#Prowl would love pool

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: What do you call a deaf pirate? Not 'Siren Food' apparently, which is really sort of hilarious when you've been kidnapped by a hungry Siren. Not for the Siren though—he's definitely not having a good time.

A/N: *rushes in at the 11th hour* Happy Mer-May!! I've been back and forth with clinical rotations and also working on some commission things and Leona's Part 4, but like, it's a fanfiction holiday. I couldn't miss out. And for one of my favorite tropes nonetheless. So here we are.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a legend that floated throughout the Sage Island Seas of the Pirate With No Ears. Which was ridiculous—half because such a tall tale managing to survive so long and so wildly really showed just how pathetic the rest of the gossip around here was, and half because you still had ears. They just didn’t work very well was all.

Some said you’d been deafened by a prowling sea sorcerer who had tricked you into trading away your once keen sense for some mortal foible or other. Others whispered about how you’d been trapped in an ice cavern, surrounded by electric eels and sharks, and that the only way you’d been able to weasel your way out was by cutting off your own ears so that you’d have enough wiggle room to escape from your bindings. Which made absolutely zero sense at all.

In reality, all you’d done was stand far too close to a canon for far too long when you were far, far too little, and ever since all you could hear was the dull ringing of post-battle silence. Sometimes it was a bit sad. When the waves crashed against the shore, or when the gulls flew overhead—you were sure all those things sounded very lovely. You remembered music and laughter and sometimes they echoed in your head at a distance—a memory not quite forgotten but certainly fading at the edges. But other times, like now, where your fellow crewmates were bawling into their ales and wailing about lord knew what… well, it was always nice to find a silver lining in these sorts of things.

One of the tipsy lads tottering around the deck of The Rose Queen tripped and landed against the wood with something that looked like it’d be a very loud smack. Your brain helpfully filled the silence with some nonsense noises and park-play-style laughter instead. You watched Cater stumble by out of the corner of your eye. He patted your head and said something that twisted his mouth into a gaping ‘uuuuu-eeeee-oooo’ before he puttered away to leech off First Mate Clover instead. Ace threw a drunken arm around your shoulder and burbled something against your cheek that popped with the scent of stale booze, and you decided to pretend that you were as alone at sea as your muted senses would like to think.

The party raged on long into the evening and you stared down at the rabble contentedly from your perch in the crow’s nest. They were a good bunch—dullards though they may be. You’d heard (hardee har har) that they were planning to raid the Port o'Bliss, and something must have gone terribly right. You only really hung around to scrub barnacles off the paneling and keep an eye on the tides well enough that Deuce wouldn’t run the lot of you ashore, so you weren’t really sure how the whole ‘pirating’ business actually went about. But clearly they were doing a pretty good job of it.

You rested your chin on your crossed arms and sighed into the salty breeze. The night was warm and pleasant, and before you knew it, you were nodding off against the rough fabric of your sleeves. You weren’t quite sure how long you spent dozing there tangled in the ropes of mast, but it was long enough that by the time you snorted back awake the festive lights had dimmed to embers and most of the crew had sidled away below deck to either keep drinking themselves blind or collapse in a pool of their own colorful vomit.

There was a lone figure swerving towards the bow—precariously close to the railing for someone so clearly unsteady on their own legs, if you did say so yourself. You squinted suspiciously at his mused lavender hair, not entirely sure you recognized the head bobbing around below you. But perhaps The Rose Queen had picked up some fresh recruits at the Port, or maybe the crew had gotten a bit too booze happy with some dye. Purple Hair leaned up against the rails and tipped forward on his toes like he was thinking about diving in, or maybe barfing. Either or, you sighed and shimmied your way down to stop him from tumbling into a watery grave.

“Oi!” you called, the shout vibrating up and out of your throat, and the kid jumped half a foot in the air. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from there. Riddle’ll have your head if we have to send out the rescue rafts this late at—”

The kid turned to face you with wide, wide, glowing eyes. Your own went round as dinner plates as you watched his too-dark pupils pulse like drumbeat. They were so bright, practically illuminating the whole of his delicate face, but there was no light to them. Matte and sleek like a shark’s eyes.

He shouted something at you so whip fast that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and then he was glancing nervously back and forth between the roiling waves at his back and the encroaching deckhand at his front—making all sorts of nonsense gestures that had you sighing behind gritted teeth.

“Look,” you said, interrupting whatever indiscernible gibberish he was spouting, “I don’t know who you think you are. But you’ve picked the wrong ship to try and—I don’t know—seize? Pirate? You can’t pirate a pirate ship! But either way, you—”

Then the kid opened his mouth like he was screaming, and you frowned again. There was strange prickle along your arms that had goosebumps crawling up your skin and the hair raising at the back of your neck, but you shook it off and moved forward with another weary sigh. You pulled a length of rope from the belt slung around your hips and held the limp bundle of salt-soaked mesh up like a threat.

“I will throw you overboard. And hogtie you first,” you promised cheerily. “So you actually sink.”

Purple Hair just looked like he was trying to scream louder, and you were sourly tempted to stick your fucking tongue out at him and make petulant ‘nyeh nyeh nice try’ noises at him, but then there was a heaviness behind you. A creak in the wood that you could feel if not hear. You rolled out of habit—tumbling across the deck just in time to avoid a nasty swipe along your back. And oh no. The thing crawling up over the railing was worse than any lavender would-be ship thief. The black tipped claws and flared fins were telling enough, but the sharp-toothed grin was somehow more so. It tilted its unnaturally lovely head at you and spoke politely—clearly and very, painfully, slowly.

“What’s—this—perhaps—” you were able to vaguely make out. Maybe. The dark and your panic were both a terrible hindrance to putting shapes to sound. His lips curled into something wicked before parting far more smoothly than the younger man’s had. Singing. It was singing, not screaming. Hauntingly green eyes glowed bright and you felt the tunk tunk tunk beneath your feet of the rest of the crew starting to move around beneath you. Around you.

Then there were more of them—crawling up over the railings, trilling into the night air. All far too lovely and far too sharp to be anything but predators. The moonlight illuminated their fangs and scales in a ghostly white glow. There were shivers running along your spine, but otherwise nothing but silence echoed through your head. Small mercies. You watched several of your fellow crewmates rush out of the cabins only to double over with their hands clasped over their ears. Others stuttered and tumbled forward towards the railings as if they were being dragged along like puppets on a string. You cursed and ducked between them—looping your rope around their legs as you went and tugging them to their knees like a line of falling dominoes.

You let your hapless comrades collapse to the deck and curled the last throws of rope around your fists. You were decent enough with a knife when it came to dueling an unmoving, completely unaware foe—like a barnacle or some rusted over door hinges. But real people? Sirens?Fucking literal blade-tipped-merfolk straight out of every sailor’s nightmare? No thank you. So the teeny blade stayed sheathed at your hip and you dove into the fray to find something rope-wrangle-able.

At the other end of the bow, you watched Purple Boy straighten from a crouch. There were new, silvery blue scales crawling up his neck and forearms. He was still tottering around on legs that he clearly wasn’t all too used to, and you watched as the little guppy started to make a furious beeline for Captain Rosehearts. Which—no. Absolutely not. You were never one of those pirates who was like ‘oh, Captain, my Captain~’ but Riddle was good. He was tough, and taciturn, and could throw a tantrum that could bring down an entire harbor. But he’d written out all of his ridiculous six hundred rules by hand so that you could have them. And the teeny furrow in his brow as he staunchly taught himself hand sign after hand sign so that he could yell at you in earnest was so endearing that you’d protect that little firecracker for as long as you breathed.

So you went after Lavender Head, and then of course Lavender Head turned and tried to shout at you all over again. When that continued to not work at all, the Siren began to backpedal in earnest. He turned his head and squawked at whoever was around to listen, but in the chaos of the attack there didn’t seem to be many of his pod free to lend him a hand.

You descended on the little snake, rope at the ready and perfectly happy to make sushi out of the fucker, when something big overshadowed the both of you. Another Siren crested over the side of the ship, larger and clearly more impressive than the rest of its kin. Which matched your stupidly terrible luck just fine. Ah, yes, Mister Big Bad. Please. Go for the deckhand rather than the literal trained mercenaries less than ten feet away. Brilliant. The Siren bared its fangs like some great, terrible, beast and tore into the paneling with its curved claws as it attempted to drag you down to your watery grave. You cursed, and kicked, and yelped in a panic when the thing managed to get one of those cold, pale hands around your ankle.

Despite the fact that all of it surely happened in less than a few seconds, your descent seemed to progress in steps. First, the Siren tugged you over the side. Second, you smartly flipped the loops of your rope up to try and lasso yourself a handhold. Thirdly, you outright missed the ship and instead tangled the spools of thin rope all around your Murderer To Be. Said Murderer’s eyes widened in shock as your unintentional trap wrapped the both of you up like a mess of bugs in a spider web. And finally, the pair of you crashed towards the churning ocean in a knotted-up heap and slowly sank beneath the waves.

.

.

You rubbed the grit and salt from your eyes and sat up with a groan. Where were you? Not too far out at sea, hopefully. Washing up ashore had been nothing short of a miracle, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant you got to avoid becoming chum for another day. The sand beneath your fingers was soft and white, and it slipped beneath your palm like water. You moved to push yourself to your feet and froze—a blur of amethyst swiping out and knocking you back onto your ass with a splash.

You spluttered and spat, and had just barely managed to flip yourself over like a turtle who’d been upended on its back when you caught sight of the absolute last creature in the world that you’d ever wanted to see again.

The big Siren had washed up nearby.

Because of course it had.

The creature narrowed his eyes at you and immediately set about lashing his rope-twisted tail against the sand like a rattlesnake. He bared his pointed teeth in a hiss and you were dowsed in a barrage of saltwater ammunition.

“Stop! Stop!” you begged, spitting out wayward chunks of seaweed, and shells, and gods knew what else. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

The Siren curled his lips unpleasantly, putting that wonderful row of dagger-like pearly whites on display. He spat something completely indiscernible—the line of his mouth so harsh and flat that you couldn’t have even begun to pick up the shape of things if you tried—and you scooted as far back as you could without toppling yourself over again.

He dug his clawed hands into the sand and said something else, just as clipped and tight. You assumed it was an accusation. You were very used to recognizing the glare that accompanied those. When you didn’t respond, his brow tugged down low and he snapped something else—this time jabbing those pointed, black, nails in your direction. Ah, so definitely a complaint then.

You cocked your head at him out of habit and that griping turned into a snarl so ferocious that you could feel it racing up your skin like static. Which was definitely pretty trippy.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you told him honestly. Which just made the spiked fins flatten all along the side of his head and another wave of those zippy sneers dance up your arms. “Literally,” you tried. “I—”

The Siren opened his mouth and that sparky static from earlier amplified into something near painful. It was strong, and prickly, and left the imprints of invisible shackles all along your already aching joints. You could feel his voice carrying on the breeze—brushing against your cheeks and playing with hair. Thin, icy, fingers digging their way into your brain and yanking. But there was something missing from all that ethereal hypnotism. Something pleasant and sweet to complete the circle of temptation. A voice, you’d guess. There had to be a call after all, or else it hardly mattered how deep and all encompassing the need was to answer.  

When you didn’t immediately, like, fall to your knees in subjugation or drown yourself in the inch and a half of tepid water pooling at your hips, the Siren’s eyes dimmed with something that almost looked like hesitance. His brow pinched tight and he parted his red lips wider. A seagull dropped from the sky. Three different crabs crawled out of the sand to bow down.

“I can’t hear you!” you tried again, loud enough to have your teeth aching. His mouth went wider, and an entire ass tuna beached itself to flop pathetically near your ankles. “It’s not a challenge!” you wailed. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

The static disappeared all at once, and the Siren’s lips slipped into a small, surprised sort of ‘o.’ He blinked his too-long lashes at you and stared you down like you were some sort of escaped alchemical experiment.

“There,” you huffed. “Finally.” And then went quiet and a bit concerned. Because apparent Song Immunity or otherwise, the thing was still hugely impressive and scary looking. His claws definitely wouldn’t have any problem picking the leftover bits of you out of his teeth, and you knew well enough that if he dragged you into the depths with that powerful tail of his, there would be no resurfacing.

The Siren too was using this time to glare at you like you were somehow a threat to be taken seriously. Which was half flattering, half pretty funny.

“Well…” you said after a long moment. “I should get going, I suppose.”

You made your way to your feet in the mucky sandbar and started heading off to see where you’d been stranded. You could feel the Siren’s heavy gaze on you the whole while, and decided he was probably trying to figure out if you’d taste better paired with seaweed or a nice jellyfish spread.

.

.

The pair of you had been stranded on a small, crescent, islet that couldn’t even rightly call itself an island. You were able to walk from its curling east to west coasts in just under fifteen minutes, and that was at a meandering pace where you stopped to peer into all kinds of little grottos and rocky formations. There was some vegetation at the heart of it—short palm trees and tufts of grassy knolls—and thankfully a few deep divots that had collected some still rainwater, but otherwise it was entirely boring and stupid. Not even any weird tortoises or anything meandering about to make friends with.

By the time you circled back around to your original stranding point, you had fully expected the Siren to have flipped you the metaphorical bird and fucked off back into the ocean, never to be seen again. Instead, he was still stretched out in the shallows of the bay, carefully fanning his long tail out in the seafoam and picking through the mess of it with his pointy claws.

He reminded you of a beta fish—with wide, flowing, fins that looked far more like silk than skin or scales. The tips were a deep, plum purple that gently faded from near black to violet and finally a vivid sort of lilac at their junction. The bulk of his tail looked like it could be made from literal gemstones with the way it shimmered in the morning light (gems that had perhaps been a bit dinged and/or literally torn out in chunks from where he may or may not have been smashed into the rocky shore curtesy of your terrible hogtie, but who’s to say).

There were jagged cuts lining the right half of his pale torso. They oozed a strange sort of silver ichor that was probably some kind of mystical merman blood, but you absolutely refused to get close enough to try and find out. The fins framing his pelvis were tangled and thin looking, and the sweeping ones that trailed all the way down to the tip of his tail were battered and torn. Clearly pulled to bits by your handy, dandy lasso skills. Which… was still tied up at the base of them. Huh. You’d assumed he’d be able to slice through all that knotwork without issue. But maybe…

You approached the Siren cautiously. You caught the exact moment he must have realized you’d returned because the fins along the sides of his head flattened like the ears on a pissy cat and he turned on you with a very dramatic snarl that probably sounded all sorts of menacing.

“Hello,” you greeted, and the merman spat something that you assumed was probably a very polite ‘fuck right off.’

You nodded because, well, fair enough. And then pointed to his injured fins and the waterlogged ropes still twisted up around the heart of them.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

He shouted something no doubt very indignant and then was back to hissing at you. Which definitely didn’t sound like an agreement not to immediately murder you on the spot.

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Your loss, I suppose.”

Well, your loss, really. Keeping a wounded Siren around was just asking for trouble. Their pods were viciously protective for one thing, and that wasn’t even taking into account the poachers and rivals who’d be more than keen to come sniffing after the fresh trail of blood in the water. Maybe you could find a big stick or something and just, I don’t know, push him back into the ocean and be done with it.

The thought must have shown on your face, because suddenly he was smacking his tail against the sandbar and spitting something that you very much assumed was a demand along the lines of ‘you are going to take accountability for this.’

Which absolutely no way in Hell. He’d kidnapped you sort of, so that made you his problem, thank you very much.

You felt your stomach gurgle, and it must have been pretty loud going off the stink eye he sent your way. You turned your nose up at him and went about collecting the various critters that had been washed ashore in his tenor’s tantrum.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly as you worked on scaling the tuna with the knife from your belt—making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so.

