for saving me.” Your thanking warmed his heart, “No Problem, it was the least I could do.”

You felt save around the new stranger. Maybe it was again the wrong decision to just trust a random handsome guy but how can you not.

“Lucifer, right?” Lucifer nodded with his head. “The one and only, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Lucifer bowed his hat firmly in his hands and you giggle at his antics. “And who are you darling?” He readjusted his hat and smiled as you Introduce yourself.

“I think we both could use some help and company in this mess.” Lucifers voice was almost like a warm sun breeze. Complete contrast than strikers. “It all happened out of nothing. First the zombies and then this.” You didn’t want to cry but at that moment you felt weak.

Your body betrayed you and you just cried in front of your new friend you could say.

_____

After a while you two found a cabin in the middle of nowhere. It seems to be a lost place, and no one lives in it. You and Lucifer planned to stay in the cabin for a while.

Life in the cabin was peaceful. Lucifer was the greatest room mate you could’ve Imagined. He was supportive and helped around the household. A man that women can only dream about.

Today Lucifer was out looking for any food he could find meanwhile you built up a fence.

When Lucifer came back you couldn’t help yourself better than to watch.

His shirt was draped over his shoulder and his god given abs and waist were showing. You gulped hard as you watch how the sweat pearls pearled down from his chest.

His body was more than just perfection, you almost felt jealous because of that waist of his. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He winked at you, and you only rolled your eyes which earns you a chuckle.

“You’re so mean kitty.” You huffed and gave him a side eye, “I’d stop if you wouldn’t be so annoying.” Your hand stretched out to get another nail. You hissed as the nail pierced through your fingertips. Lucifer laughed at your clumsiness. “This is already the fifth time kitty cat. Or should I say sleepy beauty.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your heart skipped a beat at his newfound nickname for you.

“Let’s get you patched up.”

A/n: FINALLY I CAN SHARE THIS. So, First thoughts?

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei

If you want to be added please comment on the post I linked below under Taglist.

Taglist

#shapard #hazbin hotel #y/n #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #zombie apocalypse #zombie au #naughty lucifer #pervy Lucifer

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treasureofmammon · 5 months

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Random mammon headcannon i want to share

He gets bad nightmares about you dying so sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat and crying. He normally cleans himself up as he sprints to your room in the middle of the night, needing to know if your ok.

Once he sees you sleeping and alive, he fixes your blanket and sits by your bed, resting his head on the bed as he stares at you. he eventually falls asleep looking at you, you have found mammon sleeping next to your bed multiple times but you he never tells you the real reason he was there

@ezracorner1

First off, I'm sorry. Honestly, I'm still figuring out how Tumblr works and realized late how to see Asks, and then I took my time to respond to you. I hope you can forgive me. I'm on my 20s, but I act like an old woman, apparently. Lol.

I took the liberty to make a short story about thiiiiissss!!!! After all, my sweet demons were on a war, they have some unresolved things to talk about and heal. They are obviously overprotective; so with a sweet little and weak lamb like us, they probably go over the top. I LOVE THE IDEA! Although I HATE the fact they probably live with PTSD, hence where the nightmares come from 😪

✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛

Warnings: Flashbacks and topics related to war and death. Hints to mental illnesses. Obvious attraction, but not an established relationship (yet). Angst at the beginning, but also, tenderness and care. I took some creative liberties since I haven't read some parts of the story (struggling to get UR cards), so some details might change from the OG storyline. Finally, I didn't check the syntaxes of the paragraphs so much. Sorry if some stuff doesn't make a lot of sense.

*I apologize in advance for what y'all might read, I absolutely love to write, but I'm not such a good writer. Lol*

[Note: Mammon x Gn!Neutral reader. Spoilers ahead- English is not my first language, so there might be orthographic and syntax errors - The following characters belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date" and are owned by Solmare Corporation. This is a mere work of fan-fiction. I took some creative liberty].

✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛

Nightmares and dreams

Mammon looks at his right, familiar faces, that he once called "siblings", shattering his other loved ones forever. Their comrades and family's expressions suddenly realize that their existence, one that could be eternal, are brought to an abrupt end at that exact moment. And some of them, many even, look at Mammon with despair, lost and afraid of their own death.

His almost extinct battalion, who he commanded, conformed by his little brothers and sisters that he once witnessed brought to life in a blow of Father's breath, forever gone. Some of them he watched grow up, hugged, played, spoiled, and then... trained. Not anymore. No clue will lay in history that they existed, no irrefutable proof of who they were.

Mammon's eyes widen in horror, mouth open in surprise.

He then looks around and catches in a glimpse a spear that falls graceful and fairly as a punisher of the traitors, hovering over Asmodeus, unerring.

—No. Not Asmodeus, not him!—

Mammon runs faster than the light and slides himself with his younger brother in his arms, successfully saving him from the imminent death. Mammon sighs and thinks it's fine now, but immediately, a penetrating scream is heard, and Beel and Belphie shred tears. The time freezes: all of them stop, every single one of the angels stops, the arrows fall to the green grass, and a new flurry of arrows never comes.

—Lilith... No!—.

Lucifer takes her in his arms, but the ground immediately opens, and both fall. Lucifer's wings turn black, and horns come out of his head as he descends in rapid speed; his halo is lost on the battlefield until Michael takes it with him as a prize for nothing.

Mammon follows them without a second thought, loyal as always, worried like the second brother he is, launching himself to a fall to a who-knows-where place.

As he falls, flames consume his body, his wings burn down to his core, his white robe dissipates, his halo turns in ashes and his head throbs in pain while he feels two horns that grow from it. But he doesn't lose sight of Lucifer and of Lilith's face. Except now is not Lilith's is yours.

Mammon loses his mind: the abyss he falls in turns pitch black, swallowing Lucifer and Lilith in his arms. He has a sinking feeling in his gut and screams, not scared of his own life, but scared of Lucifer's, Lilith's, and yours until his slim body finally bursts against the ground. The room is still completely dark. Shyly, he stands up, —Lucifer? Lilith?—, he calls.

Suddenly, a reflector light turns on. You are right below it, lighted up like a star. The yellowish rays touch your silhouette gracefully as if you were an angel yourself. Beautiful. Candid. Endearing.

—MC? —

You turn around to look at him and smile tenderly, like you usually do. His heart melts. For a short moment, his worries dissappear and he smiles back. He walks to you, enchanted by your bright soul.

Until a pair of claws dig in your back. Your scream never heard. In a gasp, you fall to the ground, bloody, and a set of glowing purple eyes withdrawn into the emptiness of the never-ending darkness of the room.

—NO!— Mammon screams and rushes to you, your face now lifeless, while blood scapes your body. He cries your name, but there's no response. Suddenly, a familiar voice chants: —This is your fault! She died because of you!—. A new figure emerges from the blackness.

—Lucifer?—

—No—, finally revealing his identity, —I'm you—. Mammon's own face responds back.

Mammon's eyes open wide suddenly. Awake, gasping and panting, scared, drowned in his own sweat. He sits in his bed and takes his forehead in his hands. A nightmare.

Mammon feels his heart pace altered. And he tries to calm down.

—It was just a nightmare... right? It felt too damn real. They're here, they're just asleep, they ain't death, right?—

Rationally, Mammon knows he had a bad dream, but a part of him drags him to unreality, so he jumps out of bed, leaves his room, and makes his way to yours. On the short path, he takes his shirt off and notices that even his torso is dripping in sweat, but he manages to clean his face with his wet shirt.

Slowly and carefully, he opens the door of your room, still gasping for air, now in a much more stable breathing pace. When the door is open enough, he peeks inside your room, there, you lay in bed tranquil, your face expression at peace, and your chest slowly moving up and down, asleep.

—Thanks Lilith...—, he whispers and lets himself in your room, knowing that once again, as usual after dreaming your passing, he might be violating your space and the sanctity of your placid sleep. But, he does it anyway. You're his human, after all.

Mammon stands for a short while, looking at you, making sure you're real and safe. He fixes your blanket, covering you well. Then, quietly, he drags your desk's chair to your bed's side and sits, watching you dream your own dreams, snoring softly, comfortable, and even happy.

—I love ya—, he whispers and observes you until his eyelids can't stay open, his head resting right next to your hand.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, Mammon is lying right next to you, uncomfortable. You sigh, thinking that it's happening again.

Gently, you reach to his hand, and he wakes up in a jump, confused and scared.

—MC?—

This time, you don't ask a thing. You just pull his hand to you, and he gets the hint, half asleep, not sure if you inviting him to share the bed is another dream that feels too real again or reality itself.

Mammon nuzzles against your chest, and you throw your arms around him after covering him up with your blanket, too; then, you kiss his temple, trying to convey all your emotions in one little peck.

—I have no idea why you do this— you admit, —but I don't mind sharing my bed with you, Mammon; after all, I love you—.

Your love confession, unheard. For now, that's okay, as long as you can hold your best friend and crush on your arms as if you were lovers already.

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fluff-n-cookies · 4 months

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Endeavor - Intro/Headcanons

Endeavor is a very underrated character.

yes he was an abuser, but he is trying to be a better father. and even though hen still gets mad and doesn't really know how to show his emotions he's still trying. As someone who doesn't have the best relationship with her father, and also as some one who is trying to be a better person I can appreciate that.

I feel like if somebody were to give him a chance, somebody that has little to no knowledge of his past or status he could actually have a stable and healthy relationship with such a person.

but that on it's own is boring so make it a reader who was just recently put in an orphanage as she was saved from her neglectful parents and has no other family. we'll keep her around the age of 4-15 as those were the years that endeavor missed the most with his kids.

now, how would these two meet? I have a couple ideas and I'll write a fanfic (or fanfics) for the most popular one. (there's a poll below for y'all to decide.)

option 1 : Bus stop

reader is around 5,6,7 years old and quirkless.

so you and Endeavor have a similar morning commute at the same bus stop, at the same time, every morning. you go to school, and him to his agency. and while Endeavor never really cared for this, one morning you happen to forget your coat at the orphanage. (not that it kept you warm anyway.) the sight of a child in winter, cold and alone, practically pulled at his heart strings. a feeling overcame him I suppose, a need to protect and provide perhaps. and begrudgingly he got out a sweater, all warm and fluffy and lent it to you, grumbling something about giving it back to him later. now all snuggled up within the oversized cotton fibers of the sweater, warm and happy, all you could really do is mumble out a little thank you. Imma bout' to pull a grinch but Endeavor's heart grew 3 times that day.

Option 2 : support hero

reader is 15 and quirkless but uses support items to help her if she needs anything.

you are the apprentice of his main support hero, a wild, spunky woman who spends her days drinking, drunk, or hungover. ( I mean... good for her.) and yes while she does teach you, she usaully leaves all the real work to you. at this point she's your apprentice. so when Endeavor comes it's not her that really helps it's you! you repair, you improve, you operate the rest of the support heroes, honestly he should give you a raise. and it's nice, having you around I mean, you just always seem to make his day better, either by showing him cat memes, or explaining your latest obsession to him, or just being your self. it's a talkative and optimistic x furious monster that will fight to the death for them dynamic or a brings instant noodles to share for lunch x uses his fire quirk to actually cook the instant noodles with his fire quirk dynamic.

Option 3 : Dabi

more of a Endeavor-Dabi mix for the drama. reader is 4 and gets her quirk in the story. her quirk is a heightened version of shoto's quirk which I'll expand on if this is the fan favorite.

you are the product of Dabi and a fling he had when he was 19 or 20, and while he may not have the most money or have the money, he still tires to protect you and and make you feel as cherished and loved as one can. growing up he never really showed you what a hero was. all you need to know is that they are not good people but don't tell anyone that lots of people don't know that and might get angry. now this is fine and all, Dabi protects your innocence while also protecting you from the world that hurt him. but one thing he negelcted to teach you is who is a hero. because the description he gave you "people attempting to 'save' people and fight 'bad guys' using their quirks often with swarms of people around them." only applies to heros in action and/or heros that the public actually like. so when Endeavor is placed to patrol in a relatively bad neighbourhood (it's the best one dabi could afford HE"S TRYING C"MON) around the time kids go and comeback from school to make sure they get home safe is when he meets you. a little girl with white hair like snow and sapphire blue eyes that glisten with joy.

POLLS!!!

thx for reading!!! byyeee.

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sissylittlefeather · 9 months

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A/N: Ha HA! Another one done! This is the 68 Special one that I promised y'all after the poll. It goes with my series that is currently unnamed, but includes Baby, What's Your Name, Goodnight, Sweetheart and Always, Honey. There are references to all three in here. It takes place before What Kind of Question is That? and Feels Like Forever. This is angstyyy, but the way the story is in my brain, the mid section is that way and the whole story is kind of tragic, in a way. It's very Catherine/Heathcliff (they should be together but can't be for some reason). I didn't set out to write a tragic story, but there ya go. It is what it is. I hope y'all like it anyway!

Also, don't be shy. Let me know what you think! I'd love to hear from you 😁

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, kissing, ANGST

Also, I'm using Elvis gifs for this one because I like actual EP here, but if it makes you happy to imagine Austin!Elvis, do you boo-boo.

I Missed You

It's been over 3 years since you last saw Elvis. This is the longest you've been apart since you met all those years ago. You haven't seen him since he got married or became a father. He did all of those things without you and it nearly broke you. Still, you'd had your own marriage happen and fall apart, too. You wondered if you'd ever tell him that it was because of him and the fact that you never could seem to stop loving him.

The year is 1968 and you just got off the phone with a friend of yours who works in Hollywood. According to her, Elvis is going to be recording a new show soon and they're looking for audience members. She called to see if you might be interested in seeing an old friend.

No one really knows what you had with Elvis. Well, no one but your old roommate. Still, despite your long history, he never made you public like his other girlfriends. Maybe it's because keeping you a secret made the romance hotter. Or maybe it's because keeping you a secret meant he could keep you all to himself. Either way, your love affair had always been something that only the two of you really knew about.

But an opportunity to see Elvis again is hard to turn down, even with everything that's happened between you. Perhaps seeing him one last time will give you the closure you need to move on. You decide to call your friend back and see what you need to do to be in that audience.

******

Now that you're here, you start to wonder if this was a good idea. You're sitting in the audience in your new mod-style pink gingham dress with white boots and a white headband. You wonder if he will even see you in the crowd. Will he notice the pink gingham?

Your hands are starting to sweat and you wipe them on your skirt, pulling on it to try to get it to cover more of your thighs. You're not a teenager anymore and this dress is starting to feel a bit ridiculous.

One of the producers of the show comes out to explain to the audience how to react to the "applause" signs. Elvis is coming out soon and you're starting to feel a little sick at the prospect of seeing him. You don't remember the last time you were this nervous.

And then he's there. On the small square stage, right in front of you, in black leather. Your heart jumps and your warm center gets a little warmer. He looks good. Not that you expected him not to, but he looks better than you could've imagined. He breaks into That's Alright Mama and you're instantly transported back to that first show where you threw your panties on the stage to get his attention. You start to laugh a little thinking about what might happen if you did the same thing right now. You'd probably get carried out by a security guard.

He sings 4 songs and then they do a set change to him sitting down with his old band mates for a kind of casual jam session. You're still waiting for him to notice that you're there. Part of you is starting to hope that he'll never notice and you can just slink back onto a plane and go home. Seeing him has enlivened every feeling you've ever had for him and you can't help but have flashbacks to every time he's ever touched you. You long to feel his strong hands on your body, his lips on yours, his fingers and tongue doing unspeakable things between your legs. You squeeze your legs together and pray that you're not going to leave a puddle on your seat.

And then it happens. He's walking around the stage singing again and he kneels just feet from you. You're in the second row, far enough back to be out of reach, but close enough to be visible. He looks out into the audience and your eyes meet. Ever the professional performer, he only freezes for a second when he sees you. You feel like someone dumped ice water down your back and it's suddenly hard to breathe. You want to get up and run out, but you can't. And just when you think he's completely unaffected by you, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. Then he stands up, turns away from you, and keeps singing.

But he comes back.

He walks around the stage like he's supposed to, but he always comes back to you and keeps his eyes locked onto yours for as long as possible before he has to move. Every time it happens, your heart skips a beat and you start to wonder how much more you can take. Just when you think you might melt from the intensity of his gaze, he leaves the stage and the producer comes back and says that filming is done for the day.

You sit there for a while and let the other people around you file out. Eventually you get up and head for the exit. You're one of the last people in the room as you head for the door. And then you hear someone behind you. You turn, expecting someone to tell you that you need to leave, but no.

It's him.

You stand and stare at each other for a good minute before he speaks. He asks a single question.

"Where can I find you later?"

You want to tell him to go to hell. Instead, you hear yourself say, "Hollywood Hilton, room 647."

He nods, turns, and jogs away from you back to wherever he came from. A man comes and ushers you out the exit door. You head back to your hotel in disbelief. You're not sure what you expected, but it wasn't that.