The Siren sneered at you and went back to grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

The rest of the afternoon became a sort of pissing contest between the two of you to see who could earn the title of Bitchiest Beach Bitch. You thought you were definitely winning with the whole ‘eating something that could have been his long-lost cousin’ thing, but then he went and swamped the entirety of the small fire you built (and all of said ‘cousin’ being cooked over it) with one sweep of his tail, so now you were at the very least tied. You set up a nice little shaded hutch out of driftwood and ferns to escape the sun, he called down seagulls to shit all over it and pick it to pieces. He tried to roll around to reach some of the tighter fibers tangled in his pectoral fins, and you chucked rocks at him until he reared on you with a scream that had all the hairs on your arms standing on end. Y’know. Perfectly mature things like that.

That night you curled up beside a tall, jagged rock just at the outskirt of the bay—determined to get some shut eye but to also keep within range of your newest pest in case he decided to try and pull something sneaky. But every time you’d just about settled in to sleep, the shallow tide would lap against your toes in harsh shush shush shushes that had you furrowing you brow until you finally had enough and sat up to see what all the hubbub was about.

The Siren was tossing around in the shallows like a fish in a net—throwing his long body against the bindings and flailing like his life depended on it. And as much as he’d definitely deserved to get caught up in your unintentional hogtie, watching something as large and no doubt powerful as he was wriggling around like a worm on a hook was… Well. Something soured a bit in your gut as you watched him give one, final, great buck against his bindings before collapsing back into the shallows in a circle of seafoam. He panted against the surface of the water, the tips of his pale hair dripping down in a curtain around his haggard face, and you could see a fine tremor running along his shoulder blades.

You turned back to your rock and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes, fighting the absolute batshit insane urge to feel bad for a monster who had literally tried to drag you to your death less than twenty-four hours ago.

The water was calm and still for the rest of the night.

.

.

The next morning, you picked up a few of the crabs who had crawled up to shore and went about getting them clean and fit for eating. You glanced at the Siren, who was busy preening over his janky fins and fussing over his hair. It was entirely unfair that you probably looked like a half-drowned rat, and yet this creature that wasn’t even meant to exist on the surface was somehow managing to put himself together well enough to rival the courtesans you’d seen meandering around some of the wealthier coastal towns.

You stared at the crabs. There were three of them. It wasn’t really sharing if it was meant to be a bribe to keep him from eating you whole. Or at least, that’s what you reassured yourself as you cautiously tiptoed back to the water’s edge.

The Siren swiveled on you with a snap of something that looked sort of like a ‘What?!’ and you held up one of the gutted crabs in offering.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…” You waved the limp crab awkwardly.

The Siren rolled its purple eyes and said something fast and sharp that you couldn’t really parse. Something, something, not, something, something, are crust—Something, something, are you that stupid? (you recognized the impressions of those words well enough to mouth them even in your sleep).

“Look, do you want it or not?” you interrupted, and he bristled—all those delicate, violet, fins flaring up like a porcupine’s spikes.

The Siren crossed his arms stiffly and pointedly turned in the other direction with a mutter of something you had no hopes of catching.

“Whatever,” you snapped and went to bite into your meal. Only to immediately forget that these pointy little fuckers still had their shells on them. You reeled back with a yelp as you stabbed a million, tiny, carapace-shaped holes in your tongue.

The fucking Siren had the gall to turn back around so that you could see him laughing at you.

.

.

That night he was back to flipping around in the shallows like a miniature hurricane.

You counted out the waves sloshing against your heels, telling yourself you’d intervene in his self-destructive tsunami once it hit one hundred. And then it became two, then three. You shifted hesitantly to peek over the rock’s edge and watched him curl into himself like some terribly wounded creature before shaking himself out of the fog of pain that had clearly settling over his nerves, and then continued with his nonsense.

You hurled a big, pink seashell at his head and he whipped on you like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth and raring for a fight. When he lunged forward with the waves—seething with hatred, and blame, and nearly crashing onto his already shredded front in the process, something angry in your snapped.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you demanded, stomping perhaps a bit closer than would be rational. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

The Siren roared something back and slapped his tail in the surf. Static zipped along your cheeks and you grit your teeth. He glared at you bitterly and then began to repeat one word over and over—slow and angry.

‘Eeeeehhh-Pppe-llllll’ said his lips. Strong and harsh with the shape of it.

And then he was back to spewing all kinds of rapid-fire vitriol that you wouldn’t have bothered to keep track of even if you could. Something in his expression shifted almost quicker than you could notice and he lifted his massive tail out of the water. He smacked the fins in your direction and pointedly jabbed a clawed finger at the creases of them—where delicate, silky, tendrils met strong, gem toned, muscle. Where the purple was light and clean. A pale, shiny, lavender. Almost just like—

“That kid?” you frowned. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

He sneered again and pointedly sent a splash of seawater into your face.

“You—” you grit your teeth. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. For all the good it would do. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

The Siren’s face twisted up like you’d force fed him soured milk, and he looped back around with a dramatic fwoosh of water to dive into the shallows. It was maybe two or three feet deep at best, and he was barely submerged. Not to mention how utterly ridiculous it looked to see a creature that was no doubt usually the peak of grace and athleticism reduced to flopping belly first into the waves with his proverbial legs tied up behind him. But you recognized a door slamming in your face when you saw it, no matter the species. Fine. Let him be a petty bastard. He could rot away in the sandbar for all you cared.

.

.

The next day you woke up with goosebumps crawling up and down your limbs.

There were all sorts of gulls crash-landed in the sand around you and more sad, little, sea creatures gasping on the beach than you dared to count. You shoved a particularly chubby octopus back into a tidepool as you passed and wondered just what sort of nonsense your co-strandee was getting up to now.

The Siren was circling the bay with his head held high above the low waves—lips parted and clearly caterwauling like a dying porpoise. The surface of the water trembled with whatever was making its way out of his mouth, and he looped and looped around the shores. It reminded you of the time you’d seen a whale calf separated from its pod. It had gotten trapped in a shallow inlet when the tides had changed, and your ship had been anchored just off the same coast. You’d watched it circle and circle, lifting its heavy snout to snort sharp jets of water into the air. Deuce had passed you a scribbled note when you’d asked him what it sounded like.

‘It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.’

There was a moment where the Siren paused in his paces and tilted his head. The fins there flared out to the side, like he was listening for something. But after a long moment the spines drooped back against his damp hair and he went back to his singing an aria to no one.

‘It’s looking for its family,‘ Riddle had signed to you when you’d asked him why the calf didn’t simply leave once the tides had turned in its favor. ‘This is where they last saw it, so this is where it will stay.’

“Maybe they forgot about him already,” you mused petulantly, turning back towards the center of the islet to try and scavenge up something to eat from all the poor creatures who had collapsed beneath your nemesis’s wailing.  

The bitter thought wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it ought to be.

.

.

That night, the waters were still.

You squinted suspiciously at the merman curled in the shallows of the bay. He’d pulled himself half-out of the water, resting his more human looking bulk in the soft sand as gentle waves lapped at his tail. He slept on his front with his arms crossed beneath his pointed chin—his unbound fins sticking up behind him in a way that deliriously reminded you of bedhead. You watched him carefully for nearly an hour, searching for any tightness in his muscles or change in his breathing that might indicate he was faking it. But as the evening stretched on and he never lurched awake to try and gauge your eyes out, you assumed he might actually be properly resting.

He'd been swimming in circles all day—the aborted, stuttering, beats of his bound tail looking painful even by your non-tail-having standards. Eventually the tremors along the ocean had grown stuttered and strange, like perhaps his voice was giving out on him. And once that had happened, he’d curled up exactly where he was now. And hadn’t moved since.

You stared at the Siren hesitantly. He was certainly in enough of a state that you could probably pull off that whole ‘shoving him into the depths with a stick’ thing. He’d probably just let you do it—sink to the bottom in a mess of shredded fins and tangled twine and never rise again.

You gnawed at your lip, feeling something unpleasantly hot and sticky twist up your stomach.

The knife glinted between your fingers and you thought of crying whales and of the crew that you already missed so much that it felt like a gnawing chasm had opened in your chest.

You huffed out a miserable sigh and lamented for not the first time in your life that you really were just so fucking stupid sometimes. And then you were cautiously making your way down towards the waterline and the sleeping Siren sprawled out in the sand. Slowly—so very, very slowly—you tiptoed towards the mer and tried to get a quick glance at what amounted to the worst of the damage.

The rope had been thin and long, and the more he’d struggled, the more he’d dug the twine into his fins. You reached forward at half speed and slipped the blade into one of the too-tight creases beneath the bindings. You winced a bit in sympathy at the raw, pink skin beneath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to just rip the fibers away. He’d probably just ended up tugging them over and over against the oozing wounds beneath.

The first strand broke beneath your fingers with something that almost felt like a pop. Like seams ripping on a shirt. You glanced quickly at the sleeping Siren to confirm he was still lost to the world and not gearing up to bite your fingers off at the knuckle, and then continued making your way through the worst of it. It reminded you a bit of the time Ace had accidentally snared a sea turtle in one of his fishing nets and the lot of you had spent the better part of an hour slowly working the thing free of the seemingly endless tangles. You delicately worked the tightest edges away from the harsh indentations they’d left against his scales and peeled back the muckier bits with enough gentleness to avoid mangling anymore of his already battered fins.

The last of the rope finally came away with a satisfying, wet weight and you let it fall to the sand beside you with a pleased nod. Now you could let Mister Merman swim away in the morning with no unpleasantly gross sense of moral obligation weighing down your consciousness. Maybe he’d even be thankful enough to look at you with something other than a venomous glare for once. Certainly nothing like the one leveled at you right now. And—

Oh.

You didn’t even have time to properly gasp before you were being flipped and pinned into the wet sand. The Siren loomed over you, digging his black claws into your shoulder until you could feel the first pricks of blood breaking the surface. He snarled in your face, the curtain of his pale blonde hair shadowing his eyes in something so dark it was nearly black. The brilliant purple cast off his glowing irises were like little spots of stars in an otherwise empty night sky.

He leaned forward, teeth bared, and then some sort of tight expression flickered over his face. He paused, brow tugging together steep and angry. He hunched down once more, fangs at the ready, and then ducked back out. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear fog from his brain, and then he was snapping his canines at you all over again.

The Siren reared back with a booming snarl that sent ripples through the soft tide lapping at your ankles. He turned with one, final, icy glower and dove back into the shallows, disappearing beneath the surface in a flash of amethyst scales. He flicked his tail sharply as he went, and one of the tattered fins snapped against your nose with enough of a crack to make you yelp.

You sat up in disbelief, rubbing at your aching skin and watching in outright consternation as the great predator of the oceans swam tight laps beneath the warm waters of your little lagoon—fins occasionally cresting over the surface to smack pointed fistfuls of water into your gaping face.

Deliriously, one of The Rose Queen’s hundreds of nonsensical rules bounced about your head. Happy to fill the otherwise entirely empty space behind your eyes.

‘Never save a Sea Serpent on a Sunday,’ Riddle had demanded, hands at his hips. ‘No Serpents, or Sea Horses, or Sirens to speak of.’

‘Man,’ you thought wildly, brain high on adrenaline and static as you watched one of the aforementioned Sirens swan about like he hadn’t probably just been a half second away from gnawing on your literal bones. ‘If I get out of this alive, Captain’s definitely gonna collar me this time.’

.

.

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1

[wroteclassicaly]

Summary: You’re desperately possessive of your boyfriend, Steve Harrington.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, NSFW, mutual masturbation, mentions of smut, and MORE!

Word count: 2,262

A/N: I’ve missed so badly, and this idea would not leave me alone!! Can’t stop thinking of him or that new set photo! I hope you enjoy, my loves! ❤️

“No. You’re not allowed to touch me, only look at me.”

It was absolutely comical, your boyfriend’s reaction to that statement, and you’d laugh if you weren’t so worked up, wound to your core in the need to claim him, your tongue practically hanging out, saliva pooling in your mouth, latched onto a possessive prowl. He knows not to speak unless spoken to. What a good boy. You let him know this.

“What a good baby boy, Steve.” His full name, that coupling praise, causes his knees to knock together, making him hiss as his sensitive and heavy balls get caught in the crossfire.

You observe him once more, like the finest, most priceless work of art in a high security museum. His large feet, those hair legs and equally hair covered thighs — firm and muscular, a testament to his past routines, his current ones, and all the fighting of otherworldly creatures. Then there’s the rest of him; biceps that tan in the summer, worked hard from countless battles, pieced together by defined, massive hands, fingers so thick and long that he should be fined for indecent exposure, that one lone vein that’s woven around his forearm, one you’ve traced many times with your fingers and tongue alike, his perky nipples, almost hidden in that chocolate jungle growing out of his chest, working together to provide the most perfect torso — not overly built, but enough to know that he keeps himself up, that pudge of stomach that rests atop his belt, pushes out his shirt at the navel, right where that deeply rich happy trail nearly ends, miles upon miles of freckles and moles, one’s you aren’t sure even Steve knows about. Luckily enough, you’re here to discover, to inform. You can’t ever forget his back, how it’s mapped out in marks, scars, sometimes scratches from where he’s fucking you so deep you need to carve into to latch on, or how it moves with whatever he’s doing, muscles visible through gorgeous flesh.

His hair is ever changing, sometimes long at its nape, curls drifting here and there. But the tousled fluff remains the same, even when it’s wet from a shower or the rain, doused in perspiration, or torn into by your eager hands. It helps showcase his neck (your ultimate weakness), structured tendons - skin scarred and stubble scattered, moles and freckles there to be tasted, scoped into. It all works into his beautiful face; those pouty and perfect lips, ones that have made you see several galaxies and held you by their whispered captures. To the bridge of his nose, the shape of his jaw line, his beautiful, crooked smile, and his mossy, caramel colored irises that have stared, glared, worried and cried, shrouded by eyelashes that a man should not be able to possess.

And then there’s that sweet and soft, fat ass that you’ve often spent time between, when you’re not sliding your hand into the back of his pockets, squeezing, clinging to - you name it, you’ve done it to Steve Harrington’s ass. What gets your mouth watering outer limits, is those heavy balls, nestled on either side of that girthy, long cock. Surrounded by a bush to match his chest hair, Steve’s own personal monster has been responsible for a lot of self-pleasing, can’t sit down, I’m limping, first time squirting, desperate - nights. Pink around the cut tip, one long vein to match his forearm, it’s no secret with how it sits in his clothing, even if you weren’t visibly in awe of it right at this very moment.

You’re pretty sure that there’s not one body made that even comes close to how pretty Steve Harrington’s is.

“Honey? Please, I need you to tell me what you want me to do. I’m looking at you, I just need you to tell me.”

His honey-hot voice warms you like a blanket fresh from the dryer, soaked in his apple and cedarwood scent. It breaks you from your Steve Harrington mental textbook, and you stare him down. He’s fully naked on the newly added armchair to his bedroom, his thighs spread wide, feet planted on the floor. His chest is heaving sporadically, already glistening in the sweat of desperation, his new silver chain hanging from his neck, reflecting, one massive hand resting on his sternum, scratching, the other wrapped around his base, his fingertips barely grazing around the girth. You practically purr, shoving your lace panties down your legs — your final article of clothing remaining, Steve’s eyes drifting from your tits that are exposed, nipples hard, to your thighs as they spread apart for him.

You’re not embarrassed, not even as your folds noisily separate, a webbed string stretching from one thigh to the other, getting caught on your cunt, which is swollen, putting you entirely on display. The power that you’re drunk on when Steve’s hazel irises vanish into completely blown pupils — it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. He squeezes himself, tongue lolling out to wet his un-kissed lips. “Jesus-fucking-Christ.”

“What?” You mock. “Never seen a pussy this good before, even with your body count, Harrington?”

“Baby, she was just a girl I knew, I told you it wasn’t anything —“

“Shut your pretty little mouth until I ask you a question, Steven. Yeah? You gonna listen or make this worse on yourself? Remove your hand from your dick.”