******

You're trying really hard to stop pacing in your hotel room. The clock on the night stand says 12:24am. You're still wearing the pink and white dress, mainly because you're too nervous to change into anything else, but you're barefooted now, your boots in a pile by the door. You tell yourself you are giving him until 1am and then you're going to bed. That's when you hear the knock on your door.

Your stomach tenses up and your heart jumps into your throat. You walk to the door and open it carefully. Elvis walks in quickly and closes it behind himself. You're reminded of the time he did that when you lived in the dorm and you almost laugh out loud.

"Who are you hiding from?"

"Everyone." He looks at you like no time has passed since the last time you were alone like this. He puts his hand on the side of your face and for a moment you let him. Then you move away from him.

"Don't."

"Honey, why--"

"You have a wife."

"And you have a husband. Never stopped us before."

"I don't have a husband anymore."

"All the more reason--"

"You married her, Elvis." He looks down at the floor.

"She has your baby. You're somebody's father."

"I know that."

"Then why did you come here?" He picks up your hand and kisses the inside of your palm, just like he did so many years before.

"I missed you." You want to take that hand and slap him with it. For a second, you really consider it. Instead, you pull it away from him and turn to face the window. If you look at him, you might give in.

He comes up behind you and touches your dress on your shoulder.

"You know I've always loved you in pink."

"It matches--"

"--the dress you wore on the first night. I remember."

That almost convinces you to turn around, but instead you shake his hand off your shoulder. You can't turn around. Not yet.

"Elvis, we said this was over."

"We've said that before."

"Yeah, but last time I thought we meant it."

He walks around in front of you and faces you. He seems afraid to touch you again.

"Baby, you know I could never mean it."

You cross your arms over your chest and look up at him. He looks different now, grown up and fully himself, but he's still the same boy from Memphis who said he would always be yours.

"No. Go home to your wife, Elvis."

You can see in his eyes that that stung. You immediately wish you hadn't said it, but you did and it wasn't untrue. He does have a wife to go home to and you have what? No one because you can't seem to move on from him. He's as much a part of you as you are of him.

"You know what you mean to me." You do know. But sometimes you just wish he would say the words.

You walk past him to the hotel room window and look out at the street below. They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but this town could give it a run for its money. There seems to be people everywhere. He speaks again, ripping you out of your reverie.

"You know, I could ask you the same question. Why did you come to my show?" You step back from the window and look up at the ceiling. That, you don't have an answer for. You're not even sure why you came. It's no use lying to him or yourself anymore. You turn to face him with tears in your eyes.

"I missed you."

It only takes him three steps to walk across the room and pull you into a deep and passionate kiss, his arms around you to keep you from pulling away. You know you should pull away, but you don't even try. You melt into him like snow in the rain, your mouths picking up a rhythm easily. Kissing him is familiar and satisfying and you begin to wonder why you ever stopped. You wrap your arms around his neck and let yourself get lost in him. He walks you backwards to the dresser and then lifts you up so that you're sitting on it. He runs both hands up your thighs and then grabs your hips, pulling them into his own. You break the kiss and moan softly into his mouth as you feel his hardness press into you. In a second, he has the dress up, over your head, and off. Your fingers shake as you undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and push it off of his shoulders with his jacket, letting them both fall to the floor. The whole time, he's kissing you on the neck, on your chest, and shoulder, and jawline, and lips. It almost feels like he's trying to devour you whole. In fact, he bites the skin next to your collarbone at one point hard enough that you let out a small yelp. He knows you well enough to know that's a good sound. You grab the back of his hair and pull his head backward, diving into a deep kiss with heavy tongue. He almost breaks your bra, trying to rip it off of you and your panties don't stand a chance as he tears at them and throws them to the side. The button pops off of his pants as you feverishly try to get them off of him. He slides them off his hips and to the floor, letting his erection free to land against your thigh. The sight and feel of it there elicits a moan from your mouth and a good deal of wetness from between your legs. He pulls you to the edge of the dresser and pushes himself inside you. He slams into you heatedly and you both start to sweat. You can feel your climax building around him as he pumps. He's still kissing you all over your face and neck, dipping his tongue into your mouth periodically. Your hands grip his back as your fingernails dig into his skin. As many times as you've been together, it's never felt like this before. There's a desperation and need in both of you that's completely new. You wrap your legs around him and he carries you to the bed, still inside of you. You fuck for a while with him on top of you, until you push him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Then, you turn away from him and lower yourself onto him, holding onto his thighs for support. While you slide up and down on him, he reaches forward and makes circles with his finger on the spot between your legs that makes you cry out his name.

"Elvis, fuck!" You scream as your climax pounds into you from every angle, rushing through you from your center to your edges and back again. You turn around and push him back onto the bed. He moves himself backwards until he's fully on the bed and you can ride him easily. You're grinding your hips against him, so that he is so deep inside of you. Nothing seems to be deep enough to satisfy you tonight. You want to swallow him up and keep him there inside you. He moans and grunts while you work, obviously approaching his climax. He flips you over one last time and thrusts into you a few times before he shudders and cusses and fills you with his warmth. You're both dripping wet with sweat and covered in marks from the other's teeth and fingernails. He rolls over off of you and lays next to you, both of you breathing heavily. He picks up your hand and kisses your fingers.

"Oh, honey, I have missed you so much." He smiles at you and holds your hand on his chest. You get up and go to the bathroom, trying to forget that you just committed adultery with him. Again. When you come back, you get some panties out of your suitcase and put them on. Then, you climb back into bed, where he's arranged himself as if he's going to sleep there.

"Don't you... have to... go?" You ask tentatively. You think of his wife, probably pacing her room waiting for him to come home.

"No." He doesn't give any more detail and you don't ask. He puts his arm around you and pulls you close to him. "I'm staying here." He kisses the side of your head.

It feels so good to have him wrapped around you again. This won't be the last time you're together.

He waits until he thinks you're asleep, and you almost are, when he whispers,

"I love you, baby."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist: @itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 1 year

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🗒️ Vandal 🗒️

Word Count: 16,000+ (And nobody asked for any of it!)

Summary: A quiet high school student looks a little too closely at the tragic events afflicting their hometown. Can you uncover the truth while keeping your own secrets hidden? Or will a lapse in judgment expose you to a world of hurt? || Kol x disabled!reader || Here lies my Masterlist

Warnings: Some language, references to blood and gore, Kol being a psycho, and some dubious consent but nothing violent or graphic. This turned out a little more Yandere than I intended. Just expect ya gal's general tomfoolery.

A/N: Howdy-doo, this is your captain speaking. I know I promised a lot of you that I would have the sequel to Run for Your Life finished last week, but it's still not done and I'm really sorry. I wrote this instead. Please forgive me. I hate letting y'all down but inspiration has been really low as of late and, as some of you know, I've been facing some very serious struggles with people in my life. My sense of self-worth has been suffering, but writing this fic has been my best escape. So again, I'm really sorry to those who were expecting the Klaus fic, but I hope you like this one nonetheless.

🗒️ Story Begins Below 🗒️

When Niklaus Mikaelson confined himself to his studio, it was common knowledge among all parties of blood relation to the original hybrid that any sibling who valued their breathing privileges should promptly vacate the premises until such a time as that tortured artist ceased muttering his internal monologue aloud.

Kol, for one, was quite fond of his breathing privileges, thank you very much.

Ugh, breathing.

The one thing he’d never thought would require adjusting to through the centuries was now yet another factor among a dozen others that required getting used to.

The air of this new age he’d found himself in was thick and hazy with chemicals and other nonsense he didn’t care to think about. Drawing the filthy mixture into his lungs required significantly more effort from him than it used to. He wondered vaguely how the humans surrounding his seat at the bar of this stodgy town’s only decent restaurant did it with such ease. It must’ve been tiring. Perhaps that was why so many of the patrons around him seemed content to spend their morning religiously devoted to quaffing down as much of that - oh, what had Mary-Alice called it? - caffeine stuff as they could possibly contain.

Though the name would suggest otherwise, Kol figured the only way the Mystic Grill, as the place was called, could remain in business was to serve breakfast, lunch, dinner, and drinks. Hence why the place was packed with half-conscious teenagers at the ungodly hour of six in the morning, stopping off for something to eat on their way to school. How did Rebekah enjoy this? Though she’d accompanied him to the grill, Kol’s sister had been quick to grab her coffee and ditch him. She wanted to arrive to school early so she could “talk”. (The notion tempted Kol to impale himself on a billiard cue.)

Rebekah was also rather upset with him, or more specifically, his newfound enrollment in her high school. There was nothing he could do about that, however. If it was up to him, Kol would choose to spend his time literally any place else. Unfortunately for him, after that little incident with Rebekah’s date, mother dearest had been contemplating ways to keep him in line. High school was evidently what she’d come up with. It was Finn’s idea actually. Kol’s eldest brother - dull lout that he was - had suggested that perhaps attending high school with his sister would provide a convenient way for Kol to catch up on recent history, as well as assist him in developing some control over his appetite seeing as each family member had given their word not to shed the blood of any locals. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Esther had done more than just readily agree. She’d also cast a tracking spell on him. If he strayed beyond the town’s limits, she would know.

Rest assured, he would find a way to weasel out of it - that was certain. But for now, Kol was stumped. This resurrected version of his mother wasn’t quite so dismissive of him as she’d been in Kol’s human life. He should have liked that - should have reveled in it. Yet, having her attention this time around came with a cold harshness he wasn’t so fond of. For now though, he would have to endure his punishment. Thanks to Klaus, he couldn’t even skip out.

Thus Kol found himself in an overly crowded restaurant, at six in the morning on his first day of school, surrounded by teenagers.

Kol desperately wished he could eat one or two of them.

They were so rowdy and obnoxious. The whole world it seemed had grown significantly louder since he’d been daggered in nineteen fourteen. So much information assaulting his senses constantly. It was maddening. Being surrounded by thirty or so warm bodies didn’t exactly help. The chorus of their heartbeats fell on his sensitive ears like the cresting of ocean waves and like a riptide, he would surely be carried away if he allowed himself to listen much longer.

The boy’s throat burned. He was hungry. Always hungry. He could practically taste the relief on his tongue. The high he could get from just one little cheerleader…

Kol got up from his seat, grabbed his bag, and shoved his way out the door, cursing Finn’s name to Hel and back. He reached the end of the street and stopped. Raking his fingers through his hair, Kol rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath.

Wrong move.

A gentle autumn breeze swept past and carried with it a hint of something sweet. No, that was too tame. That scent on the air was like pure sugar and spring water, something like berries and roses and cotton candy all rolled into one supremely tempting aroma so overpowering he nearly choked. White hot pain shot through him and his mouth watered. He was standing in the midst of town square before he even realized he’d moved.

There, kneeling hunched over on the ground, all alone in the early morning, was a young woman who looked about the same age as he did. Any view of her face was obscured by the curtain of her hair as it fell around her in something of an untamed mess. Her clothes, nothing fancier than a t-shirt and shorts, were rumpled and irreparably stained with just about every color one could imagine as she focused intently on whatever she was doing. Scattered all around her were about a dozen cans of paint and at least a hundred individual sticks of chalk in a variety of shades. She was decorating the walkways, Kol realized as he watched her dip her hand directly into one of the cans of paint before slathering the color over the flagstones she was working on. Once satisfied that the area was evenly covered, she sat up.

The girl paused to wipe her hand on a wet rag before shuffling back around to a different section where the paint looked a little drier.

Kol had just enough time to register the pattern of scrapes that decorated her hands and knees before that delicious scent washed over him again. It was stronger now that he was so close and like a punch to the gut, just a whiff of it knocked the wind out of him. His throat seared and his fangs ached. She was right there in front of him, trickles of blood seeping from her hands and knees - rivers of temptation. Whatever ichor was rushing through that girl’s veins would certainly be divine. Kol wanted it. He wanted to taste her warm human skin - wanted to lick the scarlet from those teasing little scrapes she’d made. No one was around. He could have that sweet, sweet crimson ambrosia all to himself.

There was just one problem. This girl was a local. Her residence was clear from the tags dangling from her backpack which she’d tossed a few feet away. Kol couldn’t eat any of the locals, he’d given his word on it.

Unfortunately for him, that boy’s sense of honor apparently wasn’t enough to keep his legs from moving. He was standing over her shoulder in a matter of seconds. His looming shadow must have caught her attention because the girl paused her work (she was rubbing lines of chalk into the paint now) and twisted around to look up at him, squinting against the rising sun at his back. Her cheeks were twinged with a delicious shade of pink, likely due to the warm, humid morning, and she smiled in a friendly, albeit slightly confused way.

“Hey!” She greeted - voice practically a chirp. The girl lifted a hand to her face in an effort to further block out the sun, but the offensive light couldn’t dampen her smile. Kol fought the urge to roll his eyes at her sunny disposition.

“Good morning, darling.” He flashed her a grin - the crooked one that made girls like her faint. Kol gestured to the swirling mix of hues currently stinging his eyes. “What’s this going to be?”

The girl blinked and tilted her head. “Could you say that a little louder?” She asked. Her voice was soft but rich with a delicate, wispy quality to it like a warm caramel stretched apart. He supposed it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to listen to.

“Are you painting something specific or is it more abstract?” He wondered, raising his voice a little. Abstract was certainly the most polite term for eyesore, he thought.

“Oh, uh, yeah! It’s Mystic Falls,” She said brightly. Then she paused. Her face scrunched up a bit and even Kol could admit it was a little endearing. “Um, I mean, not the town, but like, the falls as in the waterfalls… yeah.” Her voice tapered off into a whisper at the end and she cast her eyes away.

Kol hummed. “I see.” He didn't actually care, however. He’d seen enough. This girl, tantalizing as her blood might be, wasn’t worth his time - nor his mother’s wrath should he break his oath. There was no thrill in chasing someone like that, girls like her gave in too easily.

Without warning, the little artist stiffened and whipped her head back up to face him, drawing Kol from his thoughts.

“Say, what’s the time?” She wondered, biting her lip anxiously. Her lips looked rather tasty when she did that.

Kol raised a brow and checked his watch. “Ten to seven,” He answered.

She cocked her head again. “Sorry, what?”

“Ten to seven,” He repeated a little louder.

“Huh?”

“Bloody hell!” The boy huffed. “It’s six-fifty! Are you Deaf?”

She snorted. “Uh, huh. Yeah.” Kol’s eyes narrowed but the girl only turned her head, shoving a lock of hair back to reveal some technological array perched over her ear. The artist shrugged and faced him again. “It’s the accent, I think. Plus, it ain’t my fault you mumble. What time did you say it was again? I forgot.”

It wasn’t the disability that annoyed him, he wasn’t that shallow. It was her attitude he couldn’t stand.

“Six. Fifty. One,” He ground out through clenched teeth.

Her eyes widened. “CRAP!”

The annoying little artist sprang to her feet, scooped her bag from where she’d flung it, and dashed off just like that. He huffed at her lack of tact - not so much as a word of thanks. It was probably best for both of them if they never saw each other again. That mouth-watering ray of sunshine was unlikely to survive another encounter with him.

As he debated whether or not to just wander around aimlessly for the remainder of the day, Kol caught sight of an object that must have tumbled out of the artist’s bag. Only the slightest bit curious, he bent down to pick it up. Upon taking a closer look at it, Kol raised a brow. Well worn and faded, the sketchbook in his hands was nothing special - almost every artist had one, that was no surprise. What caught his attention, however, was the design on the cover, or more accurately, what had been made of it. Whereas the front of the sketchbook had once depicted a quaint scene from what he recognized to be the story Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, with little Alice looking up at the Cheshire Cat perched lazily in a tree, the girl had turned it into something far more sinister.

For one thing, she’d given Alice a broadsword. Her dress had been redecorated with dirt stains and blood. As for the Cheshire Cat, the artist had transformed the feline into a marionette with blood-stained teeth and dreadful claws. The background had been scribbled out with a black marker. All save for a grinning silhouette, tugging at the strings of its Cheshire Cat puppet, and a line of bold, bloody letters spelling out the phrase: “We’re All Mad Here.”

It was a delightfully grotesque perversion of a story Kol had rather enjoyed reading when it was first published. Perhaps that girl wasn’t quite so boring after all.

Kol smirked and slipped the sketchbook into his own school bag. Serves her right for being so disrespectful. Besides, the book was steeped in that exquisite aroma of hers, and if he couldn’t devour the poor thing then keeping a little memento was his next best option. If she wanted it back, she’d simply have to prove herself deserving of it. Until then, that little book of horrors was all his.

Who knows what he might do with it?

No matter what, this was bound to be… entertaining.

***

You’d never liked cheerleaders. They’d always seemed so shallowly chipper - the sort of nice that giggles behind a person’s back. Most people said you were just jealous, wishing you could have their beauty, body, or popularity. They were wrong, of course, cheerleading simply wasn’t your thing. As for appearances, at least you were confident enough in your looks that you didn’t require validation from fellow minors. You never corrected the masses though. You let them think whatever they want. (After all, you had other, more important things on your mind.)

All feelings about cheerleaders aside, they were excellent subjects for drawing poses. It was them or the football team and you couldn’t be paid enough to go anywhere near them. Besides, you had already obtained permission from the members of the cheer squad to sit in on their practices. They figured you must have been lonely and seeking their approval. You didn’t correct them either. The girls on the squad were nice enough, though you didn’t know any of them very well. Just some first names.

Caroline, Bonnie, Amber, Laura, Rebekah.

Now that Rebekah was an odd one. She sort of unnerved you. Like the rest, the British blonde was nice enough, but something about her wasn’t quite right. She’d just dropped off the map for a month and a half and then showed up today as if she’d never been gone. Then there was her relationship with the other cheerleaders. Half of them avoided her like the plague and the other half worshiped the ground she walked on. It wasn’t normal.

Life isn’t like the drama shows all over tv. Kids in the real world don’t act that way.

You hadn’t grown up in Mystic Falls. Your parents moved your family into town one year ago. Though you were just a sophomore then, you knew enough to understand that something about this whole town and everything that had been happening within the last year just wasn’t right. Within your sophomore and junior years alone, no less than twenty-six kids were reported missing. At least six were later confirmed dead.

Was it really any wonder you kept to yourself?

You were fine with being alone. It didn’t bother you.

What bothered you was that you had somehow lost track of your sketchbook. That bundle of pages hardly ever left your person. You never went anywhere without it, and yet when you had sat on the bleachers and reached into your backpack to pull it out, lo and behold, it was nowhere to be found. Who knew what small-town hic had gotten their grubby little hands on it?

Alright, that was mean. You just wanted your book back. The idea of someone else flipping through your sketches irked you to no end.

“Well hello again, darling!” A semi-familiar voice rang out from behind you on the bleachers and you twisted around to face him. Had that kid been up there all this time? The boy grinned down at you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You offered him a tight smile.

“Yeah,” You said quietly. “Fancy that.”

The boy was pretty, that was for sure. Dark hair, dark eyes, a strong brow, and a sharp jawline. Not to mention that smile, you’d sooner light yourself on fire than call it “dazzling” but you would like to draw it sometime. All in all, he was probably the closest thing to masculine perfection you would ever lay eyes upon. But you weren’t dumb enough to judge a person off of looks alone.

Though you had nothing to go off of aside from your brief meeting that morning, you didn’t quite like that kid. On the surface, he seemed alright. A little impatient but still pretty normal. It was the way he looked at you… it reminded you of the feeling you got back in your old town whenever you noticed that your best friend's pet boa constrictor was watching you from inside its tank - how its eyes would follow you no matter what you did. It wasn’t an exactly pleasant sensation. Those onyx eyes of his - when you looked into them, you couldn’t see much of a person looking back. His eyes sparkled when he smiled but behind them… behind them there was nothing. A charming grin without a person inside.

The boy’s odd smile only broadened.

“You know, I-I didn’t take you for the cheerleading type,” He said. You tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear, squinting against the sun in your eyes. Did he always have to position himself so you had to blind yourself to look at him?

“I’m… not.”

He chuckled. “Obviously.” Climbing to his feet, the boy hopped up onto the seat in front of him and walked gracefully down to your level - at least, as gracefully as one can while walking on bleachers. You should probably warn him about the-

“Careful, that next one wobbles,” You spoke up. Your voice never seemed to come out as loud as you intended, yet he didn’t seem to have a problem catching it.

“Ah-” He tested the next row with his foot and stepped over it lightly. “Thank you very much.” He grinned again as he jumped down beside you.

The boy was much too close for your liking.

“You’re welcome,” You mumbled, shuffling away slightly. He only leaned in closer.

“So, if you’re with the cheerleaders, but you’re not one of them, then what does that make you?” He wondered, oblivious or insensitive to your discomfort. You couldn’t tell which. “Unrequited lover or wannabe?”

He raised a brow, smirking in a way that appeared bemused but you could sense its condescending edge. You just shrugged. He could think whatever he wanted.

He was baiting you, that you were sure of. The dark-haired senior wanted you to answer. He waited for you to answer. But his was a lure you weren't going to bite. You just kept on drawing - filling in lines, and fine-tuning expressions. You were sure he would give up eventually, kids like him always did.

“Are those your chemistry notes?” He asked finally.

You hummed and nodded. You’d never been too much of a talker. It had nothing to do with your hearing loss, or maybe it did. That was just who you were either way.

“And you’re sketching in them?”

You shrugged. “Lost my sketchbook.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” At least he had the decency to sound sympathetic. “Did you have it this morning?” You nodded. This boy was persistent, you would give him that. He kept talking. “I see… Well, I'm sorry to hear that, darling. I would have loved to see it,” He said.

Your lips twitched up in a smile. You wouldn’t have shown him anyway, but that didn’t matter.

“Thanks,” You whispered.

"You never answered my question," He pointed out. He was trying to get to you - get closer to you - and while any other girl would do backflips for the attention of a boy like him, you weren't any other girl. If he wanted to know you, then you couldn't let that happen. If you did, he might figure out your secret. Then you could lose everything - your education, your clean record, and the only money-making opportunity you were likely to get in this tiny, provincial town.

"I know." You sighed and closed your substitute sketchbook, just a little fed up. Maybe it was time to let the sunny, shy-girl facade drop. Perhaps a quick glimpse of who you really were would deter him. "But you're here too. So which are you? Unrequited lover or wannabe?"

The boy threw his head back and laughed, loud and clear. His laugh sounded like a stone splashing into a calm pond. Sudden and unique - one of a kind. When his gaze returned to you, he seemed to look you over as if reevaluating his previous judgment of your character. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and shrugged.

"That's a fair point you make there, darling. I'll have to disappoint you, however, as I am merely here to pick up my sister." He gestured to the girls practicing on the field and then shot you a smirk. The boy held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, darling. I'm Kol, Kol Mikaelson.”

Your eyes flicked to his outstretched hand, weary.

"I…"

Glancing up, you met the endless black pits that were his eyes. Your stomach felt queasy. Better to be safe than sorry.

You pushed his hand away. "I… don't particularly care."

Without another word, you packed up your things and skipped down the bleachers. Exiting left of the football field.

Perhaps you'd left him stunned. You didn't bother looking back to check.

You started seeing Kol quite often after that, which wouldn't have been weird had he not been a year above you. If it wasn't coincidence that saw you sharing both lunch period and study hall with him, then you didn't want to think about what it was. He kept his distance, which you appreciated. Kol didn't approach you for a while, but whenever you were in the same room with him you couldn't seem to shake a feeling that you were being watched. Closely.

The day that pattern changed was the day you walked down the hall and found yourself greeted by photocopies of your art taped to every locker. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes landed on that first row of metal doors. The papers fluttered in the wind generated by passing students but you would recognize your art anywhere.

It was one of the pages from your sketchbook - one of the sketches no one was supposed to see.

This one depicted the football team, gathered on the field for practice. The sky above was dark and they had their helmets off. Each player's complexion was ghostly pale and their glowing red eyes all stared soullessly at the viewer. Their expressions displayed no emotion, but together they stood in a threatening formation. You had taken inspiration from both classic zombie movies and The Matrix for that sketch. In the top left corner, you had etched the title. You called it "The Hive."

The only problem was, you hadn't exactly obtained the team's permission to draw it.

To make matters worse, someone had added an inscription to the image that read: "Members of The Hive possess no individual thought or personality. Furthermore, they acknowledge only other facets of their collective consciousness." The words were scrawled across a crumpled sticky note attached to the top right-hand corner of the page. You hadn't written those words, but it sure looked like your handwriting. Your name was even signed at the bottom.

Someone had stolen and altered your sketchbook, and now they were using it against you.

Panic and paranoia welled up inside you. Clutching your books to your chest, you quickened your pace, catching glimpses of more and more hallways decorated with your sketch. Whispers followed you as you rushed down the hall to your locker, hoping to escape and find solace in your first class of the day, but you had no such luck. Reaching your destination, you gasped at the sight before you, recoiling in shame and confusion. It was like a shot taken straight from a television drama. This thief - whoever they were - had covered your locker with copies of that picture.

Who would do something like this? You had only been in town a year - you wouldn't have thought that long enough to garner this degree of animosity from anyone.

"What the actual hell, Y/N?" A student exclaimed from down the hall.

Your mouth hung, gaping in shock and you floundered for something - anything to say. There was nothing. No defense.

"Yeah, Y/L/N! What did Matt and the team ever do to you?"

Your eyes widened. "What?" You shook your head, blinking rapidly as you tried to explain, but your voice refused to rise over the commotion, accusations, and judgment. "N-no, they didn't. I mean, I wasn't trying to-to…"

"You realize how sick this is, right?" Another kid demanded, closer to you this time. "Like, seriously. Judgy much?"

"No, it's not like that," You insisted. It felt like your whole world had been tossed upside down. "I-I just-" You stammered, hapless. For once, it was the people around you who couldn't seem to hear.

"What a creep," Muttered someone else as they passed close enough for your hearing aids to register. Was that what everyone thought of you?

"No! Y-you don't understand! I-I didn't mean it like that. I-" Your heart sank. Shame overwhelmed you and you buried your face in your hands, sliding down the wall to the floor.

Your heart felt like a voodoo doll, impaled with all sorts of pins. You'd never felt impressed to explain yourself to anyone. You had never cared what anyone else thought of you. But when you had imagined all the ways your life might fall apart, this wasn't one of the ways you had envisioned. That drawing and the dozens of others like it - they were yours.

You wished you'd never made them in the first place.

Shaking your head, you switched off your hearing aids and hugged your arms around yourself, perfectly content to stew in your own misery. A dull roar met your ears as students passed by. None stopped to address you. A few of them tossed crumpled-up photocopies of your sketch at your head but you ignored them.

Then a hand settled itself on your knee.

Startled, you peeked between your fingers, expecting someone like the assistant principal or guidance counselor to be kneeling in front of you. Instead, you were met with the concerned countenance of none other than Kol Mikaelson.

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes.

He proffered a gentle smile and said something, but his words were lost to the prattling hum that encompassed your world without hearing aids. You preferred it this way. It was your natural state. You saw instead of listened, it was what made you such a good artist. Or so you'd thought.

You shook your head at him weakly, pointing to your ears, and mouthed, "I can't hear you."

Why was he here? Was he just going to tease you as he had a few weeks ago on the football stands?

Kol nodded. "I know," He signed. His movements were small and lax - nonthreatening.

Unsure how to interpret his sudden kindness and understanding, you shifted to sit up a little straighter, eyeing him. Kol's lips pressed into a thin line that tried to look like a smile. Without warning, he removed the textbooks resting in your lap and stood.

"Let's get you out of here, yeah?" He sighed, offering you his hand. Hesitantly, you reached out and took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You stiffened as the boy let go of your hand and instead wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you swiftly against his side, shielding you from the view of others in the hallway as he hastily but gently herded you down crowded hallways and out the heavy steel front doors.

Just outside the school, there were picnic tables set up where students could sit to study or eat lunch. Those were deserted by now as first period was speedily approaching. Kol guided you to one of them and dropped your books on the table, gesturing for you to sit. You weren't overly fond of being told what to do, but you figured this was probably Kol's best effort to be nice so you obliged. He sat down in front of you and cupped your jaw in his hand. With his brows furrowed and expression drawn the boy seemed to be inspecting your face, though for what you couldn't be sure.

Absently, you noticed that his hands were very warm despite the changing season. (Why that thought made your stomach queasy was a question for another time.)

Kol's thumb brushed over your cheek and you wanted to look away to hide the flare of heat that consumed your cheeks, but he wouldn't let you.

"Well, you're not panicking," He observed after what felt like an eternity. "That's good."

His words were muffled without your hearing aids but now, away from the commotion of the bustling hallways, you could understand him well enough.

You gave a small nod and, refusing to meet his eyes, focused instead on the grass beneath your feet.

"I'm fine," You whispered. Your voice was a little hoarse but he didn't know you well enough to recognize that.

"Are you sure?"

The question was inevitable, yet you found yourself scowling anyway.

Of course you were fine. You were always fine.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't want his pity, that you weren't some distressing damsel and that he needed to mind his own business. You weren't some charity case he could use to prove to all the senior girls that he could be a sensitive boyfriend. (You'd been there once. You weren't going through it again.) But, as always, the boldness in your head could never seem to leave your lips.

"It's not your responsibility to take care of me," You told him instead. In your lap, your hands fiddled and tugged on the too-long sleeves of your sweater. You'd gotten chalk on your jeans again.

He let his hand drop and the swirling autumn winds cooled your cheeks. You sort of missed the warmth.

"I know that." Kol's concern morphed into a smirk. This was it. You prepared for the incoming ridicule. It never came. "You don't like anyone getting close, do you?" He guessed, casually leaning back as though he already knew the answer. (And respected it.) "Makes you uncomfortable, I'd imagine."

You shrugged and picked at the loose threads on your sleeve. Honestly, he was right - you were just a bucket of trust issues in a Technicolor wrapper. But was that any of his business? No.

"Why are you here?" You wondered in lieu of an answer.

Kol raised a brow. "Apologies, darling. I was unaware that it's illegal for a bloke to be a good friend 'this side of the pond."

"It's not illegal," You said. Your eyes narrowed. "But we're not friends."

You'd made a handful of friends since moving to this town. None of them had come to your aid. Then again, none of them knew about your sketchbook.

Kol smirked. "Consider this an application then!" He surmised, eyes glinting. Those unnerving tar pits seemed a little less dead today than they had before. What changed? He chuckled, amused at your loss for words, and continued. "Besides, I get the feeling I'm just about the only one who knows that sketchbook of yours was stolen from you. The only thing I want to know is, what made you draw that picture?"

Maybe… if you told him the truth about the sketches, he wouldn't look any closer.

"I don't like Stefan Salvatore," Came your quiet answer.

That didn't seem to be what he was expecting, but he didn't look disappointed. Kol's lips twitched and he wet his lips in a way that betrayed a certain excitement.

"Go on."

You took a breath.

"He and I were the only two new kids last year," You began. If you said this, you were going to sound like a lunatic, that was why you'd always opted to draw it out instead. "Strange things happen in this town, and they happen around him. No town has as many "animal attacks" as this one and those only started when he showed up. People started going missing. Some were found dead. Mr. Saltzman is our history teacher because the guy before him got ripped up right over there in the parking lot just before Stefan's first game as part of team. The police said it was a mountain lion, but I was there; I saw the body and there were no scratches. Then there's the way some of his friends a-and Mr. Saltzman look at him sometimes - I've seen them do it - like he's about to murder everyone in the room and they don't know how to stop him."

Kol stared at you. His expression had grown increasingly weary the longer you kept on rambling. When you finally closed your mouth, he nodded slowly, brows furrowed. You bit your lip, awaiting his response.

"That is…" He trailed off. To your great surprise, however, he nodded as if he actually believed you. "Deeply disturbing, darling." Kol's eyes narrowed and he leaned in closer. "You say you saw your teacher's corpse?" He asked.

You nodded. "The "bite" on his neck looked a lot more like buck-shot to me."

His eyes widened. "You think someone killed him?" He hissed.

"And the police covered it up."

"So why draw the football team?"

You hugged your arms around yourself. "Because Matt Donovan is in on it. It's him, Tyler Lockwood, and Stefan Salvatore - they've been acting so weird. Two months ago, Tyler and Stefan started acting really mean all of a sudden and the rest of the football team just started acting like zombies, doing anything they said. It was really freaky."

"And you drew it so you wouldn't have to be afraid." Kol nodded, smiling softly. "Put all the horrors in a little book and out of your head."

This kid had you dead to rights.

You tugged on the sleeves of your sweater. "I never meant to hurt anyone," You sighed.

"I know," He said. "For the record, I quite liked your little interpretation."

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"I'm not sure yet," The dark-haired boy admitted with a shrug. "Honestly, I've never known another town to have as many functions as this one."

"Right?!" You exclaimed. Finally, someone else saw it! "Smells like organized crime to me…"

"Or cult activity."

"Or that."

"Or maybe you're just a little paranoid," Kol surmised. "But if that's the case, then who am I to judge?"

For the first time in a while, your shoulders shook with a genuine laugh.

"Thanks Kol."

"Anytime, love."

And that boy lived up to his word. Over the span of the next several weeks, more of your sketches were spread about the school. It wasn't long before your so-called friends had all cut contact. Kol became the only person in town willing to talk to you. Every time a drawing was leaked, no matter how dark, twisted, or gruesome the image, Kol was always there to comfort you and compliment your art style.

Each drawing that circulated the school was more damaging to your reputation than the last. Anyone you thought was in on the secret of Mystic Falls' suspicious deaths, you turned into a monster in the pages of your sketchbook.

Jeremy Gilbert became a tortured Voodoo doll.

("Well, there's an odd comparison," Kol commented idly, inspecting the array of pages that had overtaken your locker. "I quite like it."