You hold up one finger to silence him from asking again what he should do next after he obeys, before you’re gliding it along the wet seam of yourself. Fuck, you’re soaking wet from all of this teasing, this tense intensity, and seeing Steve spotlighted like your own personal feast. He nearly growls, his toes curling, cracking, as you push one finger into your cunt without breaking eye contact. He’s squirming on his chair, cock jumping, slapping against his stomach, leaving behind a smear of pre-cum. Your hand slides across your stomach and grabs at your breast, rolling and squeezing, mouth parting, eyes rolling back, and you start fucking your self on your finger.

Lost in it all, eyes glazed over when they open and fixate on him, your jaw is unhinged and you lose control. “My cunt is so fucking wet for you, Steve. I love you watching me. Feels so good, baby. Fuck, fuck — yeah.”

He feels his heartbeat accelerate, ramming itself in echoes against his ribcage, turning his blood into lava, melting his bones to ash. He’s licking at the corner of his mouth, the top, fist clenching across his chest. But he’s still listening, privy to the game here. You want him to beg for it, but can you hold out on that?

Driven by your playful, primal, possession, you slide in another finger and groan, your next few words punched out. “This isn’t enough. Need your cock, Steve.”

You ignore his slip up, his smart mouth, driven by raw, animalistic cravings. “Come over here and get it then, honey.”

A few pumps and you’re speaking to him again, shaking your head. “What I want you to do, right now, is to touch yourself for me. Because the only way you’re going to cum tonight, is by your own hand.”

He starts to protest, but something about this, the refusal, however, an offered and open show — it does things to him he isn’t prepared for.

“Yeah, yeah — okay. Whatever you want. Can I fuck you after? Make you feel good, make it up to you?”

You smirk lazily, letting your opposite hand drop from your breast and part yourself for better friction. He’s already spitting on himself without permission after his question, tugging eagerly, sloppy and drenched, his massive hand slick with it all. You’ve never been more jealous of his palm.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with you needing to take back control, prove a point, get your dick wet, now would it?” You know that’s not the case. Steve has always been the most giving lover you’ve ever been with, and you’ve not had too many. But still…

He fixes you with that bitchy, breathless-confined, trademark glare. “What do you think?”

“Awful cocky for someone who’s jerking himself off, aren’t you?” This’ll shut him up. You add in a third finger and immediately cry out. It hurts, you knew it would, and it gives him pause.

“Honey, don’t do that without — Goddammit, can I please just lick your clit? Help you so you don’t hurt yourself?” He’s paused, thumb over his head, tendons flexing in his wrist from holding back.

His words have you bucking into your own hand, unable to level off your breathing pattern when you speak.

“Pretty Steve, you think I don’t use three fingers when you’re not around? I’ll have to take an instant for you next time, won’t I?” You stumble through.

“Fuck, you better do that, honey. Killing me here.”

“Maybe don’t be so nice to one of your former bimbos next time? I’m sure she can get another person to help her pick up a heavy box —“

“Sweetheart, you know she bought our old movie collection, it was just me being nice. I was the only one working. I barely remember her.”

“Crystal Abrams. Told everyone how you fingered her freshman year during the pep rally. You know, the one where you and your friends thought it was funny that I read my poem for English class. Then stuck copies of it all over the lockers when the school paper published it? Oh, and… you went on a date with her when you first started at the video store.”

You’re over it. Both of you are aware of that, but it still is enough for Steve to attempt to get up and reach out. You shake it off, smiling softly to show him that this is what you need, that it’s okay, but that he’s yours and he needs to be reminded of it. You were on him the second he got back home to his place, waiting for him, a plan already formulated since you watched him help her with her box of old movies. He wasn’t the problem, your kind Steve, the one that stole your heart - no, it was her overly flirtatious demeanor that unlocked your personal beast.

“Shit, honey, m’ sorry, alright? So fucking apologetic…” He begins to stroke himself, thumb rubbing light circles over his head, spreading his arousal around, his fingers catching and using it to glide his way.

You grin at his word usage and start fucking yourself, scattering your cream down to your knuckles. Your other hand leaves and grabs for your own throat, before settling on pinching your nipple and rolling your breast. You watch him get to work matching your pace, nodding, pleading beneath his breath, his spare hand finding his ballsack and cradling, tightening. His abdomen is tensing, legs shaking, throat muscles taunt and closing in as his vision begins to darken, lost in your face and the pleasure you’re giving one another by giving it to yourselves.

There’s barely any room to stretch on his desk chair, opposite of the room from him, and you’re needy, well aware you’ll want to be held the second that you come. And Steve is slowing down, tilting his head. “You wanna come over here and finish?”

The desk chair spins behind you and smacks into his dresser as you abandon it and stride towards his awaiting lap. His cologne, his aftershave, and that damp smell of sex knocks at your cheek and causes you to open your mouth, attempting to taste it. You clamber with care onto his lap, your back against his chest, legs spread, held heavily on either side of his thighs. He keeps you widely open, available to yourself. His balls stick to your ass, your cunt dousing his cock, that he holds away from your pussy, despite every pulsing attempt it makes to snap forward — his body knows where he belongs.

Your head drops back onto his shoulder and he runs his nose along your neck, over your throat, and paths around your jawline, his lips leaving kisses on your cheek, to behind your ear. His knuckles slide over the seam of you, his entire fist messy with combined essences, and he starts to pleasure himself, encouraging you, spare hand hovering over your breast. His voice is scorching hot, like a butter soaked syrup, rich and sugary. “Can I hold this for you?”

“Mhm-hmm.” Is all you reply with, three fingers disappearing back into your cunt, bodies in close proximity giving feather light touches to one another.

He grasps your breast in his huge palm, voice nearly whispering, “You gonna cum for me?” He’s topping from the bottom, but you’re beyond caring, struggling to stroke that spot that he gets to without issue. “I’m so close for you, honey. Got me so hard denying me, talking to me like this.”

“Steve —“

“I’m no one else’s but yours, baby — I promise you…”

And as you come undone in the arms of one another, at your own hands, mouths hovering, before kisses are taken deeply and roughly, you know that you’d rather die than let anything happen to him or let him disappear from you without him knowing how he is everything and then some…

After you’ve calmed in his arms, he kisses you for a while, works on re-lighting both of your fuses, and takes you to bed, making good on his end of the promises.

// Eat me paragraph //

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things one shot #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n

[bloompompom]

Trending Now! Beloved, international pop sensation was spotted getting hot and heavy with the lead vocalist of Devil's Paradise, Eren Jaeger, at an after-party, sparking rumors of a secret fling. The unlikely couple has yet to comment publicly on the status of their relationship, but their scandal-worthy PDA alone implies they must know each other very well. 

Ha! That couldn’t be any further from the truth.

♡ pairings: rockstar!eren jaeger x popstar!female reader, eren jaeger x historia reiss ♡ content: ~7.2k word count. enemies-to-lovers, jealousy, suggestive themes, lots of explicit language (they like f-bombs sorry), slut shaming, mentions of alcohol. reader discretion advised. ♡ previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

★ Chapter Four ★

One step forward, and a million steps back.

It felt like the world had started up again when the creative director clapped his hands, calling for a five-minute break. The resounding sound echoed through you as everyone began to buzz around like flies.

You blinked, hard, snapped from whatever trance you had to be in—the one that gave you that glossy, no-thoughts-behind-those-eyes look the camera loved.

You blinked again when an assistant shoved a hand in front of your face. He offered to help you to your feet, as you were still on the floor, looking more or less comparable to a prowling jungle cat. Or better yet, you felt like you had been spilled and splattered, just waiting for someone to come and clean you up.

You declined his hand, politely. He took you by the elbow anyway after one of your heels wobbled underneath you. 

“I mean it: five minutes.” The director looked down at his wrist, checking a watch that wasn’t really there. “Four minutes and fifty-nine seconds now. Fifty-eight, fifty-seven—”

Cool silk hit your shoulders as another assistant draped a robe over you, pathetically thin for such a frigid studio. She even held the sleeves out for you, one at a time, ensuring you had to move as little as humanly possible, as if you were something made of glass. As if you would break.

You cinched the robe’s ties around your waist. When you finished, a water bottle landed in the palm of your right hand. The assistant that tossed it to you, the third one in the last thirty seconds, and reminded you to stay hydrated.

And yes, they were always this fussy over you. And when it came to photo shoots, they were always extra fussy. This one was for your upcoming single, so it had to be perfect.

Pieck was off by herself in the corner, her back turned to you. Curiously, you made your way over to her, cracking and twisting the bottle’s lid to take a sip as you went.

If you were to be honest, it was more than a sense of curiosity; the painfully optimistic part of you hoped she would allow you to have the rest of the day to yourself. It was your week of vocal rest, after all. 

But, of course, there was never a break with Pieck. Even for those measly five minutes, you couldn’t power down your brain because you found her crouched over her iPad. Devil’s Paradise (Eren specifically) was on the screen. You could see it from feet away. 

You had caught her doing this before, stalking the band like some obsessive fan girl. She called it studying, but you called it useless. ‘Eren is about as deep as a kiddie pool,’ you had told her. Shallow and superficial. Why try to keep digging when you could already see the bottom?

You let out a groan loud enough to catch her attention. “Can’t I go one day without seeing Eren’s stupid face?” Then you took another swig of water, felt it trickle its way down your throat, like it could wash the taste of his name off your tongue. 

Pieck didn’t reply. She just returned to watching the live stream. You didn’t need to see her face to imagine her scowl vividly. 

Devil’s Paradise, the band that came out of nowhere, the underdogs, who won their category’s Best Album Award, were now everywhere. You were sure this was the first of many, many performances they would have to do—tons of interviews, too. 

Oh, the interviews. So. Many. Interviews.

Your eyes fell on Mikasa next, and your face softened. It was only slight, no greater than a flicker, because the camera soon panned to Eren beside her. She smiled brightly at him, and he returned it, looking just as sparkly. You tried to think if you’d ever seen him smile like that—that big—before. Only for the cameras, for your faux relationship, but you weren’t dumb enough to believe those flashy grins were genuine. But this smile was. It was the kind that made your eyes squint and your mouth open wide enough to let a laugh slip through your teeth; you could hear it when he sang. It bothered you. 

“I don’t know how she’s friends with him,” you grunted, gesturing toward the screen. “Let alone how she puts up with him on the regular.”

Speaking of fan girls, there were more than plenty there. Cramped and piled atop one another, pushing and threatening to tip over the barrier around the stage just for the chance to touch Eren. You weren’t sure if it made you want to laugh or vomit in your mouth.

“All you do is complain about Eren.” Pieck looked at you from over her shoulder. “Eren this, Eren that. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were an old married couple.”

She knew that would get under your skin. Defensively, you sucked in a breath and complained, “Well, I don’t know why you have to watch this, and right now of all times.”

Simultaneously, you and Pieck said, “It’s literally my job.” She said the phrase all the time, and after the years spent together, she was easy enough to predict. Still, it made her huffy.

“Can’t you do it somewhere else?” You eased your voice. “Please.”

She opened her mouth to say ‘no,’ but before she could, your newest intern popped in. Pieck told you that partnering with a local college for an internship opportunity would look good for your image. Always with your image. But you could admit it was nice to have a fresh face around, even if her only job was to run and get your coffee. 

“Levi Ackerman texted you,” she quietly interrupted. 

You reluctantly flopped your hands in the air. “One day. Just one day. That’s all I ask.”

It was rather dramatic, and Pieck quickly consoled the frightened student. “It’s nothing you did.” She glowered at you. “She’s just in a mood. You can ignore her when she’s like this.” 

Still hesitant, voice shaking—you almost felt bad about it—she briefly explained what you already knew. Eren had texted you last night requesting (demanding) the jacket you ‘stole’ because it was a rental. You were tired and brushed it off. But now, it was apparently Levi’s turn since it was his duty to return it, not Eren’s. 

You waved it off with, “The jacket’s at my place, draped over the chair. You can’t miss it. It’s the only black thing there.” Otherwise, your living room was entirely white. Pristine. 

“Oh, no,” Pieck interrupted, like she had another bright idea of hers locked, loaded, and ready to fire. “Don’t make the newbie do your dirty work.” 

You wanted to correct her, but you couldn’t with said newbie standing right beside you. 

“You should do it,” Pieck urged. “Maybe even post a photo of you two together or something. You know your name trends whenever you’re with him. It’s advertising for your new single.”

You grumbled, so low that it was practically incoherent, even to yourself. Just angry, childish noises.

“I thought you’d want to see your boyfriend.” Pieck’s urgent eyes jumped to the intern, then back to you. You were blowing your cover. The last thing you needed was for some college girl to go around spreading gossip and telling the world you were snotty to Eren. If anything, you’d prefer the opposite to leak. Maybe then you could finally dump him. 

So, you smiled even though it physically hurt while you replied, “You’re right. It’s a nice excuse to spend some time with him.” You didn’t know which was worse, saying you wanted to see Eren or admitting Pieck was right. You sweetened the smile when you turned to the intern. “We’ve both just been so busy.”  

She gave a wary smile of her own, but it was enough for you to believe she bought it. Pieck patted her back, then told her to run off before she could realize the truth: that you and Eren were not, in fact, dating, and it was more like you were uncordial acquaintances. At most. 

In actuality—and this was something you’d never tell Pieck—the faux-lationship had been tolerable since the award show. You could at least hold a conversation, though limited to the same discussions you’d have with the stranger doing your nails. So—thoughtful pause—where did you say you were from? Oh, I have a friend from there. Like a toddler taking their first steps, it was fumbling and awkward, but you were still managing to get somewhere. 

You returned home, pouted a bit because you desperately wanted to stay, then grabbed the jacket and tucked it beneath your arm. You hadn’t touched it since that night, after you slipped it from your shoulders and questioned why, in that moment, you wanted to take it with you. It was strange, like it didn’t belong, so you didn’t touch it. 

You drove yourself to Eren’s place. You didn’t mind it, actually; not just the moment of solitude and silence, but the drive itself. You didn’t venture to this side of the city often. You had almost forgotten how beautiful it was. Ocean waves glimmered in streaks of sunlight. Lush greenery splattered the horizon with hues of summery pinks and yellows, every bloom fresh. And from Eren’s doorstep, there was only the wispy sound of palms tickling your ears. All of it stood in stark contrast to your life in the city.

You found his house easily enough thanks to Levi. He forwarded you the address, telling you he made sure the right people knew to expect you—at least, that was your interpretation of ‘no one should cause you any trouble.’ Which made it sound a whole lot like someone was going to cause you trouble, but you had a feeling Levi enjoyed being cryptic. 

It was this loft-style home, constructed from stacked stone and clean, walnut-colored wood. When you said ‘loft-style,’ that didn’t mean it was small by any means, but it was still the right size for one. Frankly, you were shocked by it. You would have guessed he’d buy something more boastful after suddenly plunging head-first into fame. 

You didn’t announce your arrival beforehand. You didn’t know you were supposed to. And as was the rightful consequence, Eren didn’t answer on your first knock. Or your second, for that matter.

“‘No one should cause you any trouble.’ Yeah, right,” you huffed.

The house had these giant windows on every wall, and still, you couldn’t peek inside because of their tint. Not that you were about to go through all that effort over a jacket.

When you knocked a third time, it was with the blunt of your fist. You waited out another impatient moment, then quickly realized that driving out here was useless. You couldn’t wait to tell Pieck that you were right. 

Just before you turn away, a camera, smack in the center of the wall, caught your attention. You didn’t know how you missed it, but you debated going on as if you had, plopping the expensive jacket on the ground. After a pause, you decided to give Eren one last chance because you were a nice person. You pressed one of the buttons, then another, unsure of which would ring him. 

The only thing you knew it did for certain was trigger a blinking red light, prompting you to ask, “Eren? Can you hear me?” 

You announced yourself and displayed the jacket for the camera. Could he even see it? God, you felt silly. Frustrated, too. It seeped into your voice when you said, “I’m here with the jacket you needed so desperately.”

Finally, there was a sign of life.

“What?” It wasn’t accusatory, but disoriented. Eren’s voice sounded muffled through the microphone. Even so, you knew he was far too groggy for two o’clock in the afternoon. “Why are you here?”

“I said,” you stressed, “I have your jacket. The one you’ve been bothering me about. Tell me you haven’t forgotten already.”

“I didn’t mean you had to bring it, like, now.”

“Well, Levi did.” There was a long, long pause. “So, are you going to let me in?”

Eren didn’t reply. You couldn’t believe it—well, maybe you could, knowing him. 

You darted a hand toward the button again. Before you could make contact, the quick swing of the door startled you. You jumped back as Eren made himself comfortable, leaning against the door with his arms folded across his chest. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed. You called him out for it.

“You look like crap.”

“I feel like it,” he replied, his voice as monotone as ever. 

You believed him. Greeted by the afternoon sun, his fluttering eyes could hardly stay open. The feeling was almost visceral. Just by looking at him, you could practically feel a throbbing in your temples and the ‘I’m never drinking again’ wretch of your stomach. Thinking about it now, the last time you said those very words was the morning after you met Eren. 

Still, he hadn’t snatched the jacket from you or slammed the door in your face (yet), so it couldn’t have been that awful. Perhaps you were a welcomed distraction to his wicked hangover. 

“So,” you drawled, forcing the jacket into his hands, finally ridding yourself of the damn thing. “Here you go.”

Eren looked from the jacket to you.

“You really came all the way here just to give this back?” His eyebrow raised as he spoke. It matched the snide curl of his lip. “Huh. You ought to be more careful. Someone might get the impression you actually wanted to see me.”

“Good one,” you said, faking a laugh. “That definitely won’t be an issue.” You took a pace back, then another. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“You’re the one who begged me to let you in.”

You didn’t beg.

He caught you mid-spin, ready to flee down the steps and back to your car, off on your merry way.

“You don’t have to act shy about it. You’re allowed to check the place out, if you want. We are dating, after all.”

Sarcasm or not, you despised the sentence, and you definitely weren’t ‘acting.’ But despite how good it would feel to ignore him and strut back to your car, a part of you—a very, very small part—wanted to see the inside of his house, to learn what Eren Jaeger was about. Though you were already sure you had a pretty good idea. 

Of course, you didn’t want to admit your curiosity; you couldn’t bear to say the words, ‘Sure, I’d like to come inside,’ let him hold the door open for you and everything. So after a short pause and a flagrant eye roll, you stepped past him, tossing back, “Maybe you’re the one who should be more careful. Someone might get the impression you actually like me.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” His face went dull again, so fast that you must have made up whatever brightness you thought was there. You frowned but continued inside anyway.

Eren excused himself to freshen up, and by that, you meant he said he’d be right back after you asked him if he had just woken up.

“Have you even brushed your teeth yet?” you playfully asked.

“No,” he said. Your nose wrinkled. “What? I wasn’t expecting company. I just told you: you woke me up.”

“You should really take that up with Levi then.”

Once you could no longer hear his footsteps, you used the brief interlude to poke your head around. 

If you hadn’t seen the unweathered exterior, you would have thought the house was built years before it existed—walls with lots of character, black and white diner tile in the kitchen. Of course, like the outside, everything was crisp and brand new, down to every slick, black beam above your head.

It only made the punches of retro color bolder; you kept glancing over to the couch. Its pretty rust color caught your attention, the back of it neatly tufted though covered by a strewn shirt. None of the furniture appeared to be made within the last decade despite remaining in immaculate condition. Someone lacking a keen eye might glaze over it, but you recognized that none of this was easy to come by.

Both fittingly and stereotypically, Eren had some guitars displayed on the far wall. That was where he found you when he returned. You didn’t turn to look at him, only talking once you knew he was near. 

“Do you actually write your own songs, or is that just another bullshit marking tactic?”

Eren chuckled. Despite the crunchy delivery, he could tell you searching for a legitimate answer. “Yes, I actually write them.”

“I wish I could do that,” you hummed. “My name’s always listed beside my co-writer, but really, I barely get any say. Maybe changing a word or two, but that’s it. That way, I can honestly say I helped, as if that even mattered.”

Was your team really that desperate to keep you in line? Eren couldn’t imagine that was something you requested—to sacrifice your income, your ownership to a co-writer… just to be called generic.

He had no idea what to say now.

Choosing to take the optimistic approach, he said, “Well, it seems to have worked out for you so far. I mean, you’ll probably perform at the Super Bowl someday, right?”

You laughed at that, no more than a huff through your nose. “Is that your measure of success?”

He shrugged innocently. “I mean…”

It was the definition a ten-year-old would give, but you supposed he had a point, even if it was rather boyish.

Whatever was happening between you right then was snuffed out. Silence ensued. You kept your eyes busying over the guitars to avoid the building tension. 

Only when Eren spontaneously asked, “So, you don’t have a single song you’re passionate about? Or one that you’re proud of?” did you realize he was still stewing on your conversation.

“My dad always said passion projects were a waste of time,” you said, noting the wistfulness in your voice. 

“Every one of our albums is a passion project.”

Your eyes flickered to him, thinking you had offended him and this was about to turn into another argument. He only continued. 

“But I get it—the whole disappointed dad thing. My dad’s a doctor, so you can imagine how he felt when I told him I wanted to sing.” You chuckled a little at that. “But he gets it now, as much as he can. I’m not sure he would if I didn’t make something of myself. A parent’s love can be a bit conditional, can’t it?”

Eren’s words lingered in your mind. You tried to make sense of them, picking apart what he had shared with you and why. You let the sentiment hang heavy in the air. You didn’t allow it in. Your guard was as high as a watch tower, and you wouldn’t let him coax you into dropping it any time soon. You learned the hard way that he wasn’t the handle-with-care type. He liked to push his way in and mess up what wasn’t his. You bet he was also the guy who left hotel rooms in ruins, too, attributing it to his ‘rockstar lifestyle.’

You reached a hand toward one of the guitars, stopping short of touching it in case he was particular about them. When he didn’t stop you, you ran the tips of your fingers over the smooth wood. 

He was still at your side when he asked, “Do you play?”

You didn’t know when he became such a conversationalist. After a longer than necessary pause, you decided to answer. 

“More or less.” 

Based on his pause, you realized your answer wasn’t going to cut it. 

“I’ve been teaching myself. Only in my spare time, which, as you know, isn’t much.”

Before you even finished talking, Eren had started to take the guitar down from the wall.

“Show me what you can do.”

Your throat tightened. You scanned over his face. Once, then twice, and you couldn’t find any indication he was screwing with you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you even held a guitar; it had to be months ago. If Eren were to discover how rusty—no, how bad you were—he’d undoubtedly add it to his growing list of ways to embarrass you.

Your feet didn’t follow after him, but your eyes did. He made his way across the room, then expectantly turned to look at you. 

“It’s fine. I couldn’t.” You were stumbling over your words, trying to think how to crawl out of this hole you had dug. “Besides, I’m not even supposed to be here. I should probably get—”

“Yeesh,” Eren remarked. “Do you always talk this much when you’re nervous?”

“I’m not nervous!” It was a half-lie. You stopped toying with your fingers and proved it to him (and yourself) by waltzing right on past him. 

You sat on that pretty, vintage sofa—its fabric softer than you predicted—and waited for him to hand you the guitar. You didn’t let him lay the strap around your shoulder; you could manage that yourself.

“Good. Because it’s not like I’m gonna make fun of you.” He sounded just about as convincing as you did. A smirk dug into the corners of his cheeks. “Much.”

What did you say earlier?

Once you had adjusted the guitar comfortably in your lap, you slid your hand higher on the fretboard and felt the strings against the doughy tips of your fingers—a sensation you hadn’t experienced in a long while.

You looked up at Eren like you needed his permission. You stared at one another for a strange second, then eventually cleared your throat to ask, “What am I supposed to play?”

“I don’t know. Anything.”

That’s the problem—I don’t know ‘anything,’ at least not off the top of my head.

If your memory were a vault, you would have thought it had been raided and left barren, without even a penny left. Everything you had learned, everything you had taught yourself, vanished. You clammed up, the same way you did when someone asked about your favorite song or movie, and without fail, it was as if you had never consumed a piece of media in your life. How silly of you—able to sing for thousands upon thousands of people, but you couldn’t bring yourself to play the guitar in front of a single person. 

You were shrinking by the second. Eren must have sensed it, too. You expected him to ridicule you, but he only added, “Just show me what notes you know.”

That brightness was back. The very same that you swore you saw earlier on his face, you now heard in his words. His voice lifted, like he had thrown in a dash of sugar to help the bitter, ho-humness go down easier. You wouldn’t call it gentle, he wasn’t capable of that, but he did seem genuine. Truthfully, he had seemed genuine—maybe authentic was a better word—from the moment you entered his house. You didn’t know how to feel now that you recognized it for what it was. 

You sucked in a deep breath and told yourself you were only humoring him when you strummed a note. Another, too, as you learned the guitar, trying to remember how it was supposed to feel in your hands. It wasn’t like riding a bicycle, though; it felt entirely foreign. 

Your discomfort bled through you and onto every note like ink to paper. Everything felt wrong, down to the way you held Eren’s guitar, as if you were afraid of it. The more rigid you were, the more delicate your touch, the worse it sounded.

Eren let his head fall to one side. “Okay, I know you can do better than that.”

Perhaps it was his attempt at encouraging you, but it had the opposite effect. Your face was stricken with heat, your voice bordering into the embarrassed, whiny territory when you admitted, “I’m scared I’m going to break it.”

“Why would it break?” He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “C’mon, just play it.”

You brushed him off with a tiny ‘fine, fine’ and started to play what little you could recall. Then, surprisingly, it came back to you. Slowly, but it did—up until you tried to hit an F chord. You were actually trying this time, too, but it was less like a hit and more like a weak swing. Even when you were alone in your bedroom, you hadn’t nailed it yet, couldn’t get your fingers in the right spots, or make it sound right despite pressing down so hard it made your fingers sting. It would take time to build the finger dexterity and strength—time you didn’t have.  

After another good try, Eren blurted out, “You have to do this,” like he couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

He came in closer, not sitting on the couch but walking around the back of it. With eyes fixed on your hand placement, you didn’t need to look to know when he stood behind you, to feel it when he leaned in closer.

Eren touched you without an ounce of hesitation, no different than if he had done it a million times before. He took your hand into his and adjusted one of your fingers a little to the left. Then he wrapped his fingers over yours, pressing them down on the strings harder than you had. You didn’t feel it, as if your fingers were numb. In fact, it sort of felt like your entire body went numb.

“There,” Eren said. He didn’t take his hand off yours, maintaining the same amount of pressure as he instructed, “Now strum.”

It reminded you of when someone was so awful at dancing they’d have to stand on their partner’s shoes. But you did as you were told, and already it sounded cleaner than a moment ago. And the second time sounded even better. Eren’s hand was slow to leave yours, but when it did, the note still held.

Singing was second nature to you; you had done it since childhood. But learning a new skill as an adult was another beast. You couldn’t help but think how much better you’d be—how practicing would suck less—if you had someone to teach you. Just to help you jump through the beginner’s hurdles like this and get your feet off the ground. 

Whatever! That didn’t matter now. You were delighted by the whole thing, so much so that you strummed and strummed, practicing your new riff as if Eren wasn’t there, not thinking anything of it when he came to sit by you. You were busy thinking about the guitar in your hands, how you wanted to spend the rest of the day with your guitar back home, if you could find it. You prayed it wasn’t Pieck texting you when you felt your phone buzz. You ignored it for now, already scheming ways you could sneak lessons into your schedule without her noticing.

You kept on playing, long after you thought you would. You went on, waiting for Eren to cut you off, but he never did. Once you realized you were still strumming away to your heart’s content, you finally stopped.

“That was better.” You heard the excitement growing in your voice. “That was totally better, right?”

Embarrassingly enough, Eren couldn’t give you an answer. And if you were to ask him what he was thinking about just then, he couldn’t tell you that either. He couldn’t remember a damn thing, not a note of it. He couldn’t even tell you if your finger placement was correct or not because your hand had already returned to your side.

A cold wave of panic rushed over him as he blanked on what to say. Whatever he told you besides ‘I don’t know’ would be a lie, so he just hoped he would say the right thing because he wasn’t sure what was going to come out, honestly.

“That was—that was good.”

His voice wavered, but you didn’t deem it worthy of another thought because you were too focused on your little win for the day. You couldn’t even suppress the grin on your face. That may have been the first compliment Eren had ever given you, if you were excluding the backhanded ones, which you were. 

The thought skipped through your mind, and what followed was the same nausea you get on a rollercoaster, that whooshing feeling and all. 

You couldn’t bear to look him in the face any longer, so you dropped your gaze and willed yourself calm. You tried to ignore how close the two of you were—how close you had been for some time now. You tried to look anywhere else, even tried not to be obvious about it, but you could only think of his knee against yours. You hadn’t noticed it before, and now it was the only thing you could feel.

When you met his eyes again, you found they were already staring back at you. You half expected him to pull back and crack some snide comment. You expected him to do anything besides the one thing you—way down deep inside you—really expected but couldn’t admit. 

Your heart started to thump faster, louder, ringing in your ears. When your phone vibrated again, you didn’t hear it. 

You couldn’t stand Eren. Everyone knew that already; you had drilled it into their heads dozens upon dozens of times. To even reiterate it now was redundant. But that didn’t cancel out your attraction to him. It didn’t work like that, unfortunately. You could deny it as much as you wanted—and you had at least three times in the last minute. Such passion-fueled emotions lived on the same spectrum. Both could exist at once, even if they were at odds with each other. Whether you liked it or not, lust wasn’t like a light switch; you couldn’t just flip it on and off whenever you wished—and yes, you were still working to accept that little, annoying fact. 

Eren didn’t need to know that, though. He couldn’t because that would mean he won.

Why was it then that you couldn’t move or breathe? Why weren’t you recoiling back from him as if he were the pest you believed him to be? Your silence was deafening; you were sure it told him everything he needed to know.

Your brain was screaming at you, desperate to know what the hell you were doing, but your body—well, that was a completely different story. For once, the heat at the back of your neck was almost pleasant. It wasn’t fizzing with anger but burning a path down your spine. It kindled the crests of your cheeks with… excitement?

You gripped the neck of the guitar tighter. 

Nothing about Eren had ever seemed so simple, but right then, he was. Simple and close and beautiful. No fuss, no antics, no bullshit. Just green eyes that melted from piercing to soft somewhere between when you picked up the guitar and now, you didn’t know when. Maybe that was him, beneath all his peacocking. The real Eren. 

You went back to that night, when you first met. How could you not? You thought you had forgotten most of it (minus you-know-what), but you were flooded with the memory, the very same feeling eating away at you bit by bit. 

It was different now; you weren’t rattling off sleazy flirts, and he wasn’t flexing, both literally and figuratively, but you could still feel the warmth of the firepit on your leg; how your suffocating dress and his hand on your thigh made your chest go tight. You could even remember how he tasted, the slurry of spirits on his breath. He’d taste different now, and you found yourself craving it without knowing it, yearning to discover what you had missed out on. 

“Maybe you should get that,” Eren said, his voice all quiet now. 

You blinked a few times, gathered yourself—blamed the concerning slip-up on your need for a vacation—but still had no clue as to what he was talking about. He must have read it on your face because you watched his eyes flit past you, to your buzzing phone. How long had it been doing that?

You swallowed down the thick feeling in your throat, only acknowledging Eren with a small nod before reaching for your phone behind you.