A student shoved past you on their way to class, ramming painfully into your shoulder. You winced, aware that the action was purposeful, but you didn't say anything. Kol, however, glared at the kid - a cold, chilling sort of glare.

You shrugged, readjusting your backpack.

"He just always seems so pained lately. 'Looks at everyone like they're gonna kill 'em.")

Elena, his sister, you portrayed as a prim, psychotic puppet master.

("I'm sorry, but have I done something to you?" The popular and gorgeous former cheerleader asked when she confronted you about the sketch she clutched in her hand. Seniors Stefan Salvatore and Matt Donovan stood with their arms crossed, flanking her on both sides. The sight only served to reinforce the role your imagination had given her - the girl wore her ex's around her like accessories. They were always there to cover for her strange behavior.

"N-no, it's not like that. I-I-I swear!" You stammered, eyes flicking between her broad-shouldered bodyguards. You swallowed thickly.

"Look, Y/N," Elena sighed. "I'm not mad at you, but whatever is going on in your life, you can't take it out on me. Or anyone else."

"That's not what I'm doing," You mumbled, shuffling your feet. She didn't seem to hear you.

"You know, if there's something bothering you, then you need to tell someone about it," Elena said. You were only a few months younger than her, yet she talked down to you as though you were a toddler. You wished the anger that flared and frothed inside you, didn't look like shame as it stained your cheeks. "I know we're not close, but you can always tell me if something's happening, okay?"

"No thank you, I'm fine."

"Y/N, it's okay to let someone in." The girl pressed.

You gritted your teeth, wishing she would just go. "I-"

"Pretty sure she doesn't have to tell you anything, sweetheart," A melodiously snide voice hummed from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you shot Kol a relieved smile. He dropped a quick wink in return before focusing on his fellow seniors. Elena and her posse seemed to tense up around him for some reason.

"What's it to you, Kol?" Stefan demanded.

"Oh, I dunno. Basic human decency? Nothing much," He replied. The dark-haired senior shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked, smug as a bug.

"How 'bout you mind your own damn business for a change," Matt snapped. He almost made a move toward your friend but Elena stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Kol snorted at their reactions. "Why so defensive? 'Weren't expecting this lovely young lady to have some back-up?" He slung an arm around your shoulder and began twisting a lock of your hair around and around his finger. You sort of liked him tugging on it the way he did.

"We were just a little concerned," Elena claimed.

"Right." Kol smiled thinly. Releasing his fingers from your hair, he took a threatening step forward. You hadn't realized before just how tall that boy was. "Well, as Y/N said, she doesn't need your concern. So why don't you run along and take your puppets with you."

The three seniors reluctantly surrendered under the force of Kol's steely glare and you watched them go, hugging your arms around yourself and shivering. Kol turned back to you. His hands found their way to your shoulders and he stopped down a little to look you in the eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked. His eyes were still dark, but not the pits of tar they'd been before. They were more like soft dirt now, holding the promise of future life.

Kol gently smoothed his hands over your arms, spreading a gooey, molten warmth everywhere his skin touched. There was something bubbly in your lungs and the shudder that ran down your spine this time wasn't from nerves.

You took a breath and tried to ignore how his touch made you want to melt.

"I'm fine," You lied. You were fine. You were always fine.

The boy smiled as though he didn't quite believe you. "That's good." He tilted his head in the direction Elena and the others had disappeared to. "You were right about them, though. There's definitely something strange going on there."

You nodded. "Thanks."

"Of course, darling.")

Bonnie Bennett, by the grace of your overactive imagination, had been transformed into a wicked witch. Ancient runes glowed in the air, surrounding her dark ritual. Oddly enough, the thief had changed a few of them, though you weren't sure why.

("If I might ask, why a witch for that one?" Kol asked as the girl herself scowled venomously at you from the other side of the gym.

He sat with his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, leaning in close so you would hear him though he spoke softly, having stayed a little longer after school to help you with your chemistry homework now that no one else would. You could smell cinnamon and something tangy on his breath as his lips brushed over your ear and you tried not to shiver. The whole school probably thought you were a couple, but you knew that wasn't the case.

"There's some weird looking stuff in that girl's locker," You whispered back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of the daggers she was glaring at your head. If you didn't know better, you would have sworn the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees. "At the fundraiser we had last year, there was this car that just caught fire outta nowhere. The thing wasn't even running and it just exploded. Everybody was freaking out and running but Bonnie just stood there, staring at it like she was possessed."

Kol glanced up at the Bennett girl again. "You know what?" He decided, tilting his head. "I can see it." He sent Bonnie a little wave and turned back to your homework. "I loved the runes you included in that drawing, though," The boy added.

"Yeah?" You couldn't help but smile.

"Absolutely. Most of them were even correct," He shot you a crooked grin. "It was impressive."

You raised a brow. "Can you… read Runic?"

"Mmhm," He hummed, checking off another problem on your homework. "Remind me and I'll teach you sometime."

You were about to ask where and when he would have learned something like that, but the question was plucked from your brain before you got the chance.

You drew in a sharp breath as his hand, which had previously rested like a ghost's on your hip, slipped deftly under your shirt. Unsure whether you liked it or not, you couldn't decide as your brain had simply quit functioning properly. All you could seem to register was that Kol was touching you and it wasn't a "just friends" sort of touch. Your cheeks felt like they'd caught fire as you glanced up at him, blinking owlishly, only to find that he was already watching you with an unexpectedly sweet smile. He studied your expression, waiting for you to protest - to say no.

When you remained silent, that sweet smile twisted into a smirk. Leaning down, you felt a soft, tender kiss to your cheek just as Kol pressed his fingers firmly into your skin, wasting no time before he began to explore. His hand was warm, gentle, and soft as he stroked and petted your stomach. Something warm and jittery built up in your chest. It climbed up your throat, threatening to spill out. You whimpered quietly, unable to hold it back. Yet, that only seemed to encourage him. Kol hummed and slid his hand lower with another kiss to your cheek. What was that boy doing to you? Your whole body burned as he continued to fondle and caress you shamelessly. Shuddering, you bit back a moan and curled yourself closer to him, fisting his jacket as though he could hide you from the world. Kol just smirked and continued going over your homework.

He didn't let go of you - didn't stop touching you - until the bell rang. Then he just got up, shot you a wink, and left without another word.)

Slowly, that boy earned your trust because, though you didn't know exactly how to define your relationship with him, he was always there for you. It was nice to have someone who knew why you had drawn those pictures. Not because you were self-righteous and judgemental, but because there was something very real and very disturbing going on and you needed a way to purge the constant fear from your mind.

Kol believed you. There was something wrong with this town. You weren't crazy.

But no one else could see that.

The day a sketch of Sheriff Forbes - Caroline's mother - made its way around the student body was the day you were called to the principal's office. The picture displayed Sheriff Forbes as a creature like the Other Mother from Coraline, dutifully sewing shut the mouths of townspeople and stitching buttons over their eyes. The Sheriff was a kind woman. She didn't deserve to be depicted that way. But at the same time, you knew she was hiding something.

So there you sat on the wrong side of the principal's desk, eyes locked firmly on your lap as the graying woman watched you with a disappointed frown.

"Y/N, this is not acceptable," She said, tight-lipped with tired eyes.

"I know," You mumbled.

"Then why did you draw these pictures in the first place?" The woman demanded.

You shrugged haplessly. She wouldn't believe you if you told the truth. She'd probably recommend you to a mental health institution.

The principal sighed. "Y/N, it's not my business what you do in your free time, but this has to stop. You need to stop."

"It's not me!" You protested. "Someone stole my sketchbook."

"Well, then you had better find a way to get it back, and once you do I highly recommend you burn it. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to suspend you," She said, folding her hands atop the desk. "The mayor has also been made aware of these sketches and she asked me to warn you that, should another one of these offensive images appear, you can consider her commission canceled."

Your heart stuttered and sank.

You wanted to scream and cry and tell the world it was all so unfair but all that came out of your mouth was, "Okay."

The principal nodded. "Good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N."

That was your cue to leave.

You exited her office and shut the door behind you, letting go of a long sigh. Kol was sitting outside, waiting for you. He was always there for you. Upon seeing your distraught expression, the boy got up and wound his arms around you, holding you close. You clung to him, squeezing your eyes shut and grinding your teeth as you buried your face in his chest.

Kol pressed a feather-light kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you alright?” He asked, just as he always did.

You took a deep breath-

(You were fine. You were always fine.)

-and let out a string of cuss words so foul they’d make a sailor blush.

He hissed in sympathy and hugged you tighter. “I take it that’s a no.”

Kol was a good friend. True, his words sometimes carried a sting to them and some of his touches lingered a little too long to be just friendly. But he was good. The two of you had come a long way since you'd first met him. When he pulled away, he probably should have rested his hands on your waist but Kol grabbed you by your hips instead. His hands were very warm and you found yourself blushing. But if you were being honest, you liked the way he was touching you - the way he had been for a while now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, hesitantly watching your face though you refused to meet his eyes.

"No," You answered.

Kol offered you a strained smile and tugged you back into that tight hug. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He said, gently.

Kol had been such a good friend to you. The least you could do was show him some trust.

"I'd rather show you."

***

Her hand slid down his arm to his hand which Kol reluctantly lifted off her hip. Then, without another word - because she didn’t talk all that much - she led him off down the hallway. He allowed her to pull him along, amused (and two other things he was trying really hard to ignore.)

There was this funny feeling he got when he looked at that girl sometimes, with her chalk and paint-stained clothes, messy hair, and tired eyes. It was warm and pleasant and it reminded him of how he felt after a really big feed, except not like that at all. He felt satisfied, content… full, but there was nothing sinister about it. Kol found himself unsure how to label that sensation seeing has he’d so rarely felt it and when he had it was fleeting - gone before he could enjoy it.

This time, however, when it came, that feeling lingered.

And not because he’d killed anyone recently! Kol Mikaelson had not rubbed out a single soul in that miserable little town. (A surprise to all, certainly.) That odd feeling stayed with him day to day, and he tried to ignore how pleasant it was because surly it would disappear any day now… But it never did. Kol knew it had something to do with his little artist but, honestly, that just confused him further. More baffling still was the notion that, over the past few weeks, he hadn’t found himself craving the high that exacting death always afforded him. Sure, he felt a little… hungry (that didn’t seem like the right term) on the weekends, but then he’d see her in the hallways and he felt content again. It wasn’t the sort of satisfaction he took from any of his games either.

That’s what this whole thing had started as - what it was. (Just that he had to remind himself of that fact was unsettling.) It was just a game. He’d played it hundreds of times before with hundreds of girls like her. It was the game where he came into their lives from out of the blue, stripped away every single thing they cared about - robbed them of their friends, their reputation, their comforts, their dreams - and did that all while making them love him for it. Then, once he got them into his bed, he shattered their illusions right before he killed them.

He was so close to winning this one too. Her friends had all abandoned her, half the town was convinced she was schizophrenic, and her dreams were one little sketchbook page away from being crushed. There was just one problem.

This time, he didn’t want the game to end.

This time, he felt an uncomfortable stabbing sensation in his chest (not unlike the point of a dagger) every time she flinched. Every time she switched off her hearing aids, every time she hugged herself and sighed, every time she pursed her lips on the verge of tears - Kol felt something he hadn’t felt in well over nine hundred years. Guilt. Because he was the one spreading that girl’s naughty little pictures through the halls just so she would want him around.

Kol simply didn’t understand what made her different. She was human. She wasn’t strong or powerful or even witty. The girl was shy, she hardly said a word to anyone but him, and when some kid shouted abuse in her face she just stood there and took it. She was so plain and boring that Kol often found himself wondering why he hadn’t eaten her yet.

Sometimes though, she surprised him.

She surprised him when she shoved her way though the front doors in the middle of the school day. Previously, Kol was convinced that girl had never broken a rule in her life.

She surprised him when she cussed like a sailor and didn’t apologize one bit. Was a girl like that even allowed to say those words? Legally?

But most of all, she surprised him when she tugged him along by the hand in the drizzling rain through the backwoods of Virginia, off the hiking trails, and down into a ravine where she only stopped in front of a looming chain-link fence. That fence had a big, red “No Trespassing” sign attached to it.

She suprised him when she was always fine. That girl accepted his hugs, his touch, his comfort - but she didn’t need it.

Thus, Kol was well and truly floored when his tiny sweet, delicious little artist dropped his hand and scrambled up and over that fence like a monkey scales a tree. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She had absolutely, positively, and without a doubt just broken a law. That couldn’t be right. She was too shy to break the law. This was the same girl that apologized when she broke her bloody pencil.

"You coming or not?" She challenged. And then... Then, she smiled.

The sight of it took Kol's breath away.

That smile. He didn't understand it. Y/N was no witch - he knew that for certain. But somehow there was something magical about that smile.

There were moments - only a handful of them - like the one he was in right then. Those times were so rare but when they occurred, Kol's tiny, sweet, piquant little artist would look back at him, usually over her shoulder, and send him this... this smile. The twist of her lips he'd seen her wear when he'd first met her, the one she passed out to her so-called friends, was a fake he came to realize.

This real one was so much prettier.

Words had so rarely failed him, but there was no language Kol knew that could quite describe just what that smile looked like - what it made him feel or why. That smile of her's was just so real - so deeply heartfelt - that it always made him want to smile back. Her's was never never a silly or obnoxious grin that she gave to him. It was this tiny quirk of her lips that made her eyes sparkle and her cheeks glow a subtle, appetizing pink. Her beauty wasn't like that of the models in those magazines Bekah liked - she wasn't spectacularly eye-catching. That girl's smile didn't light up a room, but it lit a fire in his chest the likes of which he'd never known. It twisted his stomach and Kol felt so hungry every time he got to witness that smile. Except that hunger wasn't the sinister kind he was so familiar with. When she smiled at him, he didn't want to hurt that girl.

He just wanted to pin her against a tree and kiss those beautifully curled lips until the taste of his extraordinary artist was seared into his infallible mind for all eternity.

It wasn't just lust either. It was more than that. Kol didn't want her just because she had a pretty smile. He needed her because that smile only appeared for him - no one else. Kol could make that girl smile and it had nothing to do with his physical appearance. His little artist's smile was reserved just for him simply because he was there to see it. She smiled because he existed and that idea was one he couldn't help but revel in. After all, when was the last time he got something all to himself without having to fight tooth and nail for it?

“Say, love, are we getting close to the bridge?” He wondered. It was the bridge or the falls, but he couldn’t be sure. Y/N didn’t reply. Her lovely, perfect, scrumptious little laugh was all he got in response. After a few more minutes of walking in silence - which he found he liked better than all the other girls he’d ever played with who always felt a need to fill the gap with meaningless prattle - they reached their destination.

So, Kol grinned. That was his real smile too. Only she could bring it out. "Of couse, darling."

He jumped and scaled the fence with the same ease as his quiet companion who took off again as soon as his feet hit the ground. It wasn't long before his enhanced hearing caught the sound of water rushing nearby.

Once free of the tree line, Kol glimpsed the dreary silhouette of Wickery Bridge breaking through the haze of rain and gloom. His little artist glanced back at him with something wild and ferocious gleaming in her eyes. For a moment, he was taken aback by the sight. But that moment was swiftly overtaken by sheer, lucidious excitement. He returned her smile and she bounded off down toward the water. He followed, enraptured and curious as she came to a stop underneath the bridge.

“Alright, my sweet, I think I’ve let you go on long enough,” He said upon catching up with her, not that doing so was any struggle. “What’s so important that you brought me all the way out here?”

The girl didn’t say anything. Instead, she began climbing up the mess of rocks and driftwood that had collected on the banks of the river, making her way up to the crevice where the bridge split from the shoreline. As she did, her hand slipped on one of the rocks and she spat out another string of cuss words that would peel the scales off a snake. Normally, Kol would have been impressed; however, he was a little too busy focusing on the minuscule part of him that didn’t want to rip out her throat.

She’d cut her hand on those rocks and it wasn’t just a little scrape, like the ones he’d grown accustomed to. This was a long, jagged slit across her palm and her all-too-tempting blood was spilling down her arm in beautiful crimson rivers.

And terrible, awful, horrid reality came crashing back in on him.

For a while there, Kol had almost forgotten the two of them weren’t the same. Somehow he’d felt full enough - full of something, full of her - for long enough that he’d forgotten he wasn’t who and what he was pretending to be. He’d forgotten about what he was doing and why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing with her. He’d forgotten that he was the predator and she was the prey.

He was there solely to charm her into surrendering her blood and her body. That was it.

THAT. WAS. IT.

Kol hurt people. That was what he did. He screwed up, and he hurt people, and he laughed about it.

So why did the thought of sinking his teeth into that artist’s pretty little neck seem to tear his lungs to shreds? No - not his lungs - that thing between them. That thing he ignored. That thing he didn’t have. Most people call it a heart.

What was that about? Kol was a monster. He hadn’t felt anything in years, aside from rage, hunger, and the occasional apathy. One thousand years of never giving a damn about the value of human life. And now what? His heart suddenly decided to garner affection for one lonely, miserable, pathetic, perfect, baffling, innocent, gorgeous, plush, soft, disillusioned little artist? Now?

Why now? Why her?

(It had been so long. And he’d had no one.)

She was the only one who ever smiled just for him. The only one who ever trusted him enough to let him see how terrified she truly was. She was scared, so scared all the time that something would spring from the shadows that lurked around every corner to snuff out her soul. She should be, he knew. She was right to be scared. Because Kol was right next to her and he was the only person not in her sketchbook. Sure, she’d never had the chance to put him in there but he’d asked her once what he would look like if she were to draw him like she did everyone else, and his tantalizing little artist had told him she didn’t see Kol that way - that he was her friend. She didn’t know it, and he didn’t want her to know it, but she should be scared of him.

Kol wanted to kill her - needed to kill her. He craved so desperately to ravish that appetizing girl right where they stood. Bloody hell, she should be terrified!

Yet, he didn’t want to scare her - didn’t mean to. He was just hungry - that was all. No one was around. No one could stop him. She didn’t need to be afraid. He could make her feel good. She might like it. Kol was just hungry - he didn’t want to hurt her. One taste wouldn’t hurt her so bad, would it? She would forgive him. One bite would be enough and then he’d stop. Except he wouldn’t and Kol knew that. He would drain every last drop of scarlet from her body and he knew she would be the most exhilarating high he’d ever get. But he didn’t have to feel bad about it. He could dump her body in the river and he’d never see her again.

Oh.

That was it.

He’d never see her again.

No. No, he wanted to see her smile again. Wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to listen to all of her secrets and wanted that girl to let him touch her for real. No. No, no, no, nonononononononononono.

And all this ran through his head before his artist had even finished cussing.

Y/N waved her hand in the air, displaying her cut. “God hates me!” She called down to him cheerfully. That sunny demeanor that had once annoyed him so now brought him a laugh.

“That’s on you, darling. Perhaps if you were to tell me what it is that you’re trying to achieve, I might be able to assist,” He pointed out, still chuckling to himself. The girl shrugged and reached into the crevice, feeling around for something. “If you get bit by a snake, I’m going to laugh,” Kol mused. She twisted her other hand around and flipped him the bird. After another moment of watching her grope around in a dark hole, his little artist let out an exclamation of success and retrieved her arm which was now attached to a large, black duffle bag. Carefully, she climbed down and tossed the bag on the ground.

“Ta da!” She grinned at him. It was an odd expression - like her face didn’t quite know how to express her current joy to another being.

Kol raised a brow. “Wow,” He deadpanned. “Color me impressed.”

Her smile didn’t falter.

“The council just finished renovating this bridge,” She said as though that explained everything.

“And?”

Instead of answering, she simply bent down and unzipped the bag at her feet. Meanwhile, ever the gentleman, Kol forced himself to turn away from admiring the exquisite view of her cleavage this action presented him. He wanted her, yes. Kol delighted in reducing his little artist into a blushing puddle when he touched her. But if he was going to have that girl, he was going to have her everything. Her smile, her heart, her mind, her body, and her respect. Everything. Not just empty lust.

From out of the bag, Y/N drew a pair of gloves, a mask, and two cans of what Kol now recognized to be spray paint. Then, donning the gloves and mask, she marched down to the concrete trusses of Wickery Bridge and got to work. The giant concrete slabs were practically one perfectly untouched canvas for her to exploit.

Suddenly, all those strange behaviors made a whole lot of sense.

“Bloody hell, the girl’s a vandal!” Kol barked a laugh. "I wondered what it was you were so desperate to keep me away from,” He said, shaking his head. “I had my suspicions but this… was not one of them.”

“Oh really,” His artist scoffed. She started out her mural with layers of red. “And what were those suspicions?”

“Abusive parents was number one,” He listed, stretching out casually on the ground, back against a rock. Not the most uncomfortable position he’d ever held. “Self-harm was number two, and number three was a sordid drug habit.”

“Do I really come off that pathetic?” She wondered blithely.

“Most of the time, yeah.”

The girl snorted. “Good for me!”

“That desperate to hide your little crimes, are you?” He chuckled.

“Yep!”

“Why?”

“Well, mostly-” She paused to switch colors, going with black now. “-because if Mayor Lockwood ever found out I was the one painting her little town red, I’d lose my commission to paint town square and uh… I like money.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I sense an “and” coming.”

“And,” She continued with a slight laugh. “I might have possibly tagged a few properties worth a lot more than a bridge.” She hesitated. “Or a town… or a castle.”

That last remark was enough to have Kol sitting up straight. “So you were the miscreant who wrote out “Blood Money” on the side of my house!” He exclaimed, wide-eyed. It was impressive as no one in his family had heard anyone approach the house that night, yet the message had been there in bright red the next morning. How had she pulled that off?

The girl froze in her painting. “That was your house?”

“Indeed it was.”

“Whoops.”

Kol waved a hand. “Eh. No harm done.”

“So… not a mafia base then?”

He wished she was wrong. Kol really wished he wasn’t everything that terrified his precious artist. But he was. And that wouldn’t change.

So he laughed.

“Well, if I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” He joked. Except it wasn’t a joke. But he could let her think it was. He could pretend he believed that too. He could pretend he was just a normal kid, enjoying the company of a beautiful girl. He could pretend that.

She threw her head back and laughed.

What a beautiful thing.

“Okay! I’m done talking now!” She announced without providing any segue whatsoever. He liked that about her though, that she was blunt and direct. It amused him.

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” He protested. He wasn’t all that broken up about it. Just being around that girl was enough to sate his hunger for her. That's what his little game had turned into.

She shrugged and flipped her hearing aids off, so he supposed that was the end of it.

“You know, I’m actually a vampire,” He told her. Kol knew she couldn’t hear him and his words fell on deaf ears. He figured he should tell her the truth though. Even if it was only this once. At least then he could say he had.

“I’ve murdered hundreds of thousands of people - plenty of them for no reason at all. As for you…

“Well, I’ll probably kill you one day. Hell, I almost did just now. I’m not all that great at self-control, you see.” He let go of a bitter laugh and scooped a pebble off the ground, laying back he tossed it over his head and caught it again and again. “But I’m really great at screwing things up!”

“I stole your sketchbook,” He admitted, a little quieter. “It was just supposed to be a bit of fun, but it’s not fun anymore. I-I don’t like to see you hurting. I could stop. That bloody school would never see another picture.”

He lifted his head, watching her back as she continued painting.

“But would you still love me if I did?” Kol sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t think you would. You don’t need me.”

This time, when he tossed the rock, he didn’t catch it. The stone flew and landed in the river, lost to the moving water.

“Nobody does.”

He was glad she couldn’t hear him. He could talk to her and she would never know. Blissfully ignorant, he could watch with a lazy smile as she swung her hips and just kept on painting, without a care in the world. His horribly lovely artist sang quietly to herself as the light of the setting sun bounded off the water and carded through her hair, casting an ephemeral glow all around her. He wondered if her quiet verse might be meant for him. He knew that wasn’t the case. For someone so observant and suspicious, she could be quite blind. He doubted she could be in love with him or that she understood how he felt for her. But like with the rest of this bittersweet scene, Kol could pretend.

“Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows

Everything that's wonderful is what I feel when we're together

Brighter than a lucky penny

When you're near the rain goes, disappears, dear

And I feel so fine

Just to know that you are mine…”

***

Robert Frost had been right, you decided the day your world fell apart. You would have preferred your world had been destroyed in one giant, raging fire. Of course, you didn't get to choose. Your world froze over slowly. The cold strangled your opportunities and relationships one by one until you were left entirely alone.

You stood in front of your locker that day, staring at the final nail in the coffin of your reputation and future. This was how it was to end. In ice. You felt like ice as you stared at that final drawing - cold and despondent.

That sketch was of Alaric Saltzman, your kindhearted history teacher who believed in infinite chances for a student's grades. He always wore a pained smile - it was a smile for everyone else because he was still hurting but wanted the kids he taught to look forward to the rest of their lives as he no longer did.

You had drawn him differently.

No smile. Just the pain. Pain that had morphed into bitterness and bitterness into hate. He was sitting in his desk chair, facing towards the door - toward the viewer - with a bottle of bourbon in one hand, and a gun in the other. Smoke rose from the barrel of that gun, and the viewer's perception was tinted red.

You had drawn your history teacher murdering you in cold blood.

Who does that?

"So…" The silky lilt of Kol's gentle accent tugged you from your thoughts and brought just a little relief. Even if you had nothing, you had Kol. "Do I want to know what inspired this one? Or would I rather sleep tonight?"

You shrugged, apathetic. The weight of the moment yet to sink in.

"I saw a gun in his desk," You answered tonelessly.

"No shit?"

"Uh, huh." You nodded. "Right next to the colored pencils."

The boy whistled. "I'm regretting some of the things I put in my essay now," He said.

A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "As if you did it."

"Ouch, darling. That hurts." He chuckled lightly and you felt his arms encircle your waist from behind. He tugged you close, resting his head on your shoulder. "You don't know everything about me."

He was trying to joke, for your sake. But nothing could make this better.

"What do I do now?" You asked with a sigh. Kol pressed a kiss to your cheek - light as a feather. For whatever reason, it felt like an apology.

"Well, if I were you," He said. "I'd go out with a bang."

You nodded and shrugged - indifferent. "A bang sounds good."

Kol released you as you slipped your backpack off your shoulders. Eyeing you with a mix of confusion and anticipation, your best friend's eyes flew wide as he watched you wander over to the nearest window, arms reeling back.

With all your might, you flung your back through the window.

It shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The raucous hallway fell silent and a few dozen pairs of eyes locked on you.

"One of you bastards stole my sketchbook," You told them, not bothering to raise your voice in the slightest. "Is that what you wanted? To see me fall apart?"

No one answered of course as you glanced between stunned expressions.

"Well, I hope you're happy now," You rasped. Shoving a few kids out of your way with the harshness that had been building inside you for months now, you left that school behind you and didn't look back.

The only sound to be heard was Kol's low whistle as the heavy steel doors swung shut. The tears streaming down your face were silent.

You sprinted home through the driving rain, the sky dark and close, almost like a blanket. Perhaps the whole world was crying with you. After all, it always seemed to rain when you were sad.

To your relief, your parents were still at work. You had the comfort of crying in peace. Slamming the door shut, you pressed your back against it, slid to the floor… and screamed.

This was your life and it was crumbling in your hands. What else were you supposed to do?

A light knock tapped against the door. So quiet you wouldn't have heard it if the vibrations weren't centered right next to your ear.

"Y/N?" Kol's voice called from the other side of the wood. You didn't say anything, though your ragged breathing was far from quiet. "Y/N, I know you're in there. I can hear you crying." He laid his hand flat. You could hear that ring he always wore scraping against the wooden surface. "Please let me in?"

You shook your head. "I'm not some charity case," You choked out, throat raw.

"Perhaps to someone else you are," Kol said. He must have been kneeling on your front porch. "But not me. I don't have charity, darling. I'm rather selfish actually."

You huffed a laugh. It was humorless.

"Then why come?"

"Because I'm selfish," He replied. Then quieter. "I don't like to see you cry." His ring tapped against the door a few times. "Darling, please let me in? I want to help."

Your teeth clenched like a vice.

"I don't need you."

For years you'd longed to say those words. Finally, in this haze of fury and anguish, they weren't so hard to speak.

"I know." He sighed. "I know you don't, darling. It's part of why I like you so much."

Well as long as he understood, perhaps it was alright

You scraped yourself off the floor and opened the door. Kol stood outside, drenched to the bone, same as you. His eyes weren't dead anymore - not the distant black holes they'd once been. No, his eyes were warm chocolate now, melting with something sad. He really did care.

"Come in," You signed, too worn out to speak.

Kol's brows furrowed. He seemed worried for a moment, though you couldn't guess why. Then he took a tentative step through the door, smiled, and stepped closer, closing the door behind him.

You watched him take his shoes and coat off through the dim light. Your house was dark. You hadn't bothered with any lights. Once he'd finished, Kol glanced up at you questioningly. You regarded him for a moment. After all, these sorts of situations never seemed to turn out well in the books you'd read and the shows you'd watched. The characters in those stories always seemed to end up doing something they'd regret.

Or maybe they didn't regret it.

You thought you would though.

So, contrary to what Kol was likely expecting, you didn't throw yourself into his arms. You just turned and shuffled into the kitchen. You finally switched on some lights. After a moment, he followed you, watching intently. Milling about in science, you collected the supplies required to make the two of you a cup of tea. Your quiet nature combined with your parent's distrust of humanity meant you'd never really had a friend like Kol before - someone you brought to your house and shared food with.

"You hungry?" You asked, waiting for the water to boil. Your hands shook a little, but you didn't feel like speaking. He leaned against the counter opposite you and offered a thin smile you felt you didn't quite understand.

"I'll be okay," He signed back after a moment. He took a deep breath. "I'm more worried about you."

You grimaced involuntarily, eyes shifting to the kettle on the stove. Inside, the pressure would be building until it all rushed out.

"I'm not broken, Kol," You whispered, voice hoarse and thick with more emotion than you'd ever known how to say.

"I know that-" He began, lifting his hands defensively.

"Then why do you look at me like I am?"

Kol's lips pressed into a thin line, nodding. You'd caught onto his ways a long time ago. That boy had been eyeing you like no one you'd ever known since you'd first met him. The only difference was now you were brave enough to call him out on it. So what if he saw you for who you really were? He'd seen enough of it by now. You were sick of hiding anyway.

Kol sighed and pushed off the counter. He made his way toward you with soft eyes and tentative steps until he stood just inches away, boxing you in. You met his dark chocolate eyes and refused to back down even though you knew your cheeks were stained pink. You'd never let anyone this close before.

Pursing his lips, the boy glanced down at the space between you and lifted his hand. He trailed his knuckles hesitantly over your side, then met your eyes again as if to ask permission. You swallowed thickly, but didn't tell him no. With a ghost of a smile, Kol laid his hands on your hips and squeezed firmly. You couldn’t withhold a shudder. His thumbs slipped under your shirt and rubbed your skin softly as he'd done for you a few times before, knowing how much you liked it. His hands seemed to fit perfectly over your hips as though he'd been made to hold you.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you relaxed into his touch, letting go of a sigh. His searing hands felt nice when the whole world felt so cold. You needed him closer.

Reaching up, you fisted the collar of his shirt rather harshly and dragged him toward you, pressing your whole body against his. He flinched slightly, surprised by your newfound eagerness, but he quickly reciprocated. Kol chuckled softly and you felt his lips graze your temple before he clinched your hips tighter and lifted you to sit atop the counter. Your heart stuttered and raced in your chest and you gasped sharply, drawing back enough to catch the smirk dancing on his lips. Your cheeks reddened further as he urged you to spread your legs so he could stand between them. His arms circled around your back and you hesitated.

So what if he was a senior? So what if you were a couple of months younger than he was? He'd been a good friend to you.

Shaking your doubts away, you wrapped your legs around him and rested your head on his chest. Kol hummed quietly and pressed another soft kiss to the crown of your hair.

"I know you're not broken, darling," He said. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging a blazing heat into your bones. "I'm just trying to figure out what it is that you really are."

Your hands on his shirt clenched tighter.

"I'm angry,” You admitted.

“Why?”

His question prompted your lips to twist into a scowl as a hysterical laugh bubbled past your lips.

“Really? You’re asking me why?” You huffed, shaking your head. “How ‘bout why not? I’m sick of it, Kol. All of it. The lies, the expectations - nothing is right in this town and I hate it! I’m seventeen! I should get to feel safe but I see people and they’re dropping like flies. And you’d think I’d at least get the luxury of being terrified, but no! I have to act like nothing is wrong!” You looked up at him, tears returning to sting your eyes. “I tried to. I really did. But it was too much and I couldn’t and I had to put it all somewhere. Now some idiot who thinks they’re funny just up and ruined my whole future. I’ll never get a job here now, not like it matters because mom and dad are shipping me off to some mental institution-”

“What?!” Kol cut your rambling off suddenly. Reeling back, he stared at you with wide eyes. You just shrugged. “Your parents are sending you away over this?” He demanded.

You raised a brow. “Kol, this is kind of a big thing.”

“How?!” He exclaimed. His grip on your hips tightened. He seemed agitated - more than you would expect. “You drew some creepy pictures. So what?! Who cares?!”

“A lot of people care,” You deadpanned. “I drew the likeness of people around me without their consent. That's a big no-no. My parents are worried I’m overstressed, narcissistic, and paranoid. They say I need help.”

“No, that’s not-” He cut himself off this time, teeth grinding. He wouldn’t look at you, just squeezed his eyes shut tight. You waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“They can’t take you away from me.”