Mikasa had called; you just missed it. While you thought of a reason for her to call, you noticed she texted you a few times earlier. Big picture-wise, all of this was out of the ordinary but certainly not outlandish. But your opinion flipped, almost as quickly as your heart sank, when you saw a message from Jean—through Instagram. He wouldn’t have your phone number because, unlike Mikasa, if there was a reason for him to reach out to you, you couldn’t think of a single one. 

You spent more time debating which to open first, the message from Mikasa or the one from Jean, than it would take to read them both. You went with Jean; it, understandably, piqued your interest more. 

It was the wrong pick. The message only read, ‘Have you talked to Mikasa?’ Useless outside of sinking your heart even lower than before, like it had left your body entirely and splat on the floor. 

Mikasa texted again. You swiped to open it. 

You read her text chain backward, but out of convenience, you will recite them in chronological order:

Hey, is now a good time for me to call?

?

I need to tell you something important.

Insert missed call here.

Eren and Historia were out together last night. I thought you deserved to know, just in case it leaks.

Anger struck you like a shard of ice, leaving you frozen. You hadn’t flinched. You weren’t even sure if you had blinked yet. You just sat there, staring at your phone screen—Eren couldn’t see it from here. There was no need for a rash decision; you only needed a second to compose yourself before—

“What’s wrong?”

In any other circumstance, it would have been the polite question to raise. Two words, two syllables. That was all it took for you to snap.

Perhaps you should be grateful Eren was right beside you, within perfect strangling proximity. Screw your composure, it wasn’t the time for it. You might as well get the inevitable argument out of the way.

“What’s wrong?” you barked back. It teetered on a scoff or a laugh—something of the sort. “You’re seriously asking me what’s wrong like you don’t know. You were with Historia last night. People saw the two of you together.”

Eren got this brittle look on his face, his lips gone tight. Where you would expect him to lie, he only went silent. Somehow, that felt even worse. It was the coward’s way out. 

You slithered out from beneath the strap and set the guitar on the cushion beside you. It didn’t need to become collateral damage. Unwilling to sit next to Eren for another second, you sprung to your feet and stood over him—looked down on him.

“One thing,” you seethed. “That was all I asked of you—”

Eren interrupted like the pedantic son of a bitch he was. “Technically, you asked two things of me.”

You continued as if it was nothing more than radio static. “You’re the reason I’m stuck in this mess, and you couldn’t be bothered to do this one tiny, little thing for me, could you?”

Then he laughed. He laughed!

“Because of me? You can’t be serious.” He sat himself a bit higher in his seat. He wouldn’t stand quite yet; he was trying to stay calmer, cooler, than you. It was another competition to him, but you could see through it. “I think we both know you were just as much a part of it as I was.”

You weren’t in the mood for splitting the blame, and you weren’t about to back down, either. He was the problem, not you. Right or not, you double-downed on your stance. You were emphatic about it, even as you paced around the room.

“If you weren’t you—if I had kissed anyone else—then it wouldn’t have mattered! I’m only here because I chose the worst possible person.”

Your logic was shaky at best, and Eren knew you knew it, too. You could tell by the way his eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of something nonsensical. He took a long breath, then stood from the couch. He didn’t come any closer, and he talked to you with his hands, palms to the floor. It reminded you of a hostage negotiator.

“Look, no one important saw. It’s not like we were out at an event. It was just a party.” He spoke like a hostage negotiator, too. But as he said the words, something must have clicked in his head. His demeanor changed, his voice sharp. “You said it yourself, you know. ‘Just don’t get caught with her in public.’”

You made this sound, one you couldn’t describe, through clenched teeth. It was some combination of a groan and a shriek. An exasperated, fed-up sound, with your hands curled like you wanted to wring him out.

You both knew that wasn’t how you meant it. What you were talking about was just the two of them, in the privacy of their own homes. Anyone at that party could have snapped a photo and sold the story for who knows how much cash. It wasn’t that unbelievable, considering the obvious.

You didn’t like your words being used against you. No, not just that, but twisted and manipulated. Rules bent but not broken, all so Eren could weasel his way out of it. That wouldn’t be happening. 

There was nothing left to say that would be productive, but you weren’t finished with him yet. You still had this little ball of hate in you, festering, and you wanted to spew it at him. 

“Are you even listening?” Eren asked.

He was across the room from you, over by the couch. You dragged your eyes back to him. When you did, you noticed that shirt again. It meant something to you this time; no longer thrown over the couch out of laziness but evidence of last night. Had Historia torn it off him in the throes of passion as they stumbled off to his bedroom? Or did they just fuck right there, where you were sitting minutes before?

“That’s why you look like shit then—you were up fucking Historia all night.” You weren’t even there, but you were trying to piece the night together as if you were. “Is she still here?”

Eren glared at you with this dead look behind his eyes. You could practically hear him say, ‘You can’t be serious.’ He didn’t need to utter a word.

Eren dropped back to the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know why any of this matters. None of this is real.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I want to be in this situation as much as you do. Believe me.”

Your jaw dropped. His lack of an answer said enough. But you wanted to hear him say it, so you repeated, “Is she still here?”

He didn’t lift his face from his hands, but it didn’t hide the mutter he gave under his breath. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He looked up, shook his head, and snorted like your question was ridiculous. “No, she’s not still here. She left last night.”

You sneered, “Fucked her, then kicked her out like the gentleman you are. That’ll really win her back, won’t it?”

Eren opened his mouth, presumably to defend himself, but he cut himself short. Then, to your surprise, his expression let up. And was that a smile you saw?

“Wait a minute.” He leaned in knowingly. “Are you jealous?”

You weren’t even going to entertain the thought. “No, I’m not fucking jealous!” 

His eyebrow furrowed in delighted curiosity. “Really? Because it sort of seems like—”

“Stop trying to make this about you! I’m not jealous. I’m pissed off because you made a promise, then went and broke it. Now you can’t even apologize.”

How he spoke about this infuriated you. It was as if this was all just a big joke to him, like it was nothing to him—like you were nothing to him. 

Eren sighed and stood up again. He took a few steps toward you before saying, “I’m sorry that I didn’t think a pinky promise actually meant something.” He looked pleased with himself, even crossed his arms. “Happy now?”

You wanted to yell back. Tell him how you would never go back on your word, even for someone as scummy as him. It wasn’t the pinky promise that mattered but the underlying mutual respect. Or lack thereof, you supposed. But to explain it to him would be futile. He wouldn’t understand, anyway. He wasn’t even worth the spent oxygen. 

And there you had it: the Eren you remembered. The Eren you knew he was from the start.

“Well, you have your jacket back.” You barely had the voice to say it. You weren’t hurt. No, you wouldn’t let that happen. You just didn’t know what you were feeling, that was all. “There’s no reason for me to stay any longer.”

You wanted the last word. You at least deserved that, so you scampered out the door before Eren could say anything—before any tears could break your waterline.

Once you were back in your car, you were shaking in anger. It prickled through you like hot needles and made it hard to hold your phone still. 

You indulged in social media as much as the next person, but you knew your limit, and you certainly knew where and what to avoid. Above all, you never read the comments on those exploitative, tabloid-y posts.

But you chose to throw yourself into the lion’s pit today. You needed to know what people were saying about Eren, about Historia—about you. You just had to. 

Regarding the happy couple, there wasn’t anything new or egregious. You could sweat that off, at least. You only wished you could say the same about yourself. 

You couldn’t even process what you were seeing because it only felt like a nightmare. All of these accounts, ones dedicated to Devil’s Paradise and Eren, his dumb face in profile picture after profile picture, relentlessly bashing you. It was all recent, too, within the day.

To think, this whole thing with Eren—the fake relationship, the fighting, the hurt—was to ‘save your image.’ To stop you from becoming the slut your team made you out to be. But you’d seen that word, amongst others, used against you more in the last few minutes than in your entire life. You saw enough to realize that none of this had been worth it.

♡ taglist: @daisynik7 @bejewelledd @lifesuckssomuchtbh @vanessani @intimacywithceline @6sakusa @softjaegerhours @akvrae @sundazedm1 @rinshoe @okaystopwhore @lem-hhn @brooks-lin @writing2live @ichijager13 @littlemochi @sveetnn @elliesbabygirl @sugurunicorn @utahimeow @batafuraikisu @arendizzle @blushblossomsblog @conniesbbymama @drugzforyou @tonysttank @butterfly-skinnylegend @heartstealer-law @mima0127 @shartnart1 @iwaizumiee @violetmatcha @luna4mnoon @wonupuppy @str4wberrylover @pompompurjin @bingbongbingbongsblog @josukesss @bomjug @my-wide-open-eyes @vlsquuu @0bruise @dudaoosstuff please let me know if i missed you or you'd like to be added/removed! tags are still acting up so i apologize if you didn't get notified! thanks for your patience with me with this chapter, and as always, thank you for reading ♡

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader

[toxicanonymity]

Hey :)

Possible ask for you : i can't stop thinking about something that could annoy Raider. Since the beginning she comes almost everytime when he fucks her. I see this as a pride for him (it assets his dominance). In "if you want him", he asked her if she was wet.

And i was thinking, what if one time she wasn't wet ?

So i was wondering why she wouldn't be, since she is since day one...

Maybe she could be in a depression phase (because of her captivity ?) and maybe she could think about Jack. Not in a way where she'd misses him, but because he was killed in front of her. Her situation can certainly lead to a depression. Depression can lead to least horniness. And raider could be annoyed, at first, and worried. But i don't know how he would handle it. Overstimulation? (hard way lol)

I don't know if it works (it's a hard balance because we can't let him think that she's "useless") for what you're planning, but i'd love to see him lost, if reader wouldn't want him, for once

Have a nice day :)

Raider goes down on you

450 words | Raider Joel Master List

A/N: Very interesting thought. I think his sex animal instincts might kick in for a. . . pragmatic approach.

WARNINGS: I8+ oral F receiving, unsafe P in V

Let's say you're face down on the bed in the middle of the night. You wake up, which wakes him up. He's lying to your side. . . Once he shoves his hand between your legs, he doesn't find the usual pool. His brow furrows as he probes for it.

"What's wrong?" You don't say anything. He turns you over like a toy that needs its batteries checked.

He tries again from the front. "Talk to me."

"Nothing, I'm sorry," you shake your head. "I had a bad dream." His face softens, but he's still a little disturbed. He wedges your legs open and kneels between them. He gets on his stomach and puts your legs over his broad shoulders. He plants his face and starts slowly, looking up at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

The sight alone is one to behold, his back and shoulder muscles hulking, his face determined but also a little concerned. The scar on his eyebrow. Soon he's completely overtaken by desire. You taste so good, smell so good, feel so good on his tongue, he forgets why he's even down there and just goes to town. Eating you voraciously, moaning into your folds, nosing your clit, shoving his tongue inside you like you're an oasis in the desert.

He looks up and sees you arch your back a little with a whiny look on your face and he whispers, "yeah," because he knows he's turned you on. He prowls back up your body. He looks down between your bodies, lining his cock up before he shoves into you. And yeah, he turned you on enough, it feels good, but you still have a lot on your mind. You try not to show it. He starts slow, watches your face, and pounds you. You don't look at him.

Let's say you can't come and he doesn't say anything, but you get the sense he's disturbed. Yeah, he considers forcing you to come, but when you insist "please come, I want you to come," he does. His massive pulsations inside you are almost enough to send you into your own climax if you weren't so in your head.

. . . . .

After he's come, he starts to worry about you. He recognizes that you have a lot of bad things to dream about (even if he doesn't quite face the fact that a lot of it's his fault) and maybe not enough good ones, like maybe when he's not there it's kinda boring and you can get to thinking too much. He doesn't know what he can do, but it stays in the back of his mind, and maybe the next day he invites you to shooting practice with him to use your gun. Maybe once you have a holster he invites you to go for a walk. Like, "now that we're both armed, we can go out more."

#joel miller smut #raider!ask #joel miller x reader #raider!joel miller #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️ #raider!joel☠️ #raider!PR tour #milla frenchy

[kalieros]

I’ve been having thoughts.. about visiting your parents house for the first time with your fav.

AN: reader is Cis!female but I tried to make it easy to read for all regardless of gender preference :). ALSO, MDNI this is for mature audiences only.

Mentioned: size kink, dom/sub dynamics, use of "daddy," some manhandling and roughness, hairpulling, implied oral fixation, definitely NSFW. This is un poquito filthy...

Imagine: Kirishima, bakugou, NATSUO, AIZAWA, hawks, endeavor, deku, sero, SHINSOU, reiner, eren, zeke, mayhaps Connie if you squint

The two of you arrived early in the week at your childhood home for a visit, nervous for your parents’ approval. In truth, this visit has its reasons - things were getting serious between the two of you for some time and you were looking forward to introducing your parents to someone that could potentially become a more permanent part of your life. While you knew your parents would truly love the man you'd come to know and appreciate, the anxiety of the situation has gotten to his head a little.

Since you’d arrived that morning he’d been bending over backwards to get your dad to approve of him.

And everything was going just peachy until you asked your daddy to pass the salt at dinner - and that did not end well.

After a huge argument broke out between you and your father the two of you scurried off to your childhood bedroom to unpack and unwind from the events of the day (i.e: to hide).

“I’m sorry again,” he said, covering his face in a sweater he’d pulled out of the suitcase on the floor. “I wish I could just take it back.”

It wasn't like him to so visibly indicate his discomfort. The image worried you, his eyes downcast in a way that you had only seen a time or two before.

You shushed him, bringing your hands around his neck and leaning in. “Baby, don’t worry about it for now.. This was just a hiccup. Everything else went fine, I'm sure they'll overlook it. Plus... it was kind of funny.”

You ended that last note with a whisper, a playful grin painting itself across your face as you nuzzled your face between his cheek and raised arms.

The tactic worked, effectively breaking him out of his worry.

He laughed and huffed, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. You were thankful he was easy to talk to on nights like these.

“You say that but I’m going to take the brunt of this,” he remarked, looking down at you pointedly. "They'd never blame you for this situation, even though you're the one that got us into this mess," he prodded, eyebrow lifting in an unimpressed stare.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" you feigned, looking up at him through innocent, fluttering lashes with a hand over your heart. "It was an honest mistake, nothing more. There's no way they'd hold it against us!" You leaned in, lips brushing his with a slight challenge.

"Nothing's gonna happen, I promise... daddy."

In an instant he was on you, lifting you up by the thighs and slamming you onto the bed with a thud.

You laughed and smiled, catching your breath at his sudden playfulness. Thank god your room was on the first floor.

He crawled onto the bed, looming over you with a devious look.

"Oh baby, you know how I feel about you calling me that." He practically growled, prowling forward until his entire body covered yours. His massive shoulders looked so powerful, and you felt so small under his gaze. Those piercing eyes roamed up and down your body, taking it in.

His right hand found its way to your hip, trailing up over your side and onto your chest, gripping you. You whimpered, a shudder rippling through your spine.

"Honey, I was just messing with you - " you started, a waver in your voice.

"Say it again," he whispered. An order.

"I-"

"Say it. Again." He ordered, eyes locked onto yours. Your eyes dropped, his stare intense and overwhelming, despite the numerous times you'd been in this exact situation with him. A fire at the base of your stomach began to pool, making you squirm with excitement.

"Daddy, I was just -"

He flipped you over with a motion so swift you saw stars. Hands groped and molded your ass under your skirt as he pushed it up and over your hips. A loud smack sounded throughout the room and you gasped, softly begging him to be careful about the noise. You would not want a repeat, much less a worse situation, than what happened at dinner.

He laughed and smacked your ass again. "Is that how you speak to me, baby? At least say please." He began to work your panties down your thighs, massaging your ass as he tossed them to the side. He thumbed at your hole teasingly, a gentle hum rolling off his tongue at the sight.

You whined, the feeling in between your thighs growing warmer and warmer. Your core ached for him already, and he'd barely gotten started.

"Please... Daddy... be careful about the noise." You rubbed your thighs together desperately, hiding your face in the mattress.

He sneered and grabbed your hair, pulling you back up. You cried out in response to the sudden jerk of his hand. "Do I need to do something to ensure you stay quiet too, baby?"

A tear rolled down your cheek, something he'd probably enjoy if he could see it. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, nudging your legs apart. You couldn't help it - you moaned loudly in response, wincing.

"I know what will fix that, baby," he sneered. A zipper sounded behind you as you heard him drop his jeans. Oh, what you would give to have him in your mouth right now, but you knew that wouldn't happen. That would have been a reward.

No. This was a punishment, whether he'd said it aloud or not. This was for the trouble earlier, at dinner. And he was teasing you by letting you hear exactly what you're missing.

A silent moan crept up at the thought, and before you could muffle it behind a hand, he had lifted you up on all fours, pulling your arms back behind you and holding them with one hand. You arched to fit his position, feeling his heavy length pressed up against your ass. The position was sinful - he had so much control over you, and his size was unmistakable against your body.

He reached around and slid his other hand's first two fingers into your mouth. You whined and sucked, lathing your tongue over the digits. "That's it, honey, there ya go," he chuckled darkly, rutting between your legs with a growing speed. He only teased his length, just enough to feed the embers of your desire without fully feeding any flames. It was torture, your body responding quickly to his movements.

The fingers in your mouth felt sinful as he leaned down to kiss along your shoulders, whispering about how filthy you were for provoking him. How he could feel your excitement between your legs, coating his cock and waiting for him to take.

"Please, daddy," you whined in desperate whispers. Your words came out muffled, but you whimpered and pushed back, grinding against him. "Please give me your cock!"

He moaned at your words and clasped his hand over your mouth before sheathing his full length inside you. The both of you swore, and what felt like hours of anticipation was satiated as you felt full.

So full and complete. You smiled, a quiet thank you escaping your lips as he began to piston in and out, his hand still covering your mouth. The other hand moved to grab your waist, anchoring him in place as he leaned over you and fucked into you over and over.

The feeling of his huge body on top of yours intensified everything - his hurried motions, his tight grip on your waist, the feeling of his hard length reaching so deep, his quiet groans and praises in your ear, the hand at your mouth demanding silence. His breath lay heavy on your neck as he pulled you to meet his every thrust, leaving you breathless and starstruck.

It was too much. You could feel yourself trembling, your thighs shaking. He grunted as you squeezed him and in turn, he quickly put his fingers back into your mouth, pulling even more pleasure from your lips. Whimpers spilled out around his fingers as he pumped them back and forth across your tongue, sending you over the edge. You came and he shuddered, your body constricting him as he filled you up, finishing inside. His hands fell to your sides, pulling you against him as he flipped the two of you over on your sides.

The both of you clasped hands, catching your breath. You remembered for the second time tonight that you were in your childhood room, the daze wearing off. You looked up at the ceiling and sighed happily, chest heaving.

"That was...." you began, at a loss for words. You looked over to see him smiling at you, those piercing eyes gazing at you in adoration. He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it softly.

"Come on, baby. Daddy's gonna clean you up now," he laughed, picking you up off the bed and carrying you to the shower.

#bnha #my hero academia #kirishima eijiro #boku no hero academia #mha shinsou #kirishima #mha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #aizawa x reader #endeavor x reader #shinsou x reader #eren x reader #reiner x reader #aot #aot x you #mha x reader #natsuo todoroki #natsuo x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki x reader #kiriskali

[brewed-pangolin]

Pangolin I have a brain worm to share with you after seeing that Soap picking up the person sitting alone in a bar - who’s more likely to approach? Captain MacTavish or Sergeant MacTavish?

Ooohhh, I love this.

As someone who actually appreciates sitting in the quiet corner of a bar, escaping reality with a few hard earned pints. I can tell you quite confidently that both of these men would approach you in their own distinctive manner.

Yet this round goes to Johnny and his natural ease to deploy some charismatic vernacular that would have you begging for more within a matter of minutes. And your mind is nothing more than a virgin vessel lost within the turbulent sea of his bright blue eyes.

He'd eye you across the bar like a cat on the prowl for its next meal. Laser focused, stubbornly confident, and effortlessly begin to move through the crowd until he very blatantly sat himself in the barstool at your side.

You'd acknowledge his presence with a heavy sigh. Rolling your eyes while your lips cradled the rim of the tall beer glass and put up an air of annoyance to the very thought of being spoken to.

"Wha's the matter, lass? Ya allergic ta confidence, er d'ya need somethin a bit more persuasive ta git ya outta tha' hardass shell?"

You were half expecting some corny pick-up line to come rolling over his lips. So the outrageous self assurance oozing out and around him had you conflicted on whether or not to slap him in the face or all together humor him for his outspoken boldness.

You immediately decided to go with the latter.

Feigning an irrated glance, you took him in and were instantly drawn into the deep swirling pools of his eyes. The luminous light of the bar reflecting off their galvanic blue fibers.

Breaking the concrete walls of your solitude with ease. Crushing them into a fine dust and quickly making you want nothing more than to hear that unbridled Scottish assertiveness once more while you attempted to find some semblance of coherent words in the sudden blankness of your mind.

"Persuasion." You replied eventually on a hushed whisper, barely audible amongst the boisterous sounds of the bar.

Yet it's connotation ringing clear on the movements of your lips as a broad smile creased along the length of his mouth.

"Persuasion, eh?" He nodded, only now making you notice his defined and crested scalp.

"Aye. Ah canne think'a nothin' better."

He moved in closer. Invading your space with ease and you made no inclination to pull away as he brought his mouth within inches of the sensitive flesh of your ear.

"How 'bout I persuade ya out this stool, lass? Take a seat on somethin a bit more sturdy an' let ya enjoy a nice long scenic ride to Glasgow."

@deadbranch I'm sorry. I had to use this line. It's just too perfect not to use in this kind of scenario 💛

Drabbles Masterlist

#soap squad™️ #scenic ride to glasgow #id cave immediately #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap drabble #soap x you #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #cod drabble #call of duty #cod

[oogaboogasphincter]

black jaguar | dave york x f!reader

dave returns home from a job and can’t wait to indulge in you.

word count/warnings: 1.1k+ words // EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MDNI!: reader and dave are married, reader has no physical description other than she has stretch marks, slight dub-con due to consensual somnophilia, primal kink like woah, masturbation (m and f), marking/love bites, mild blood mentions, dave is dark!coded and like slightly possessed in this bc it’s spooky season babyyy hehe 😈

a/n: i’m so excited to be participating in kinktober this year! i’m not following a specified prompt list or anything, but i have four pieces planned that i’ll release throughout the month (and possibly a series that i’ve been working on, but it might need more time to develop tbh) i hope you enjoy! <3

Dave comes into your bedroom and shuts the door behind him impossibly quiet, leaving you undisturbed in your peaceful slumber. The bottoms of his boots stick to the carpet, the blood of his slain enemy cloying with the fibers, and root him to the spot. The smart decision would’ve been to take them off downstairs and not trail evidence throughout the house, but right now, his rationality is plagued by a fog of desire; a ravenous compulsion clawing its way from his stomach and tearing pangs of hunger, thirst up his throat, leftover adrenaline from his job webbing the whites of his eyes with red. From the foot of your bed, he greedily drinks in the image of his perfect wife and plots his feast.

Your cheek is turned on the pillow, the eerie moonbeams that stream in through the window are reborn into holy light as they touch your face. On your stomach, one leg is hiked up, exposing your glistening core. A vibrator lays dormant just out of reach of your hand and there’s a wet spot on the sheets betwixt your thighs.

This is the only time that Dave allowed you to touch yourself, when he was away on a job. You would fret so much over him, wondering and worrying which dark corner of the world he found himself in, what morally questionable people he came into contact with, what dangerous conditions he had thrown himself into this time… all in the name of making sure he could take care of you. There was no other option but to fuck your self stupid in order to fall asleep every night. Of course, it was nothing like his brand of ecstasy, but it had to be enough to tide you over until he returned.

His gloves, ripped from his impatience to get them off, follow his bloodied jacket to the floor. He prowls forward with footsteps that hold the weight of the world but don’t make a sound. He sits next to you on your side of the bed, leaning in so close he can smell your arousal, surrendering his control to your allure like the tides to the moon. He studies your body, assessing exactly where he’d like to lay claim tonight. His lips, chapped from the bitter chill outside, press against your naked lower back in a litany of kisses, prepping your skin for his impending release.

Unable to stave off the craving any longer, he takes his cock out of his slacks and begins dragging his fingers along his length, stroking himself to hardness until the veins that run perpendicular to his girth are rigid with depravity. Resting on his forearm, he drops his nose down to the sheets and nestles the pool of slick you left in your wake, a groan shaking up his back and rumbling through his teeth. He drags his tongue along the wet spot, grunting with a newfound softness at your taste. Your essence is so sweet, so honest; deep down in his heart, he feels unworthy of such salvation, but he keeps gorging on you in the hopes that some of your purity might lodge itself in his heart.

His eyes rove over the slopes of your body, seamlessly riding along your every curve with awe. He reaches his fingers out to touch you for the first time in weeks and it’s like he’s been struck with a lightning bolt. Heart rate picks up, sweat breaks out on his forehead, his hips hump the air in a pathetic jolt. He traces the stretch marks that encircle your hips, dipping into the deeper ones like a ravine and following their length with reverence, swept away by their current.

His touch falls over your ass, depositing him at the precious apex of your thighs. With surgical precision, keeping you suspended in the dream realm, he finds his way into your folds and gathers some of your fresh wetness. It’s like you could sense that he’s there, priming your body for him subconsciously. Bringing it to his mouth and engulfing it, he doesn’t allow himself to drink directly from you because he’s entertained enough sins tonight. Tainting your sweetness with his stroke of malevolence would be irredeemable.

But Dave is far from a saint. His rough fingertips slink to your clit and circle it, eliciting some soft whimpers from your parted lips. His grip on his cock tightens at your sounds, gliding from base to tip at a frenzied speed. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to burst so soon, because the sight of your angelic form only propels him toward his peak. With his other senses heightened, your arousal feels even more luscious against his fingers; your sleepy, pitiful moans worm into his mind and make a deep magenta pound behind his eyelids. The air in his lungs is knocked out of him, a choked-out gasp squeezing out of his chest.

Some primal urge maws its way from inside his bones and unleashes itself in his body, flooding him with a raw mixture of possessiveness and love. Hunched over your back, he lurches forward and takes the flesh of where your neck and shoulder meet between his teeth as he comes hard, growling lowly in your ear. You awaken with a gasp, but not one of distaste; your voice quickly melts into a passionate moan as you recognize the distinct timbre that underlines Dave’s groaning. If it were anyone else but Dave, his sounds would be dramatic, silly even. But you know he’s not putting on any kind of show, that those animalistic sounds reverberate from his chest organically, and it puts a satisfied grin on your face.

The sticky drops of his release land on your lower back, their paths curving with the slope of your body. Once he’s emptied himself completely, Dave puts a hand in between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned beneath him for his viewing pleasure. He stares at your marked skin, from the translucent glimmer of sweat and spend on your back to the bite on your neck that is already blooming purple with blood. He collapses and molds himself to you, pressing dainty kisses to your neck as his instinct to nurture begins stemming back into his psyche. His fingers ghost against your wound almost apologetically. Almost.

He would feel a little more remorseful if it weren’t for the adoring glow in your eyes when you finally meet his gaze. God, he’d been aching to see you. He practically has a portfolio of you in his mind, countless memories that he can replay like film whenever he chooses, but nothing will ever come close to simply being in your presence. For the first time since he left you, a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Your mirror it, as his true counterpart.

“Welcome home.”

main masterlist ♡ join my taglist!

💘taglist (if you’re crossed out it means i couldn’t tag you): @pascalpanic @melody13522 @tenderwhat @maievdenoir @pedrostories @uncassettodiricordi @harriedandharassed

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york x afab!reader #dave york x you #pedro pascal characters #kinktober 2023 #love bites

[diejager]

Lil' Mouse

The Ghostface

Cw: blood, gore, murder, attempted murder, survivor, killer, NSFW, torture, implication of smut, Ghostface being a sick fuck- he's Ghostface.

Note: not proofread

Wc: 1k

Few things made his blood pump, adrenaline running through his veins with hunger; deep, unscathed hunger - a primal need. One of those were the chases. He loved the feeling of a chase, the pure adrenaline that it gave him, he lived for the hunt and the stalking. Watching his victim slowly fall into madness, paranoia at being watched, thinking that they're being watched without knowing who or where, the fear in their eyes and the jitters in their body; but what he loved more than the stalking was the sound of his knife stabbing through a person's flesh, the squelch of blood and the warm feel of it under his cool, leather gloves. The cold silver turned into a crimson shimmer after one stab, a drug that drove his system wild, it gave him a kick to see blood pool from the wound and cover the ground his victim lay.

If they screamed- Oh, if they screamed and trashed, it would only spur him on, making the game of cat and mouse truly alive. The gurgles and gasps he would receive, his ears tuned to the songs of harrowing pain that slowly died down as his victim bled to death. The liquid life draining the warmth and colour of their skin, glazed over eyes and red-painted lips. Another picture for the memorabilia - his twisted sense of remembrance for his past victims added to the papers he wrote about himself.

He killed for self-enjoyment, to feel the thrill and energy it brought to him - perhaps that's why it didn't bother him when she took him, to the Entity's world.

She fed off hope and despair, words he was familiar with, he also got a kick out of seeing people cry and despair. It was a good deal in his eyes, he could stalk, hunt and kill without the nagging presence of authoritative figures or always needing to move from state to state; it saved him time and money, though it lacked the power he had over the city he preyed upon and failed to fuel his need for media popularity.

The same faces, the same methods, the same voices, but the various ways he stabbed them, choked them, and left them for dead was exhilarating. It might've been better than before, he could let them scream as loud as he wanted. Some, he hated - a mutual hatred between him and a few survivors - others, he could care less as long as he was entertained - they feared him for good reasons, he was a knife-wielding psycho charging at them. None were his favorites, he didn't have one, couldn't find an interesting enough individual to constantly keep his attention on- but then you popped up.

A doe-eyed survivor with scars lining the cuffs of your collar, silver lines hidden tightly under that loose polo of yours; none being a result of your actions, surely. Cautious frown and knitted brows in and out of trials, softening when pointed towards another survivor and hardening to a resolute glare when caught by one of his. How utterly adorable. You watched from afar, never daring to approach him, even when he beckoned you over with a teasing wave, eyes narrowed and back hunched as you backpedaled from him. You hightailed away the first time you met, quick on your feet and smart too - he liked that. Although you were a bit quiet, mouse-like in some ways as some survivors would be after living in the Entity's realm for a while; scurrying away before anything bad happened; fidgeting with your hands; looking back at every noise. Adorably so, you became his new obsession.

On the second trial, he cornered you, stalked you, trapped you, and hunted you like a prowling cat hunting a sqeaky mouse. You froze up, hands trembling and legs rigid with terror, the dark circles under your eyes made your wide eyes so much prettier when he caught the glint of his knife in them. Each step of his doubled yours, backing you into a wall, helpless and at his mercy.

"I'm gonna carve you another one, yeah?"

True to his words, you found yourself straddled on the cold and damp floor, hands flying towards his masked face, his hands, his shoulders - anywhere you could that would potentially stop him - to deter him from carving you another one. A deep, saccharine chuckle, muffled by his mask, reached your ears as his knife plunged into your flesh, tracing the lines that your prior attacker left. What he could finish before, Ghostface could, drawing new lines over the old ones, painting pinkish silver in red and unscarred flesh with red.