Finally, he looked up. Smoldering black eyes met your own with a determination that couldn’t possibly have belonged to an eighteen year old boy. It was etherial - hard to capture and even harder to understand. His eyes seemed darker all of a sudden. An odd trick of the light.

“That’s a nice sentiment,” You said quietly. “But unless you’ve got some hard-core magic up your sleeve, it’s not gonna change anything.”

Kol nodded stiffly. “Magic, eh?” His voice was dry - strained almost. He let go of you and took a step back, bracing his hands on the counter. The breaths he drew were long and deep - shaking. His eyes flicked back to yours, blazing with something needy. He cursed.

“Screw it.”

The boy surged forward and his lips caught yours before you could even blink. His arms wound around you again and held you tight and close. One hand wove itself into your hair, tugging on the strands greedily. You couldn’t seem to focus enough to keep your eyes open, they fluttered closed as Kol pressed closer to you. You weren’t sure what to do or how to react, so you just tentatively kissed him back.

Kol flinched. Actually flinched, like he hadn’t expected his affection to be returned.

He pulled away, chest heaving with ragged, uneven breaths.

Had you done the right thing? Would you regret this tomorrow? Would he?

“Kol, wha-”

His lips on yours shut your doubts up pretty quickly.

“I’m so sorry about all of this,” That boy whispered into your mouth. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m going to fix everything, darling. I promise.”

He left you no time to think. He just pressed you closer - as close as he possibly could and you felt warm. Warm and safe and wanted. His fervent kisses grew increasingly heated and desperate by the second. It was like you were in a haze, possessed almost. There was a sweetness and hunger to him that you were entirely unaccustomed to. Holding the back of your head with a gentle hand, Kol was tender and patient yet determined as he licked at the seam of your mouth. You gasped, flinching as you felt his arm around your waist constrict almost painfully. Seizing the opportunity, Kol swiftly deepened the kiss with a hum of satisfaction. He wasn’t harsh or forceful about it. You just weren’t sure. A tiny whimper escaped your throat but he just swallowed it eagerly. Did you really want this? Were you ready?

You felt suffocated, trapped, and unable to breathe. You pulled back, trembling. But Kol wouldn’t let you go. He broke away, shaking his head.

“No, no. Darling, shhhhhh.” He combed your hair back with his fingers. It was comforting. “You’re alright. I’m not doing anything.”

“Kol, please-”

“No, you’re fine. Everything is going to be alright. Just trust me,” He promised. The boy smiled and settled his lips on yours again. You didn’t fight him. All you could seem to do was shudder as he captured your lower lip and bit down. On his shirt, your hands relaxed. It was almost as if he’d drugged you. Something about that was disturbing, yet you clenched your thighs around him nonetheless.

“See?” Kol flashed you a soft grin as he broke away this time, pressing a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth. “You’re okay, love. This isn’t me hurting you.”

Then what was?

Kol’s hands slid beneath your shirt and they were so warm as he ran them over your waist and higher onto your ribcage. You had half a mind to let him do anything he wanted, but something wasn’t right. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks at terminal velocity.

On the stovetop, the tea kettle screamed a warning.

Magic was your first clue. That and he’d said he’d fix things.

What if he already had?

You stilled. All the warmth in his touch faded in an instant and you let go of him. You didn’t cry out or shove him back. You just quit moving.

Kol’s mouth slowed soon enough. He pulled his hands away and stepped back. The boy eyed you for a moment, but you wouldn’t look at him. Then he cursed.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened.” Throwing his head back, he scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have pushed you. That was a disgusting thing to do. Please forgive me?”

You didn’t. You just drew your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball. The tears came back. Your ribcage shook with your pained breaths.

“Y/N?” His voice was faint and far away. “Y/N, please look at me?”

You hardly heard the words that left his lips. You were too busy processing his greater sin.

The declaration came out as hardly a whisper.

“It was you.”

Kol blinked. Then he frowned.

“Darling… what are you talking about?”

You shook your head. Tears streamed down your face.

“Why?” You seethed. “Why would you do it?!”

He took a step back, seeming hurt. “Sweetheart… I’m sorry but you’re not making any sense.”

You weren’t going to play that game. Wordlessly, you hopped off the counter and strode over to the kitchen doorway. Kol had dropped his backpack there. You tore it open and rummaged around until you found it. A little book covered in black Sharpie.

“How many high school students do you think know Nordic Runes?” You challenged softly.

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Probably quite a few. I suspect it’s a relatively common niche interest.”

You hummed. “Let me rephrase then: How many high school students in Mystic Falls do you think are fluent enough in runic languages to correct it when they see a mistranslation?” You whipped around, displaying your oh-so-precious stolen sketchbook in your hands.

The color drained from Kol’s face.

“Darling… I can explain that,” He tried, voice raw - desperate for you to believe him. You wouldn’t.

You offered him a smile. That same fake, hateful smile you offered to all the people in this town who lied to you.

“Leave.”

Kol looked as though he’d been shot.

“Y/N, please. Just let me explain.”

You shook your head.

“I won’t say it twice,” You spat. Then, switching off your hearing aids, you turned away and started for the stairs. “You know where the door is,” You called over your shoulder, half growling the words. “Don’t let it hit you on the way out… bastard.”

Upstairs in your room, you locked the door and cried. This time you didn’t make a sound.

***

Kol had screwed up. Royally.

In fact, he was convinced that this was even worse than that time he’d accidentally played god on the continent now known as Australia. (Mammals shouldn’t lay eggs and none would if not for his hubris and an escaped lab rat. Or in this case, a lab platypus.) However, this time, Kol couldn’t just run away. Of course, there was mother dearest’s spell to consider but, that wasn’t the only thing keeping him from leaving that girl and her stupid precious tears behind. For whatever reason, he couldn’t stand what he’d done. He knew this for a fact because he’d had all night to think about it.

Her face, sparkling with fresh tears, was an image burned into his memory. Kol couldn’t seem to forget the tremble in her voice as she’d pulled that bloody sketchbook out of his bag. He could still hear her crying on the other side of her bedroom door. No matter how long he’d begged her to let him in, that door had remained locked.

This wasn’t how things were meant to go - not when he’d been so close. He couldn’t stand it.

She’d almost been his. Kol had finally held his sweet little artist in his arms and nothing, nothing - no drug nor blood-induced high he’d ever experienced - could ever compare to finally getting to touch her. He could have had more. He could have won his prize - could have kept her forever.

But he’d screwed up. Now, she loathed him.

He could stand losing a game every now and again. That was what kept things fun. But this wasn’t a game anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. He couldn’t lose. Kol refused to lose.

Luckily, his delicious little artist was very, very human.

He would go to her one more time, he resolved, to try to explain things. Truthfully, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done, but that couldn’t change the facts. Kol needed her. He wouldn’t give her up just because he’d been dumb enough to let her snatch that sketchbook from his satchel. It wasn’t her fault. Had their roles been reversed, he wouldn’t forgive himself either. But luckily, his steel-spined artist was human. Luckily, Kol could erase his little mistake.

Perhaps he could grab a quick bite from her too before he wiped her memory. A little taste might aid his patience for her - he didn’t fancy slipping up again like he had the night before. If he hurt her without realizing what he was doing, Kol knew he would kill his little artist far too soon.

He’d made his decision. The only thing that gave him pause was the wrinkled sheet of paper Bekah found that morning.

“Kol?” Her voice rang through their brother’s mansion carrying confusion and worry. “I think you might want to see this…”

He’d been at her side in a split second, snatching the paper from her hands. It was a drawing, and Kol recognized its style of it instantly. Her lines were intimately familiar to him now, even as harsh and erratic as they were in the sketch he held.

His beloved artist had finally drawn him.

The twisted image was startlingly and horrifically accurate. Something clenched in his chest at the sight. She’d drawn his countenance pale, his hair was a wild mess and his eyes were black, empty holes. A vicious snarl warped his lips, accompanying razor-sharp fangs that looked all too real. In the picture, he knelt in the driving rain, cradling a limp corpse. His lips were coated in thick, crimson blood. Enamored as he was with his nightmarish likeness, Kol’s eyes were drawn to the most lifeless part of the image. He would have recognized those paint-stained clothes anywhere.

Now, Kol had added little notes to the drawings he’d stolen from his sweet artist’s sketchbook. This time, she had included her own.

The harsh, hate-filled words read: “Vampire - a creature that feeds off the misery of others.”

At the bottom of the page, his artist had left him one more note.

“I hope you’re satisfied.”

Rebekah, peering over his shoulder now, whistled lowly.

“That’s not Nik’s work,” She noted.

“No.” His voice came out sharp, clipped. “No, its not.”

“So who’d you piss off this time?”

Kol shrugged and tucked the drawing in his pocket. “No one important,” He lied.

Shortly after that, he arrived beneath the trusses of Wickery Bridge. He knew where that girl would be - knew his artist couldn’t leave a piece unfinished. If she noticed him coming from a far ways off, she gave no inclination. Kol, however, noticed quite a few things. The tremor in her hands as she moved a can of paint back and forth in front of her. A used sleeping bag laid out among the rocks. A banana peel displaying the only proof she’d eaten any sort of meager breakfast. He noticed. He always noticed.

His feet crunched on the gravel as he approached but he doubted the girl heard it - more than likely she had her hearing aids powered off. He could see the appeal in it. After all, it got quite loud in his head sometimes. Turning off the sounds of the world might be nice, but such was not his curse.

Kol wound his arms around her waist from behind and leaned down. Her skin was so smooth and perfect, it was hard to resist simply biting down and taking her all to himself, but instead of piercing her throat he opted to kiss her a few times, gently. He knew how she would react by now. Y/N wouldn’t fight or squirm, she wouldn’t even scream.

She just relaxed.

Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn.

A spitfire when angered, she could be quite impressive; however, when confronted she would always resort to that last option.

He could scent her fresh tears as they slipped down her face, while in his arms her body shuddered, though not quite the way he would prefer. Only one word could seem to manifest through her pain.

"Why?" She didn't say it out loud, just signed it. Kol held her tighter, shrugging.

"Because I'm an attention whore," He answered simply. It was the truth too. "And I don't know when to stop."

He would always need that artist more than she needed him. From the first moment he'd met her, that was how their story had gone.

If it was even possible, that girl melted further into his embrace. Her head rested against his collarbone and she sighed.

"So you think I'm crazy too, huh?" She smiled and it was a miserable thing.

"I never thought you were crazy, love," He admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I just didn't care for a while at first."

"What changed?" She wondered, brows furrowing.

"You smiled at me."

The girl barked a laugh. "Oh, well that's nice." She rolled her eyes.

Kol pulled her closer to him, as though he could make her feel the emotions he couldn't explain. "Don't believe me?"

"Nope." And she never minced words.

"It does sound rather cliche, doesn't it?"

"Ya think?" She scoffed. Her chest still shook with sobs she tried to suppress. He twisted her body around to pull her into a proper hug. Again, she didn't resist. She'd completely given up.

Kol didn't like this hopeless, hysterical version of the strong, dagger-sharp artist he'd come to adore. He'd seen this sort of apathy before and typically it bored him. In her, it only seemed to hurt. It impressed him to hold her close until she finally understood that he was bloody sorry!

"Can you ever forgive me?" Kol found himself asking. Funny, he couldn't seem to remember another time he'd wondered such a thing.

Y/N snorted humorlessly.

"Maybe in a million years," She replied sourly. "Or maybe when the nut-house straightens me out - whichever comes last."

Those words stung like poison. It had been so, so long since he'd made a mistake he couldn't fix with a snap of his fingers. Accountability was a nasty, uncomfortable thing.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded Kol that he could always compel his pretty little artist. But… he'd rather hoped her affection for him might be real. He didn't want to ruin that just yet.

Kol groaned quietly and tucked his face into the crook of her neck, fixing his lips over that girl's pulse again. The effect was somewhat calming despite making his fangs ache like nothing else.

"I care about you, darling," He mumbled into her skin.

"And I trusted you."

He understood. That girl didn't trust anyone. Now he was just another reason why.

A police siren flared to life in the distance, drawing closer. The artist in his arms chuckled dryly.

"Sounds like my ride's here," She observed, void of all life or emotion. The wheels of a police cruiser pulled to a stop not far off. She'd be caught in the act and Kol happened to know the police force had been set on vervain.

"I won't let them take you," He swore, tightening his grip on his little artist. A car door slammed shut. Footsteps began approaching.

"And what are you gonna-"

Kol picked her up and ran. Consequences be damned. That girl was his.

He stopped on the pretentious front porch of his brother's mansion and allowed her to absorb her new surroundings. She trembled in his arms, eyes round as saucers as she glanced around.

Her eyes met his and she shook her head, taking a step back. "Kol?" Her voice was thick with dread. "What… just-"

"You're okay," He assured her in lieu of an answer. He spoke calmingly, but she wouldn’t allow him to step any nearer. "You're safe now."

"No." Her voice was bold and firm. She held out a hand, increasing the space between them. “Tha-that wasn’t right. We-we-we were, uh… We were there… a-and now we’re here. What happened? Tell me. Tell me what you did!”

“Relax darling, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” He lied. The boy smiled disarmingly, voice a honeyed guise - it had worked before, back before she’d trusted him. “It’s just me.”

“No… No, y-you’re not-” She bit her lip and retreated further, blinking rapidly.

He took another step closer, shushing her disoriented protests. “You’re alright, love. It’s. Just. Me.”

“NO!” The girl cried out with a tone forged from steel, but Kol watched as her resolve warped and cracked. He could see it rise to the surface - that all-consuming fear in his delectable little artist that he so relished and despised. “No… Kol, stop. Please.” Her sweet melody of a voice came out as a hoarse whisper now. “Y-you were my friend, and… I-I still want you, I do. But you need to stop. You’re not supposed to be like everyone else. Stop lying.”

Kol sighed heavily. His artist had been betrayed, time and time again. He couldn’t be like the rest of this godforsaken town - not if he wanted her. Yet… If he told her the truth - if he revealed himself to be everything that terrified her so - how would she possibly stand his presence?

“Do you truly wish to know?” He asked, unable to meet her gorgeous, all-too-perceptive eyes.

"I have to,” She whispered, almost to herself. “I’m not crazy. I-I didn't just imagine that!"

“You’re right.” He nodded and offered her a slight, halfhearted smirk. "You see too much for your own good, sweet thing. But please remember, you asked to be shown this part."

Kol thought about her - about his gorgeous, perfect artist. He inhaled deeply, taking in her mouth-watering scent. He focused on her heartbeat - wet and strong - let it lull him. He pictured that adorable, appetizing blush that always spread across her cheeks when he touched her. Kol allowed himself to imagine just how sweet, how lush, how devastatingly succulent that girl would taste just beneath her soft, warm human skin.

Then, welcoming that corrupt temptation, surrendering to it, he opened his eyes.

His little artist screamed.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @cute-freak27 @fayeatheart @archangelslollipop @aonungs-tsahik @sleepneverheardofher @heartbreakgrill @whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271 @dreamingwithrafe @her-violent-delights @witchcraftandgeekness @dreamingwithrafe @acixsracix Comment or DM me if you want to be added to my tag list!

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missvelvetsstuff · 17 days

Text

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.

She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.

This story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.

NOTES: I'm in the middle of reading Unwanted by @scoonsalicious and am really pissed at that Bucky which made writing fluff a challenge so I hope this came out alright.

LMK if y'all want smut

Chapter 13

Warnings: little angst but mostly fluff

Bucky kissed Rainbow on the cheek as he dropped her off in her room to get ready for their date. Before Bucky even took two steps away from her door, Steve hurried up and started knocking. Rainbow opened the door smiling, thinking Bucky had forgotten something but her face fell when she saw Steve looking at her expectantly.

She sighed "What do you want, Steve?"

Steve smiled at her "I was wondering if you had plans tonight? Maybe we could go for dinner?"

Rainbow shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose "I don't think so Steve. I have plans tonight but even if I didn't, I still wouldn't spend any time with you even if the world was on fire and you owned all the water. Go find yourself a new girl to control and cheat on." She slammed the door in his face.

Steve heard something behind him and glared at Bucky who was leaning up against the wall chuckling at him. "I waited to see if she needed any help dealing with you but it seems like she can handle herself just fine.

And damn pal, the attitude she gave you was hot as fuck."

He slapped Steve on the shoulder "Well, man, I've got a date to get ready for with my sweet Rainbow and I do not want to be late. Catch you later, punk."

Steve just stood in the hallway, seething, until an idea to interfere with their date started forming and he walked away to develop it.

Wanda went to Rainbows room to help her get ready for her date. Rainbow was already anxious.

"I don't know what to wear, I don't have much."

Wanda looked at her "It's just a date, not like you two don't already finish each others sentences all the time. Bucky is crazy about you, he'd love you in a potato sack so stop worrying about it."

Wanda hummed looking through Rainbows closet before grabbing a hanger. "How about this?" She waved a baby blue sun dress "and.......this?" Putting her black leather biker jacket over it. "And some sandals? Light make up and relaxed hair?"