"You look hot, babe," he cooed, sounding so far away from the blood loss.

The ringing in your head and numbing body told you all you needed - made you reminisce of the time you were attacked and left for dead in that alley, forgotten - except for the hard poke on your thigh that told you another thing: he was a sick fucker. The bastard had popped a boner while stabbing you.

He found new ways of doing you in, on the third meeting he hooked you - for once - on the fourth, your throat was slit; on the fifth, stabbed once in the abdomen and cuddled as you bled to death; on the sixth, a quick and merciful hit to the heart after he cracked your ribs; seventh-

You hated him, where he found pleasure, you found pain - much expected from a killer toward a survivor. Yet, with every kill, he helped, The Ghostface helped you slowly move on, over your near-death experience, of having everyone leave you after they thought you kicked the bucket, numbing the pain. You were always worried about or congratulated after a match with him, and he, true to his words, always came back to you for more.

"My adorable lil' mouse," he said, fingers crinkling around the handle of his knife as he peered over the wall.

Degrading, yes, but it held a bit of affection.

You either got away scot-free or died with him, not limping to the gate with The Shape or dizzy and brain-scrambled by The Doctor. They were all sick bastards, but Ghostface was one of the... nicer toward you.

"Hmm?" he cooed, head tilting almost comically with his mask. "You want to know what to call me other than Ghostface?"

"Danny, babe, Danny Johnson. You better remember it cuz you'll be screaming that name tonight."

#dbd fanfic #dbd ghostface #dbd x reader #ghostface #danny johnson #dbd x you #dbd ghostface x reader #dead by daylight #ghostface x reader #the shape #the doctor

[heliopauseentertainments]

Chromedome finds out about Prowl's other ex, Mesothulas aka Tarantulas.

Done and done.

Prowl's Tragic Love Life

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationship: Past Prowl/Chromedome, Past Tarantulas/Prowl, background relationships

Characters: Chromedome & Rewind

Summary: In which Rewind informs Chromedome of some most excellent gossip.

Crossposting: AO3 | DreamWidth

Fic below cut.

“I don’t believe it,” Chromedome said, pointedly not looking at Rewind.

He was used to Rewind bringing him bizarre, upsetting, or even downright disturbing information. That was just par for the course being conjunxed to a journalist who spent years watching snuff footage to track down a missing partner, but this was new in a way he couldn’t have anticipated.

This was about him.

Well, it was about Prowl, which meant that it was about him by proxy.

And that didn’t sit well. Guilt by association was already pooling in his fuel tanks.

“What do you mean you don’t believe it?” Rewind snapped.

Not to be deterred, the minibot scaled the desk Chromedome was sitting at to stand right in front of him.

The only escape would be physically leaving their habsuite, which wasn’t exactly a good solution in the long run. Rewind would just come after him, accusing him of not caring about the Truth and the concept of a complete, comprehensive narrative.

It would be embarrassing.

Yet another thing to feel unrelenting guilt about.

“Prowl had the worst rebound with a mad scientist guy who turned himself into some kind of spider mutant and you don’t want to know about it?”

Rewind put his hands on his hips, head tilted in judgment.

“No, I don’t!” Chromedome threw his hands in the air.

“Oh, come on!” Rewind grabbed Chromedome’s face by the mask, preventing him from moving away. “It’s the perfect gossip material for vindicating your life choices!”

Vindicating? Vindicating?

All Chromedome felt about it was shame, a pervasive, all-consuming guilt, as though Prowl’s awful choices somehow reflected on him, despite the fact that they had separated before the war had even in full force.

He said nothing.

“How about this? After that imploded, Tarantulas had a worse rebound.”

#ask #anonymous #fic #drabble #chromedome #rewind #taraprowl #prowldome #maccadam #idw1

[everyb0dysf00l]

"You feel the same way that I do for you, about her"

Tags: canonxoc, fem oc, wlw, hurt no comfort, unrequited love, returning love too late, major character death, grief, angst, infidelity? (Michael's a homewrecker)

Summary: Unceremoniously changed against her will, Star must navigate her new life as a half-vampire, knowing the reason she was turned was for an immortal that grew fascinated with her. When the Emerson's moved into town the maverick girl finds herself stuck between two desires and two people she cares for.

Word count: 15.5k (I got a bit carried away)

Star had never put much thought into her plans.

Always a free spirit who lived for life and everything it came with. It never resonated with her that being so optimistic and lively might get her in trouble one day.

And it has. The kind of trouble that no matter how much you try patching it up and praying over it, it simply can't be fixed. She had thought she hated the boys and her but as she looked down at her bloody, fervid attempt at self-preservation, she can't help but feel she had been wrong.

The bright signature lights of Santa Carla's boardwalk shone over the nightlife, lighting up the otherwise obscured faces in colourful intervals. Fun for them, useful for the looming figures tucked away on the edge of the overlapping crowds. They watched over their potential prey in the pools of stock, looking through each individual to find their perfect match. Two of the blonds had already found a couple of passersby they fancied to sink their teeth into, eager even to taste their warm, thick blood, the thought alone making them restless. But they waited for the others to make their claims, somewhat earnest that they were taking so long.

"What's the big deal, just pick one so we can eat!" The taller blond, Paul, whined clearly fed up with the group's prowling, much rather wanting to strike their victims and sustain the burning hunger in his throat. The others ignore him apart from a couple eye rolls sent in his direction, specifically from Dwayne, keeping their focus on the tourists.

The leader of the group stalling his time to take his pick, as the norm for him. David claimed he wanted nothing but the best to feed from, not wanting to drink from a drug addict or a chronic alcoholic, their life source tasting bitter and old compared to clean blood.

Marko and Paul had coined it 'virgin blood', thinking they were clever, but they honestly didn't mind tainted blood too much. The two already taking whatever drug they could get their hands on at the time. "You know, junkie blood isn't that bad. You get food and get high at the same time!" Paul pushes further, practically jumping on the spot from where he sat on his bike. His friend chimes in "Yeah, the stoner bloods the best." The blond gestures to Marko "See! Roni, you think so too, right?"

Standing the furthest away from the group, arms crossed loosely to her chest with a cigarette resting between her fingers, Veronica was trying her best to stay out of whatever conversation the boys were having but naturally, they ended up pulling her into it regardless. She turned her head slightly to look in their direction, "Hm? Oh, yeah, sure." she muttered in a distant tone before turning back around to watch the crowd.

"Something on your mind there?" Marko prodded her side receiving a glare in return which only caused him to chuckle, bumping shoulders with his friend who was equally as amused. "None of your business." Paul joined in with his Marko's antics looping around to the other side of Veronica, looking down at her with a mischievous smirk. "Oh, really? So would we be wrong in assuming a certain girl's on your mind?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Can you not?" trying her best to push the two men away, the dark-auburn-haired girl sighed out in frustration. The boys had always been like this, especially the two tormenting her currently, when they offered her to join them as their sister she didn't think they meant they'd actually treat her like one. "Aaaww, don't want us to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?" They mocked in a baby voice, teasingly pinching her cheeks, she finally broke free from their grasp and smacked them both on the arms, which made them cackle loudly.

As if on queue, Star appeared from the sea of people walking towards the gang with little Laddie in tow, a fistful of her skirt in his hand to not get lost. Paul and Marko chuckled amongst themselves as they make their way back to their bikes, anticipating what was going to happen when she did regroup with them.

If Veronica had a working heart in her chest it would be beating a thousand times over right now, tension already in the air connecting her and the approaching woman. The night before still fresh on her mind, she kept eye contact as the gap between them reduces until Star comes to a sudden stop in front of her. They stand silently looking at each other, waiting for the other to speak first, neither of them do. Instead, keeping their eyes entrapped within the others. Licking her chapped lips and fidgeting with the cigarette laying between her fingers, Veronica looked her up and down as if doing so would cause her to come up with anything to say. It manifested itself into an awkward silence with neither of them knowing how to progress. There was so much for Veronica to say but she couldn't think of a way to say anything at all, chewing her lip to where it became sore, fingers flicking the rolled tobacco.

A low whistle came from Paul's lips as if to signify the awkwardness of the situation, Laddie had already detached himself from Star at this point to head back to Dwayne, the man lifting him up to settle him down on the back of his bike now revved up and ready to go, waiting only for the rest of them to follow.

David seemed to have made his mind up as he too starts up his engine and wordlessly motions for the rest to do the same with a nod of his head. Star looked over to them before giving Veronica one more quick glance, bowing her head she silently walked past Veronica's bike to sit on David's. Not making eye contact with the sullen girl, clearly embarrassed and ashamed with all the eyes on her, she wrapped her arms around David's torso.

Veronica sighed, throwing the butt of her cigarette to one side before lifting her leg over her bike and starting up the engine, sending a glare over to the boys for the enjoyment they were clearly getting from the situation, Paul in particular looking like he might burst into a fit of laughter with his lips clamped tight shut around his teeth.

The road back to the cave was easily followed by the group, having taken it more times than they could count. They used to only go back to the cave once they were done hunting but since Star had joined she insisted they drop her and Laddie off first. David refused but of course she got her way, as the norm it seemed to be. That fact irritated the blond to no end, David and Veronica used to be close but now, it feels as though their relationship is dwindling by the minute, with every day she and Star cause tension in the pack she could feel the bond with all of them weaken. Even now as they drift down the dirt road, the boys stick together while Veronica falls back a bit.

Engines sputtered to a stop at the entrance of the cave just long enough for Star and Laddie to hop off the bikes and head inside, Veronica watching the woman skip down the uneven rocks until her silhouette disappeared into the mouth of the den before they were driving back down the path toward the beach.

The scent of their chosen prey still plaguing their senses, she assumed the others were excited for the hunt but she just wanted to get feeding over with as soon as possible. The once high-spirited girl used to love going to the boardwalk to find victims, the way they'd scream and fight while their sickly-sweet blood ran down her throat gave her an ecstasy she couldn't resist.

Now she couldn't care less about the activity, seeing it as more of a chore than something to enjoy. It was a particularly cold night tonight especially for Santa Carla's standards, imagining Star sitting alone in the cave, wrapped in her sheer scarf trying to keep warm in the cold chill worried her. Half-vampires are a bit stronger than humans but nowhere near the extent of true vampires, a bug or illness the boys and Veronica can easily brush off like nothing could have a bad effect on the two fragile halflings currently huddled up in the hideout.

Luckily for her, the group didn't take long to get to the beach, not that she would've noticed with her thoughts taking her mind elsewhere. The woman Veronica had set her eyes on hadn't wandered far from the area she had left her, much to her relief, tracking down runaway prey wasn't something she was particularly excited for currently.

Most of the prey had congregated around a bonfire as was the tradition for tourists, cold beers in hand with loud music blasting across the seafront. The group spend only a few moments observing the lot before unleashing their attack. Veronica leapt forward from behind one of the old trees that outline the beach, attaching her fangs to the throat of her long-awaited kill, taking in the alluring and addictive scent of blood. The soft crunch of broken skin pacifying the primal desperation for the hunt, shivers juddering through her body as the woman squirmed under her grip, feeling the blood escape her veins into the mouth of the merciless creature encasing her.

Screams and pleas are all drowned out by the others who too fell victim to the vampires, almost like a sick harmony except everyone is out of time and only worried about their own survival. Ultimately, the predators prevail and take what's theirs until the screaming comes to a halt.

For Veronica, it all went by in a blur. The distant begging and screeching still swirling in her mind's ear as she lets the once warm body drop, pushing tussled curls out of her peripheral, smearing the burning liquid across her already caked face. If vampires had the ability to sweat, the heaving gang would be drenched in the musk, the moist air blowing in from the sea coating a clammy sheen on their cold skin.

Hollering and whooping, the guys jumped around the beach shoving into each other like a group of boisterous school boys, using the bonfire to dispose of the drained, cold bodies. Sparing them only a slight glance, Veronica rose to her full posture and turned to leave, the grains of sand beneath her worn boots gritting together in protest, making her way back to their bikes.

"Hey! Where you going?" Sighing in annoyance but not faltering in her steps, Veronica continued her pursuit even as a heavy arm fell on her shoulders pulling her close into a side hold. "You okay, babe?" Paul leaned his weight onto her hovering to be down to her height. Marko joined on the other side slotting an arm around his blond friend, trapping Veronica between the two of them once again, except this time she was desperately trying to get out of the situation. She tried pushing through but their grip held strong, keeping their stride even to hers as they pestered her.

"Come on, boys, stop bothering her." Dwayne called out from by the bonfire, for a moment Veronica mentally thanked him for a small mercy, "She's trying to get lucky tonight, don't cockblock her". Cackles erupted across the seafront, not even David couldn't resist a crack at her expense, and here she thought he was coming to her rescue. Shoving the boys' arms off her, she turned around slightly "Seriously, fuck you guys." before continuing until she got to her bike. The sounds of her friends laughing still playing in the background as she sets back off to the cave.

-----

The abandoned wreck, which used to be a grand hotel, is actually quite cosy. Posters and stolen decorations hang from the ceiling and walls, old couches and chairs strewn across the layout were dusty but relatively comfy but nothing compared to the small sanctuary Star had set up for herself in the furthest corner. Canopies and fabrics slung around the area of her bed which harboured blanket on top of blanket all perfect to nestle into. Boxes of scarves and clothes and all sorts of shimmering things scattered around the room, including on the drawers that had been set out for the rest of Star's things.

Scanning quickly over the cave, Veronica looked for Star through the hanging fabrics. Soft humming travelled from a nest of pillows and duvets to the entrance where was Veronica climbed down, she presumed it must be coming from Star's bed as she ventured towards it. Sure enough, sat with crochet needles in her hands, Star is delicately weaving yarn into intricate patterns. Looking lost in her own world, she hadn't even noticed the approaching girl until her boot let out a squeak that dragged her attention from her project.

Dropping the needles and yarn to the side, Star stared at the bloodied woman with wide eyes. Looking her up and down taking in the mess left behind on her body, the staining that was no doubt going to be apparent by tomorrow, luckily most of her outfit was composed of black material but the blood will take nonetheless.

The doe-eyed woman slowly stood up from where she was on the mattress, circling around to meet her reluctantly but not with fear, reaching a hand out to rest on Veronica's arm "You're a mess." She spoke, almost scolding her in a way. Taking in the sight up close. Usually, they'd wash themselves off in the ocean before they settled in for the night but the anxious girl had come straight home to Star, totally forgetting their routine.

Pushing the dirtied jacket up and off Veronica's shoulders, the blood making the fabric stick to her skin giving a peeling effect as it left, Star disposed of it to the side making sure not to let it fall on any of her own possessions. Soft fingers brush bare skin as they travel up the curves of exposed flesh, nothing between the bloodied upper body and the outside aside a cropped singlet that could pass for a bralette if anything. About to move her hands away to grab a washcloth that sat in an old box of materials, they were suddenly held down by the vampire's, forcing them to stay in contact with her sides. Star's eyes flickered up. Sharp but shallow breaths pass the rosy lips of the halfling, chest slowly rising and falling as if an internal battle isn't waging in her heart trying to overtake any sense in her brain.

A mass murderer stood before her, the faint scent of gore still lingering, in the hair tickling her arms, the pudge that lay under her palms, under the fingernails that now reach to caress her cheek. The gap between their bodies lessening leaving only a few inches to separate them, Veronica removed one of her cold hands from Star's, she makes gentle contact with the brunette's face.

It's wrong. It's so wrong. This beast of the night, sucker of blood, something dubbed soulless by mere humans yet upon looking in her eyes and feeling her touch Star could protest that all to be wrong. Looking back to the entrance of the cave to make sure no one was there, Star looked suddenly nervous trying to seperate herself from Veronica but failing. She let out a weak protest when she felt the thumb resting on her cheek edge closer to her lips, the blood filling her nostrils tempting enough to make her mouth begin to water. She knew what the vampire was trying to do but her protests were too weak for Veronica to believe.