Rainbow laughed and nodded "Yes!" Before sitting down so Wanda could work on her hair.

Rainbow hummed without even realizing and her aura glowed so Wanda giggled "You must not be too nervous because your lights are so light and soft"

Rainbow felt her face heat up and her lights went pink "Why would I be nervous? Bucky and I are already know each other so well. I feel like all the other stuff, you know Strucker, Nat all that bad was there to make sure I appreciate right now. I mean do you think there's something I should be nervous about? Did you see something in Bucky's head? Tell me Wanda please!" She felt her heart racing.

Wanda rubbed her back "No there's nothing, I didn't read anything it was just your lights were so pretty."

Rainbow sighed and tried to soothe herself. "I'm more worried about Steve trying to cause trouble. He knocked on my door after the meeting and asked me to go out with him. I don't think he's going to back down."

Wanda consoled her "We aren't going to let Steve mess things up for you. I'll keep an eye on him to make sure."

Wanda finished her work and stood back. "Stand up and take a look."

Rainbow stood and looked at herself in the mirror, gasped, then twirled to make sure it was really her. "Wanda, what did you do? You made me beautiful."

Wanda scoffed playfully "No love, you are beautiful. I just helped highlight what you already have."

Rainbow felt her emotions welling up and her eyes felt teary. She fanned her face with her hands "Oh no Wanda, you're gonna make me cry and ruin my face. I just, I don't, I'm, no I can't do this it's too much."

Wanda handed her some tissues "No, stop it. You're just nervous but it's going to be perfect. Trust me."

Rainbow hugged her friend and sat on her couch to wait for Bucky.

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

Bucky looked himself over in his mirror, black jeans, button up and leather jacket. Simple and very him. He left his room to pick up the flowers he had ordered at reception and back upstairs to pick up his Rainbow.

He passed his own door to see Steve leaned up against it.

Bucky shook his head "No time for your BS Rogers, find a new hobby."

Steve scoffed "I don't think so. You're nuts if you think I'm just going to stand back and watch you take my girl. I'm not that skinny weakling you used to protect."

Bucky nodded "I agree, that weakling wouldn't have treated Rainbow the way you have."

Steve snapped "Not Rainbow, her fucking name is Y/N and I will get her back." he shoved Bucky into the wall.

Bucky stared at the man he used to consider his brother before setting the flowers aside and cracked his neck calmly. He moved so quickly after that, that Steve couldn't follow his movements and found himself against the wall with Bucky's vibranium hand around his neck. Again.

Bucky held him a moment, breathing heavily before looking Steve in the eyes "This is the LAST time I'm gonna say this. You fucked up and RAINBOW isn't yours, doesn't want to be yours and I'm honestly baffled trying to understand why she won't let me kill you. She's with me now and I'm not gonna fuck up like you did. Now I'm taking her on a date and you are gonna stay here, in the building, and leave us the fuck alone. Got it?"

Steve tried to speak and nod but he couldn't. Bucky chuckled and let up on Steve's neck "Sorry, I guess I'm a little overzealous. Are we clear?"

Steve nodded wordlessly while looking past Bucky's shoulder, seeing Y/N beckoning him and followed her into his own room.

Bucky saw Wanda down the hall, red magic reaching from her hands to follow Steve into his room. She smiled at Bucky and nodded her head towards Rainbows room.

Bucky smiled back, dusted himself off, picked up his flowers and hurried to Rainbows door, knocking quickly. When she opened her door his jaw dropped, making her giggle.

"Hi Jamie." She took the flowers he held out for her.

"Damn doll, you get prettier every time I see you."

She smiled and felt her face heat up, hoping he wouldn't notice. "You look very handsome too. Let me put these flowers in some water and we can go."

Bucky took her hand after she took care of the flowers and led her to the entrance of the building.

When he opened the door for her, Rainbow gasped to see a horse drawn carriage waiting for them.

She looked over at Bucky who shrugged "It's incredible what you can do when you have Tony Stark backing you up." He held his hand up to help her step into the carriage.

They rode all the way around the lake and came back around to the end of the property stopping at a spot with soft outdoor lights and a blanket spread out topped by an assortment of pillows. Soft jazz music seemed to come out of nowhere.

The driver stopped the horse and Bucky helped Rainbow out of the carriage which went far enough away to give them privacy but close enough to be there when they were ready to go home.

Rainbow looked at the setting in awe "It's so pretty Jamie, I love this!"

Bucky stared at her with a smile on his face "Absolutely beautiful"

Rainbow looked at him, realized he was looking at her then felt the butterflies explode and leave a tingle in her core.

Bucky smirked and kissed her cheek before offering a hand to help her sit and get comfortable on the blanket. She giggled playing with them until she was comfortable.

Bucky poured wine and put out a dish of fruit, veggies, cheese and crackers for them to snack on. They talked and laughed, quietly watched the sun set in each others arms, then talked more until Bucky leaned over and kissed her. He was soft and slow to start, gently nibbling her lower lip until she opened up for him and their tongues danced together. He pulled her closer and ran his hands all over her body until they both needed to come up for air.

Bucky caressed her cheek with his flesh hand and smiled when she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He gently grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into another kiss. She kissed him back with all the love and passion she felt. She felt his vibranium hand tighten around her waist until she could feel his erection pushing into her center and moaned into his mouth.

He smiled into the kiss and moved his hand down to grab her ass and grind into her.

He pulled back to check on her, looking into her beautiful eyes "Are you ok doll you let me know if I'm going too fast, yeah?"

Rainbow nodded "I will but you aren't. I want you Jamie. I need you."

She reached down to barely run her hand over his straining cock. Even through his clothes she made him feel like nothing he remembered.

He grunted, his voice husky "If you keep that up I'm gonna make a mess in my pants like a teenager."

He pulled away a little "Maybe we should cool off? Maybe a walk along the lake shore?"

Rainbow pouted and shook her head before rubbing him a little harder, nibbling on his earlobe and whispering in his ear "Maybe, we should get back to my room so I can show you what I meant when I said I need you."

Bucky kissed her one more time before grabbing his phone and texting the coachman to pick them up.

He looked at Rainbow and winked as he pulled her up to stand "Then let's get out of here, doll."

Smut? Or no smut?

@vicmc624

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #angst with a happy ending #james bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x reader

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moonshine-nightlight · 5 months

Text

Potential Long Stories

hey, while looking to next year, i have a number of long story ideas i'm considering and i'd like to gauge y'alls interest in them and see if there are any top contenders since i'd likely only be able to work on one for the next year or two (similar to how Nothing's Wrong with Dale was posted)

these are all just the top ideas i'm considering at the moment and are subject to change when i get back to writing in Spring 2024, but i really want to know if any of these grabs ppls attention as often more interest in a story motivates me to write more!

see under the read more for summaries of each story in the poll

if ur interested in more than one, vote for your favorite and mention the others in the comments/tags!

See this post for a poll on short vs long stories!

See this post for a similar poll on short stories!

see below for summaries and minor details (titles subject to change - but i'm also lazy and hate titling things so maybe not)

A Perfectly Ordinary Research Position: You'd nearly given up hope finding a research assistant position at your new university, but there is one. The professor has apparently gone through four research assistants in the past year and he’s in demonology, but you're desperate. One hasty proposal for a linguistics demonology minor and an application letter later, you find yourself accepting the post. Now you only have to get up to speed on demonology and juggle your own studies with your duties as his assistant. If only the professor wasn’t quite so old and eccentric, constantly changing his mind and personality by the hour. Why, it’s almost as if he’s more than one person. No matter, you'll figure out a way to handle it all. You have to.

Not a direct sequel to Dale, but takes place in the same universe around the same time; ReaderxMaleDemon

Shadow Diplomacy: You’ve been Shaodd’s assistant since he came to your town to Arbitrate a land dispute that was threatening to escalate to violence years ago. Still, you’re used to everyone paying him attention and disregarding you to some extent, no matter that Shaodd always treats you with respect. This kingdom has finally crossed the line, by barring you from the senate entirely. You’re not sure what you thought Shaodd would do in response—but to say you’re his spouse was not at all on the list. Now you’re stuck acting as a married couple while untangling the mess of a situation these people have found themselves in. You can’t help but think how much easier the charade would be if you weren’t in love with him.

Fantasy; ReaderxEldritchEntity

Patronage: You can’t believe it’s come to this. Your country had finally won the war only to fall on desperate times while trying to recover. Your king, a foreigner in all but on paper, is the one who decides a sacrifice to the country’s patron deity is called for and what more worthy sacrifice could there be than his queen? Unfortunately for him, while the sacrifice works, your patron appears before you can die and he says that since you were the sacrifice, you are the one he will defer to. From figure head to divinely backed, can you lead your country back to prosperity?

Fantasy; ReaderxMaleDeity

Tailor Made: You volunteered to accompany the five students who won the contest for free prom outfits, offered by a local high-end tailor shop. You’re braced for someone fussy and quite frankly a snob, but Calvin is not what you expected. He’s sophisticated, but kind—effortlessly setting your students at ease and making everything go smoothly. After everything, you find yourself striking up an odd friendship with the man. You don’t understand why you feel so comfortable around him, but you don’t want to question it. If only you couldn’t tell he was keeping secrets. Will they drive you apart or bring you closer together?

Modern w/secret demons&angels; ReaderxMaleDemon

Imposter Syndrome: It seemed like a tedious but straightforward job at first. Twelve technicians, with a crew of the long-haul vessel brought out in cyro to restore a large mining rig that had malfunctioned. Yeah, the fact that everyone who’d been manning it had died was spooky, but the medical team had already cleared most of that out. The most annoying part was that you were going to have to be in a full suit since the long-hauler didn’t have enough oxygen to restore it to the rig. Then Crewmember Redman found Crewman Chroma’s dead body and worse yet, there were still 12 technicians accounted for. The logs were no help, everyone was on the roster in the system except you all remember the right number. But you hadn’t met anyone before you were put to sleep for the trip. Problems only mount when not only do you fail to identify the impostor, but crewmembers keep dying. Will you be able to figure out who’s killing off crewmember’s before you’re the one in their crosshairs?

Science Fiction; ReaderxAlien

#polls #stories #my stories #love hearing your thoughts #i was gonna hold off on presenting the options #but i hav no self control #i'm still workshoping all of these ideas and building them out #and a new story might grab me before i get back to writing #but i'd lov to know what you think!

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emeryleewho · 3 months

Text

My post about quality critiquing is still going around and it's reached a whole new group of people who seem to think it's a flop, not because it's "too nice" as many of the early critiques said, but because it's "not nice enough".

I don't know how to tell y'all this, but the point of critique is not to be nice nor is it to scathing. It's to be *informative*.

A review that says "this book is trash and the author never deserves to write again" isn't trash because it's mean (though it IS mean, and unwarranted). It's trash because it literally says nothing. I know nothing more about this book than I did an hour ago. I know more about the reviewer (and the general asshole energy they have) than the thing that they're reviewing.

A review that says "This book does nothing more than tie a bunch of corny tropes together with weak prose and poor grammar that couldn't pass a second grade English class through the lens of cardboard cutout characters with the emotional maturity of Teletubbies" is a FAR more scathing review, but at least it TELLS us something. If I'm the type of reader who actively seeks out the tropiest of stories, I can read this review and gauge that this actually might be an okay read for me because it sounds like this person is mostly frustrated with the elements of this story not being super original, and guess what, that's exactly what I'm looking for! On the other hand, if I HATE tropes or weak grammar, I can probably assume this won't be for me. This review is still eviscerating the novel, but it does so in a way that allows other people to draw conclusions from it.

And guess what, it's also written in a way that allows others to disagree with it! "Oh, you think the characters are emotionally immature? Well, in chapter 12, they discuss the complexities of blah blah..." Now, we can have a discussion among fellow readers and critics, which also leaves room for potential readers to see the discussion and say, "Oh, now I get why they felt that way. Sounds like I would agree. Or maybe sounds like I wouldn't."

The idea that every critique needs to be nice OR mean to a work completely misses the point. Sometimes you love something. Sometimes you hate it. Both of these are fine. The point is that if you're going to try your hand at writing professional (or even semi-professional) critique, you need to understand that critique is *also* its own written art that serves an actual purpose. If you just want to go be snarky on the internet because a book pissed you off, than this isn't about you, but too many people throughout publishing & education seem to think that critique is about people's feelings, and while feelings will always be a part of it (we're human after all), it's not *the point*.

And frankly, reviews are meant to be interpreted just the same as books are. There have been *scathing* reviews that actually convinced me to pick up a book because I knew the reviewer and I clearly had opposite tastes based on what they said made the book suck, and that's exactly how reviews are supposed to work. They're not meant to coddle an author's feelings OR lash out at them for writing something you hated. They're meant to give enough info that other readers can draw conclusions.

#media analysis #critique #reviews #books #novels

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canonically-a-genloser · 9 months

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Sooo I heard you write for Ranboo x reader, eh? Bet.

Could you do GL!Ranboo x reader fluff? Could be angst to fluff, but like.. I want tooth rotting fluff. Maybe Ranboo has a panic attack because of everything that's going on and the reader comforts them (If we doing some silly romantics reader gives little kisses and is definitely cuddly)? I haven't seen a genloss x reader fic ANYWHERE so if you did this I'd be so happy <3

AAAA I'M SORRY I'LL TRY TO MAKE THE ENDING OF THIS HAPPY (spoiler alert i failed) BUT IT CAN ONLY TRULY END IN PAIN BECAUSE OF THE GOSHDAMN FINALE EEEUUUUUUUGH (y'all have no idea how much i have sobbed over gl!ran they are my baby)

oN WITH THE FIC I TRIED LMAO (i did so bad making it fluff it'S ALL JUST ANGST I'M SO SORRY DAMMIT- i will blame Ranboo though- /hj) (I would absolutely love to try rewriting this as a fluffier fic or any other genloss requests so feel free to just ask!!)

warnings: anxiety/panic (basically the whole story but there is comfort and hugs), use of you/yours, some death will be vaguely referenced!

Ranboo had been stumbling through the mall for what already felt like hours.

Their mind was reeling, and Hetch's almost unnervingly intent, almost ruthless guiding wasn't helping him process what had been happening right in from of him for who knows how long. They knew, though- Hetch was trying to help. Something felt off, but Ranboo's anxious mind dismissed it as Hetch himself being nervous about getting them out.

Well- before Ranboo had fucked it up by putting in an incorrect code and increasing security throughout the entire mall.

"Ran?" a familiar voice called out, breaking his already unsteady train of thought.

They jumped nearly a mile, arms instinctively moving to protect himself before they recognized you. "I- how did you find- Y/N, I thought you died-" they stopped as you wrapped them in a hug, nearly tackling him.

They moved to hug you back when he suddenly realized how utterly terrified he was. Terrified that they'd have to watch Austin or Niki or Sneeg die again and be powerless against whoever controlled him through the mask. Terrified that he'd lose you even though he had just found you.

He felt frozen in place. Shivers threatened to wrack his body. Tears began forming in their eyes, tears that his own ragged breaths wouldn't let him swallow back or hide.

Small (to them) hands clutched at the back of his jacket. They could feel a gentle tug towards the ground, and they complied, sitting on the floor without a word as their heart pounded. He felt your arms wrap themselves tighter around him and shakily clung to your jacket.

"Easy, easy, Ran, it's okay," he heard over the sound of their own breathing. "I got you."

How he wanted to believe it.

They realized he must have spoken his thoughts aloud when he heard you whisper more reassurance in his ear. Almost involuntarily, he moved closer to you, listening to your gentle heartbeat and the low, soothing vibration of your voice. He felt you rest your head on their own, along with you gently planting kisses on the top of their head.

"Mhmm. There you are. See, we're safe here for a bit," you murmured. "Just breathe for now."

And, slowly but surely, he could feel himself doing exactly that. He felt more grounded than they had in days, and they relaxed at the feel of warm arms around them.

"We gotta leave," Ranboo murmured, his head still resting on your shoulder. He hated how broken and scared his voice sounded.

"And we're going to," you said just as quietly. You kept your voice as calm and controlled as you could despite the situation- and Ranboo could tell.

They sighed. He could only look at the ground as he tried to piece together a halfway decent apology even though they knew you would have none of it.

"Nuh-uh." He was right. "It's not your fault, okay? Now we're gonna stay here until you're ready. I wish I could let you rest fully, but obviously-" you cut yourself off. A glance around the mall was enough. "Aside from all that though, seriously. How are you feeling?"

They took a second to think. "Uhm- okay. Better. I just mean- I didn't know- I didn't do anything, I don't know why-"

"I know," you cut him off before he could lead himself down another trail of panic. "I know. It wasn't your fault." You held them as close as you could, wishing you could both forget everything that had happened. Wishing you hadn't had to watch the sweetest person you knew take the blame for so many deaths.

"I don't know what- I just don't- how do we.." they trailed off. There were so many questions to be asked, most with no answers either of you could give.

You stopped to think for a moment as Ranboo reluctantly sat up, your gaze resting on yours and his still interlocked hands.

"I have an idea," you said slowly.

They looked you in the eyes.

"Ever been to the food court they've got in here?"

A/N: ^them <3 i loved ranboo's hair in this

SO- WRITING SKILLZ ARE NOT THERE BUT ITS OKAY. ALSO THIS TOOK SO LONG BECAUSE I HAD AO3 WRITER SHIT HAPPEN IRL LMAO SO WE HAD THE EXISTENTIAL CRISIS BUT IT'S OKAY

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN

I LOVE YOU ALL

IF YOU ACTUALLY READ ALL THIS FAR YOU ARE INCREDIBLY DEDICATED AND I APPLAUD AT THY

HAVE AN ABSOLUTELY POGCHAMP DAY AND/OR NIGHT

I AM NOW GOING TO HOPEFULLY BRAINSTORM MY SPIDERSONA AND IMAGINE IF KISS E!42 MILES, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES GAMERS <3

#gl!ranboo x reader #(is that a new tag what the fuck)#generation loss x reader #BRO DOES NOBODY WRITE FOR THIS #I DON'T WANNA ADD THE USUAL TAGS BUT SHOULD I BE?!!1!1?

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somethingclevermahogony · 1 month

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WIP Questionnaire

I was tagged by @elsie-writes and @illarian-rambling so I am responding to both of you here!

Unfortunately I have a ton of deadlines coming up so I might be posting a bit sparsely for a few days. But I would still love it if y'all continued to send asks and tag games so I have some things to respond to when I get back (on top of the things I already have to respond to!) Rules: Answer as many (or as few) questions as you'd like!

The Testaments of the Green Sea

Questions:

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

My MC, Narul, I believe was the first concrete part of my world that I created. He started out as this sort of vague character, too big and strong for the world around him, struggling with understanding himself and his place in a world that is so divorced from what it is to be someone like him. The awkward gentle giant is a trope that I just happen to really enjoy. From there I started making a world for him to live in, for a while he lived in the Kingdom of Chisheytal, which later became the City-States of Kishetal, and for a little while I played with the idea that the world of Kobani was actually set in the post-apocalyptic aftermath of a superhero world, and that Narul was in some way related to these ancient superheroes. However as the character and the world progressed, that aspect eventually went away. As far as the world itself goes, Kishetal was definitely the first place to get fleshed out and made into a proper setting.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Frankly I have no clue. Something acoustic maybe? Something relatively chill. For all the blood and destruction in the story, a lot of it is just about the beauty of the landscape. I think it would have to be something original. But if I had to pick, and this might be a bit of a cheat, all I can think of is the song "The Greatest Adventure" from The Rankin/Bass "Hobbit". I think the themes of Adventure, but also finding purpose in the present and taking chances in your life and the people you love is something that is really central to Narul as a character. When I think of the song, I think of a number of characters like Istek, Penetinos, and The Stranger singing it for Narul and Ninma, sort of as a way to encourage them, to push them forward.

3. Who are your favorite characters you’ve made? Why?

First and foremost of course is Narul. As a bigger, not necessarily conventionally attractive guy who used to (and to some extent still) struggled with socialization and my own sexuality, I feel like I've written a lot of myself into him as a character. Narul is more expressive than me, particularly when it comes to things like grief and frustration, and so I enjoy using him as a way of addressing some of those issues from sort of another medium. Unfortunately I've made the poor fella an anxious wreck.

Istek is the polar opposite to Narul. He is free and happy, and is able to grapple with and fully embrace powerful emotions in a way that I wish I could. His grasp on life and purpose and love, are things that I wish I could emulate. His energy is a lot of fun to write whether as the daring sea captain or as the forgetful old man.

Ninma is fun, just because writing a little bratty child character is a lot of fun. She has next to no filter, and that's just fun to translate into the story.

Zatar and the Deep Sun are up there just because villains are fun to write about. Lots of violence and angst.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fanbase for your story?

I'm not entirely sure! I hope there would be overlap with the fan bases for other epic fantasy series, LOTR, Wheel of Time, Etc etc. In some ways I can see a little bit of overlap with Percy Jackson fans if only because of the shared connection/inspiration from ancient mythology. Aside from that I'm not entirely sure, to be honest I'm not all that active in a lot of fan bases so it's hard to say for sure.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Editing! I make constant typos and I brain dump. Editing is such a slow and boring process and one that is made even worse by the fact that I am currently working on getting a Masters Degree and so much of my time is dedicated to papers and research.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

There are some, there are a good deal of animals that are unique to my setting. However I wouldn't say that animals are necessarily important to the plot, at least not in the first book. You do see horned-rabbits, Flesh-eating Deer, sea-serpents, birds, livestock, etc etc. There are no pets or anything like that. I don't count spirits with animalistic forms.

7. How do your characters get around?

Walking, boats, and horses. Nothing all that exciting.

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I am in the process of editing my second draft for book one and I have started on book two. Right now I'm not doing much of anything, finals season doesn't particularly allow for a lot of heavy writing/editing.

9. What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

I think worldbuilding will certainly be a big part of what draws people in, but I also hope that people will enjoy the found-family aspect and will be really drawn in by all of the side characters that interact with Narul and Ninma.

And if that fails, there is lots of blood, violence, monsters, adventuring, magic, and queer romance.

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

Who are your favorite characters you’ve made? Why?

What other pieces of media do you think would share a fanbase for your story?

What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

How do your characters get around?

What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Tagging @scribble-dee-vee , @patienceofstone , @americanfemcel , @hallowedfury , and @patternwelded-quill as well as any one else that is interested!

#writeblr #writing #wip #creative writing #fantasy writing #testamentsofthegreensea #fantasy #queer fantasy

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jayfortheday · 2 years

Text

✧*。Masterlist And Gen Info ✧*。

This account has officially been abandoned. I’ll leave this gen list here for all who wish to still read any of my stuff. Love to you all!

One fic may be under multiple characters btw. Only Klitz + Eli gets its own category

Characters!

~Dwayne Hoover (Little Miss Sunshine, 2006)

---->Comforting You HCs

---->Still My Favorite

~Brian Wilcox (Fast Food Nation, 2006)

---->Stargazers

~Tim Klitz (The Girl Next Door, 2004)

---->Nighttime Nostalgia

~Eli Brooks (The Girl Next Door, 2004)

---->Eli Brooks Masterlist

~Eli Brooks + Tim Klitz (The Girl Next Door, 2004)

---->Smut HCs

---->Date Night

~Oswald Cobblepot (The Batman, 2022)

---->Cuddling HCs

---->Barely Holding On

~Alex Jones (Prisoners, 2013)

---->Rediscovery

~David Loki (Prisoners, 2013)

---->Rediscovery

---->One Short Moment

~Eddie Munson (Stranger Things Season 4, 2022)

---->Kiss The Pain Away

---->End All This Now

---->Review + Fix It

---->The Same Coin

---->Bleed For Me

---->Music Lessons (1) (2) (3)

~Vance Hopper (The Black Phone, 2022)

---->Vance Hopper Masterlist

~Robin Arellano (The Black Phone, 2022)

---->Got Your Back

---->Looks Like It Hurt

---->Ghost!Grabber Victim HCs

---->Left On My Own

---->Roller Boy

---->Confession + Dating HCs

---->In Your Arms Again

---->More Than Math

~Non __x Reader Fics

----> Untitled

---->Back To This Place Again

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

Hello! I will go by Jay here on Tumblr! My pronouns are He/Him and I identify as aroace. I really like writing "x reader" fanfic so that's mostly the stuff I'll be posting, maybe the occasional something else, but that's it really.

I can write both SFW and NSFW but I tend to prefer to write SFW. The characters under 18 I will write for are Dwayne Hoover, Vance Hopper, and Robin Arellano and I will not do anything sexual for them anymore. All other characters I write for will be 18 or over. Any requests for hard no’s will be deleted.

Hard no’s include sexual content involving minors, romantic or sexual content for Alex Jones from Prisoners, sexual noncon or dubcon including cnc, non-familial requests for characters 11 and under, hetero relationships for canonically gay characters, and pieces about real people.

Please feel free to send me prompts or anything, really. I love hearing from people, and I tend to run low on ideas so if there's something you think I should write then lmk. Please give me time to write them, I have a job and attend college and not as much free time as I would like. Whatever pronouns are used for the reader in your requests will be the ones in the fic, if there are no pronouns, I'll use they/them. For smut requests, please include the anatomy you would like. If it’s not specified, I will decide based on what I want to write that day. All drafts will be published in the order they are received/made unless I am experiencing writer's block, in which case I will work on whatever prompt inspires me the most. If y’all ever see that I answered a post but then can’t find it on my page/see it unfinished, I published it too early and deleted it. I’ll upload it with a screenshot of the prompt when it’s ready, very sorry.

In my posts, I will provide a word count, description (for stories), pairing (character x reader or character/reader), and pairing type (familial, platonic, romantic, sexual), and tags/warning. If there is a tag you believe I missed for a story you would like acknowledged, feel free to say something either in a direct message or a comment!

Most of my pieces will have a GN!reader and any NSFW will typically be female anatomy with some occasional male anatomy, but I can do something else on request.

I hope y'all enjoy what I write! :)

#masterlist #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader

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halfmoth-halfman · 9 months

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So I just read the new chapter, beautful work with the afterlife of Canary and seeing her father Adler again. The flames, the rage, Canary finally being SICK of it---- I am ready for the rage. I also appreicated the way her father just said "you're fault, I may have been shit and like hiring the docotor whose wife I killed wasn't the best idea, but the shit you got yourself is all you" talk bc Canary did try, but now she has that "bitch better have my money", "Jawn" Wick, Alabama riverboat brawl, 'cuz I'll air this bitch out', 'fuck it, I'll do it myself', energy that I just love to see on women *chefs kiss*. And then the face shift from Adler to Makarov really did it for me, and miss girl still held her owwwnnnnnn. She not playin' with y'all no more Graves, Kira, Makarov, 141 + Price inlcuded and even Kate (idk what she'd do, but if Canary got beef, then we all got beef).

And then her choice to go back to the land of the living bc she ain't no punk ass bitch???? Water my crops and made me want to get on my Zoom since I ain't been in session since I graduated and told myself to only take a 2 week break max then get on these job applications. Waking up and already being sarcastic and witty with Rudy is such a change to what I would've imagined her waking up like (being more frazzled, and scared, etc.). And then having everyone in the room tired as hell, weeks taken off her life and whatnot--- THEN TO BE TOLD PRICE GOT ARRESTED BC HE MURDERED HER!!!! Kate better swoop in and do her job, Shepherd better do some white people and police offer shit to get Price out so Canary can dog him for what he put her through. Then I wanna see Canary with the nine from Jamal, I need her hands Rated E for Everyone as a testmant to her last name and who tf she is and always been.

Also, your story is the first story I ever been waiting on for the chapter drop like when people wait on Rihanna for an album. I was pacing, then was like 'why tf is she in PST????' with my EST ass. And I even watched the new Zoey 102 movie to pass time then have a friend on FT bc I was STRESSED. I read through that too fucking fast, and you legit give me the energy to write, I just don't know what to write or feel that spark really. I legit sat here refreshing this forsaken app like it was Twitter lmfaooooo

Lots of love

aaaaaaaa thank you so much!!! 💜

i'm also ready for canary's rage, and her deciding to really embody the adler name and get her money and estate back like the queen she is. adler and canary have a very complicated relationship, and a lot of it stems from her mother's death. i think adler knows that his wife's death falls like 98% on his shoulders, but has shifted blame to canary because it's easier for him to be mad at someone else even if it's his own daughter. he's always been a little harsher on her than he was with graves, but convinced himself that it was for her own benefit and to make her stronger in the world that he was raising her to be a part of and take over.

so, of course, when everything goes down with graves and canary waltzes into purgatory/limbo while graves has control over everything, adler is pissed, regardless of the circumstances leading to that outcome. to me, he has a very black and white view of canary's situation and thinks that if she wanted to, she could've found a way out or to get rid of graves when it's not that simple. for canary, it feels like just another thing he's blaming her for, and she's realizing that almost every man in her life - graves, makarov, adler, shepherd, even price - are all the same; they all see her as a tool to be used, a bargaining chip, and she's not having it anymore. canary really is out for blood now, but whether or not the 141 is going to be included in that is undecided.

i don't think there was any other choice for her than to go back. like wanting to continue the story aside, adler was right when he figured she wouldn't be able to live with herself letting graves win, and canary knew that. sure, if she'd stayed she would get to see her mother and not have to worry about makarov or price or anyone else, but letting graves get away with no consequences after everything he's done to her? absolutely not.

i think she is a bit frazzled, but also more resolute after talking with her father. she knows what needs to be done, she knows she's going to need the 141 to do it, but she also knows she doesn't have to be happy and nice about it either. cordial, yes, but she's not going to forget what they accused her of anytime soon.

who knows what shepherd is going to do with price, but i can absolutely tell you canary's hands are rated e for everyone 24/7 365. she is out for blood, and she doesn't intend on taking any prisoners.

"refreshing this forsaken app like it was Twitter" LMAOOOOO i'm so glad that you're enjoying this fic that much omg, i love reading through everyone's thoughts about where the story's going to go. honestly, you guys give me a lot of inspiration to write these chapters, esp after the 12k one because ngl that chapter was kinda draining for me to write, but y'all made it worth it! 💜

#chrisemi #moth answers #answered #cod ask #private

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

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Hi ! I have so many questions about your Aemond (I like him a lot).

We know he's a scholar, and probably a nerd, do you think he was a secret romantic when he was younger ? As in, reading love stories, dreaming of being a knight in shining armor for his love ? Maybe because he had some naive vision of love, but also maybe because he desperately needed to believe that someone out there would love him for who he is ? That, by being "just" Aemond, he would be worthy of love ?

Is Handmaid his first love ? Or did he fall in love before ? And, if yes, with who ?

Did his parents marriage influence his visions of relationship ? Like, because he saw how sad his mother was, or how his father didn't care for her, maybe he resented the idea of love or/and marriage and swear to himself he would never fall for any of the romance thing ? (I know it's quite the opposite from 1, but I think one can dream of love while being heartbroken knowing/thinking it's just an illusion)

Is your Aemond on the Ace spectrum (demisexual perhaps) ? Was handmaid the first(or one of the rare women) who made him crave physical intimacy because he felt emotionally connected/safe with her ?

What are the names of the children ?

I think that is all. Thank you so much for your writing, I can't wait to read the rest of the story ^^

Have a nice day !

Hello my love <333 I love my Aemond a lot too, he's just an absolute joy to write and talk about.

Perhaps Aemond turned to sappy and lovesick fairytales to cope with his environment and the constant teasing/bullying he endured. Obviously, the loss of his eye changes that, as he feels too scarred and ugly for any highborn lady's love and affection. But I think a piece deep down inside him still yearns for pure and true love. A boyish innocence that hangs on like a lil parasite.

Handmaid is his first love, yes! His first and only love because Aemond is a loyal and devoted mf.

I feel that both his parents' and siblings’ marriages heavily influenced his own perspective on relationships and love and his own future wedding, but not in the sense that he dreads falling in love. Aemond is no fool; he knows little to no love is shared between his parents. It is completely obvious. But in the SFW headcanons I posted last week, I also discussed how memories of Helaena’s first pregnancy are an encouragement to be a good and involved father to his and handmaid’s children. Aemond uses his father and Aegon as a “what not to do” to his handmaid.

As a demisexual myself, I wholeheartedly believe that Aemond is demi too. Like absolutely NO doubt about it. I imagine his exposure to sexual abuse on his thirteenth birthday is the key reason he no longer feels any sexual attraction (or craves intimacy) unless there is a strong bond filled with love, comfort, and security. And handmaid gives him AALLLLL that. She eventually becomes his anchor, happiness, and safe space- his best friend and confidant. They’re not just lovers. Her soft touches and kind words touch him like nothing ever has before. Sappy, sure, but Aemond deserves it.

(I picture him during the first few months of her as his handmaid, he just stares at her. Absolutely taken, falling head over heels in love. When she fixes his beloved eyepatch, it’s a sign to Aemond that, “Yup, she’s the one.”)

What are the children’s names? Honestly, I don’t know! I haven’t gotten around to naming them, although a sweet anon sent me possible baby names (Helaenys, Alyce, and Alyssa, which I totally love), but I’m always open to more suggestions from y’all! I mentioned that Aemond wishes to name his daughter after handmaid’s mother, Alys, so their baby girl’s name might be either Alyssa or Alysanne.

I'm so so so so happy you're enjoying the series! I totally fell in love with this pairing so I'm excited to write more parts this week. If y'all have any further ideas, questions, or suggestions for drabbles/one-shots about the two, send them! I enjoy receiving different things regarding our handmaid ☺️

#vic’s asks and replies #handmaid!reader

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