Transitioning from human to vampire was difficult for any halfling but pure, kindhearted Star took it too hard, she couldn't fathom sinking her teeth into the flesh of another. But she knew, deep down, that she was becoming just like that monster standing before her now. Every new night spent in this new body, life and mind she felt the burning thirst take hold of her throat with an iron grip that held no mercy, making her see darkness until she had no choice but to fight for air. Blood. God, she needed it so bad and here her saviour was offering to take that grip from her throat herself, to stop the pain and guilt. But she just couldn't do it, she was weak just like her trembling hands now pressed on Veronica's midriff, trying to push away.

Surprisingly gentle, Veronica gave comforting strokes of her thumb over Star's hand while the other still rests by her lip, the lack of heartbeats and heat coming from her didn't help the goosebumps littering the shaken girl but the soft words emitting her mouth gave her enough warmth to keep her standing. "Why? You've already come this far, haven't you?" Looking away from the vampire's eyes didn't help the feeling she felt through her, doing her best not to turn her head was so difficult, "Are you trying to say you don't want this at all? That you don't want me all? You'd rather go back to how your life was before I met you?"

Allowing a feminine hand to travel further up until they settled on the side of her neck, a thumb pressed to the sensitive points causing a shake to infiltrate her body. They both know she isn't going to answer, she never does. However, Veronica became tired of the lack of reciprocation and communication as of late. Gently but forcefully using the hand on her cheek to twist Star's face toward her, eyes locking together. "Answer." It was almost a beg in its nature but Star knew the darkness that lay beneath. "I-" a breath caught in her throat "I can't." sobs racket her body in violent shudders, the hand that wasn't occupied working itself to wipe away the tears pouring themselves down her cheeks. Weeks of pent-up frustration and tension finally snapping into an explosion of tears and hiccups.

"I can't kill people. I can't, Veronica, please. I can't. I don't want to." Incoherent babbling pooling out with no intention of making much sense. The relief of finally being able to let out the conflicts going through her mind allowed her to slump her shoulders and let herself fall on the sturdy woman. Accepting arms welcome the meltdown, giving soft strokes to the back of coiled hair, taking strands between cold fingers and twirling them.

A soft hum acts as a way to soothe the panicked girl, "You do. You want to kill as much as I do, but you know if you give in you'll change and no one will forgive you apart from me, not even yourself." Glossy brown eyes snap up to make contact with the darker set peering down at her, vision blurred from the weeping. Her body pressed up against the vampire, Star gazed at Veronica flustered. Words caught in her throat, unable to come up with an argument to what she knew was the truth.

Suddenly, Veronica lunged down, lips lock in a rough, passionate exchange, hands travel through locs of curls and soft skin. A gasp passing through Star's mouth into the vampire's, lips hungry and desperate for more, denial stops none of the intense lust travelling through the halfling as she becomes one with her illicit lover. Teeth nipped at red flesh causing blood to rush forward to the meeting point filling Veronica's senses with the primal urge to sink her fangs into soft skin, retrieving the nectar from its source. Hunger still raging its war through her throat and soul, begging her to lean forward and fill its desires, her last meal was sparing and meagre it would be so easy now to put an end to the burning.

She pulled back to look down at the delicate human, a sliver of tongue swiping across her lip to gather the remaining saliva left behind before she suddenly pushed Star away causing her to gasp in shock.

Sparing not even as little as a glance, she sauntered away, fists curled tightly by her side, knuckles turning a pale white, her posture stiff. A stunned Star left behind, mouth parted dispensing hot, heavy breaths, fingers clutching at the fabric of her skirt. Confusion set in watching the frustrated figure disappear back up through the mouth of the cave, presumably to the boys who were no doubt laughing at their expense right now as they suffer from their emotions. She felt pathetic clinging to whatever nerves she had left, knowing how much pain she was causing the one person who still stood by her unconditionally. She was never wanted by the others, even in her human life she remained unnoticed, but here now she took advantage of the dedication of a woman who loved her.

Wet strokes of tears remarried the damp cheeks of Star's pink face, a muffled thump echoed in the small burrow as she let herself fall back on her bed, resting her upper body on the column supporting the canopy hanging over. Raising a shaking hand to cover her mouth, sobs racked her body leaving her without noise. "Star?" A little voice popped out from around the corner, Star whipped her head around toward the sound.

Laddie stood alone by the wall separating the main cave and the little nook the boys had set up as their nest, peeking out with his hair ruffled with sleep and pyjamas crinkled. Confusion set across his face as he watched Star break down in front of him. Usually, he'd sleep beside her in her bed but on the nights she and Veronica had their tensions, Star would redirect the young boy to the other vampires' room, where he now emerged confused and yawning.

"Oh, Laddie, what're you doing up? It's about to be morning soon." Such an odd saying she had never gotten used to, sunrise used to give her such joy, playing out under the rays, sunbathing under the rising heat. Now she could never see it again, at least not without the most immense discomfort imaginable.

"Why are Veronica and you mad at each other?" Such an innocent question caused another bout of hurt through the shaking girl, with open arms and trembling lips, Star allowed Laddie to return to her, holding him to her torso firmly. Wrapping him up with the blankets, letting out sniffles as she held the boy like her life depended on it, tucking them both into bed.

-----

It turns out the male vampires hadn't been too far from the cave, waiting by the old, rusted railings of one of the abandoned roads making conversation about whatever has been happening on the boardwalk. They appeared to have taken their wash in the ocean, although Paul had clearly missed a few spots here and there.

The breeze blowing in from the sea rustled their hair, their jackets stripped off and placed across the backs of their bikes. Paul and Marko play wrestled on the road in front of the unimpressed David and Dwayne who were passing the time with a couple of rolled cigarettes. It was only David who noticed the woman, fists still screwed tight by her sides, approaching the group, huffing under her breath.

"Oh, look who it is. Done already?" He teased as she came to a halt in front of the railing. She reached a hand out to snatch a cigarette from his slung coat and reached down to take her lighter out of her own pocket. Remembering she had left her jacket in the cave she sighed, extending the tobacco out expectedly to the bleach blond. A laugh rumbled from his chest but he lit her smoke nonetheless. Taking a deep puff, Veronica allowed the smoke to fill her lungs, a wave of release washed over her as she closed her eyes. Feeling eyes still on her, she waved them off "Nothing happened."

At this point, the two rowdy boys had stopped wrestling and turned to look at their friend. Veronica opens her eyes to stare back at them "She's still half human, I can't stand to be around her right now." A sigh passed her lips "She just refuses to feed, what's wrong with her?!" She whined, taking another puff from the cigarette clutched between her fingers. Dwayne reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze, "She'll come around. I know you didn't take well to being one of us at first, but look at you now."

She appreciated the gesture but Veronica couldn't help but feel like he was wrong. Star didn't want to turn for her.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

And she never will.

It hadn't been a week since the mishap when the group returned to the boardwalk, following the same chaotic routine they always do; cause some mayhem, get a bite to eat then go hunting for more to complete their fill. Star and Veronica hadn't interacted too much afterwards, much to the grievance of the latter, the nights becoming more lonely. No matter how many parties and concerts they attend, it doesn't stop the tension between them. A hole felt itself form in Veronica as they grew further apart, it would be shocking to see how close they were formerly, but the truth has to come out eventually and revealing the nature of her true form practically made them strangers all over again.

Even now as the group sat outside the gates waiting for the curly-haired girl to return, Veronica knew it wouldn't be her bike she climbed onto tonight. Fiddling with her old lighter, she pretended to listen to whatever the boys were saying but not actually taking anything into her mind. Watching the crowds in hopes for Star to appear so she could put an end to another painful night.

Much to her relief, the girl emerged from the gates striding towards the group, an rare smile spread across her lips. For a moment, a foolish moment, Veronica assumed it was directed towards her, a replica grin spread across her face as she watched. Just as she was wondering what caused the sudden joy to overcome her, her smile was wiped off as another figure entered the scene. A boy with curly brown hair followed behind the young woman, watching her every move like a lost puppy.

Who is he? The thought jumped into her mind, pushing everything else aside to persist itself. The boy came to a sudden stop when he caught sight of the gang, clearly confused as to why a girl like Star would want to be around a group like them. With furrowed brows, Veronica watched the grinning girl move to sit on the back of David's bike. The whole group had turned to look at the starstruck boy, laughing amongst themselves as he had his eyes glued on Star. A younger boy with blond hair and a pierced ear stood by his side, mockingly bumping his elbow "Ha, she stiffed ya!" he chortled as the gang took off on their way.

Eyes staring off in front of her, they all continued their way to the cave not allowing the ogling stranger to disrupt their schedule. The others made jokes about the boy but Veronica didn't want to contribute, feeling out of sorts. Usually, she didn't allow boys like him to make her insecure but the way Star reacted to his longing stares made her feel like this time was different. Would she ever get the guts to leave, if she could resist the order of her sire would she?

She couldn't even bear to look in her direction as they dropped her off at the cave despite feeling her eyes pressure on the side of her head. Something she would be dying for a week or so ago is now something she avoided to the best of her abilities, she could almost feel the disappointment from the girl as they all drove away to take their next victims.

It was a girl and her boyfriend they had picked out tonight, they had caused some trouble with them a few hours prior and the merciless lot had decided to take their revenge on them. They had parked on an overhang looking out to the boardwalk, no doubt getting up to something sexual, however, unfortunately for them, their promiscuity was cut short by the bloodthirsty beasts. Ripping the roof off their car the group pulled both humans up and out, fighting over them like animals over scraps. An unfair distribution of two to five leads to hissing and pushing, but they all get at least a little blood from the victims in the end.

By the time they were done, it was as if the animalistic fighting had never happened, wrapping arms around shoulders and giving pats to backs. They all seemed in high spirits with no care in the world, all except Veronica who stayed behind while the rest started making their way back to the bikes. It is only when Marko reaches his arm out to sling over the woman's shoulder that he realises she's not there, turning around to look for her, he catches sight of her looking out to the silhouette of the seaside town unmoved from where she was feeding.

"Hey, you alright?" He called over, grabbing the attention of the other three. They all stare back concerned, Veronica doesn't respond instead continuing to look out over the cliff. Dwayne decides to take the initiative and make his way over to her, the rest staying behind so as to not crowd her. "You okay?" He repeats, careful not to get too close understanding the danger of sneaking up on an unexpected vampire.

No response. Letting out a sigh, he steps closer to the edge leaning over so he could get a glimpse of her. Although the look on her face doesn't give him much to go off either, a neutral expression sat on her features. "What's wrong?"

The boys start to edge closer, shuffling their boots on the dirt and gravel, taking their time to get to her. Lips clenched tightly around her teeth, eyes looking off with a gloss sheen, Veronica blinked rapidly or at least more than usual. Being empathetic in regard to his friend's emotions, Dwayne sent a sympathetic look her way, raising a hand to her shoulder, rubbing gently. The young woman tried acting unmoved by the gesture but her bottom lip started to quiver, she tightened her crossed arms as if doing so would provide her something to hold on to that might stop her from falling into shambles.

By this point, the rest had caught up coming to a stop just behind her, forming a half circle. They had half a mind as to why she was suddenly upset. "Guys stare at Star all the time," David spoke up, reassuring her in a way that would only be reassuring if said by David. "'Cause she's hot!" Paul interrupts, throwing himself in the mix. An appreciation for their efforts was felt by Veronica but it did little to improve her mood, arms moving to sway by her sides she doesn't move her eyes from the lights in the distance. "I know. But she's never reciprocated, she's never liked men looking at her like that. But. But, she. The way she looked at him."

They knew exactly what she meant, even through their jokes they could see what was right in front of them. They'd all been given looks like that by girls and guys alike throughout their lifetimes, both mortal and immortal, and that look replicated itself on Star's face. She likes the boy on the boardwalk.

Truth be told it wasn't just tonight that upset her so, it was weeks and months of pressure and denial weighing down on her shoulders finally buckling and falling down, crippling her with the pain of the hard truth. "She doesn't love me anymore. She hates me, thinks I'm a monster." The last of her speech slurred from the saliva building up in her mouth followed by a thick lump at the back of her throat. Her eyes try their best to shun the wetness forming under their lids, she let out a shaky, soft breath through her nostrils.

"Hey, that's not true!" Marko tried denying but the decision was already made up in the brunette's mind.

It carried on for days, the boy continued returning to the boardwalk looking for Star and she didn't resist, letting him look for her with amusement as she made no attempt to hide away.

Tonight, he stood looking at the stall offering ear piercings, wincing as the girl in the chair had the needle shoved through her lobe. Not far away, the gang stood chatting watching over the nightlife, they too found enjoyment in the young man's efforts, all except from Veronica who sat scornfully watching as Star made her way toward him.

She leaned over his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. The group were too far away to hear what it was but Micheal seemed to like what she said because as she turned around to walk away, he followed. A conversation ensued as they ventured down the pathway, giggling and smiling between themselves, Star gestured to the man's ear presumably offering to pierce it for him.

Veronica remembers when Star had pierced hers, before everything fell apart, before she knew what she was. They would visit the boardwalk and stroll around, like she and the boy were doing now, riding the rollercoasters, eating ice cream, and playing the games set up in the pop-up stalls. They'd visit the beach, let the salt water soak their feet, play music and dance under the moon. But those days are over, Star would much rather walk around with this stranger now.

The boys and Veronica watched as they disappeared around a corner, David took a puff from his cigarette not letting his eyes leave the spot where the two left. The dirty blonds looked slightly uncomfortable in contrast to their former laughing selves, sending glances towards their friend, who sat tensely on her bike. "It'll be okay." An uncharacteristic reassurance came from Paul, peaking out from behind Marko to look at the upset girl. The change in tone became apparent, before the thought of it all as a joke but now Star and the stranger had actually started talking, they realised how quick the tides could turn. If Star goes around becoming friendly with humans they can't be sure how long their secret would stay safe.

David tossed the butt of his cigarette to the side ordering the others to follow him as he peels off in the direction of the recently departed duo. Letting out a sigh of contempt muffled by the sound of roaring engines, Veronica followed the leader down the boardwalk. Stopping not too shortly after as they spot Star with the guy about to climb on his own bike. The bitter woman almost laughed at the petty excuse of a vehicle he drove, it clearly wasn't very powerful and certainly not much to look at.

Star looked slightly frightened by their sudden appearance, not for her own wellbeing rather giving a worried look toward the teenager, who clearly didn't feel safe around the gang circling him. "Where you going, Star?" David mocked the girl, who couldn't even look him in the eyes, "For a ride. This is Michael." She answered, pointing over to the young man. Micheal. So that's the name of the boy trying to steal Star, seduce her away from her rightful family, the only ones of her species around.

Veronica squints her eyes sending him a nasty scowl which he didn't go without noticing, goosebumps prickling the exposed skin of his neck and forearms. He reaches an arm back for Star to grab a hold of, "Let's go." but David doesn't let him get too far, calling out the girl's name. She looked back at the bleach blond, her thoughts playing a game of tug and war with what she should do, before looking at Veronica, her eyes drilling into her head.

Finally, she succumbed to his silent demand, walking back to his bike with her head down. As she was about to throw her leg over the back of his motorcycle, David's sharp voice stopped her in her tracks. "Veronica's bike." She looked up at him in bewilderment but knowing better than to argue, especially in front of company, she obeyed. Positioning herself behind Veronica, she wrapped slim arms around her waist sending ripples of goosebumps across the auburn haired girl's skin. The warmth against cold skin bringing a bout of serotonin through her, almost shivering, it had been quite some time since the two had been skin to skin, allowing their bodies to press up against one another. Curly brunette hair brushing her neck, the familiar scent of her perfume filling the vampire's nostrils, the product remained unchanged in the time she knew her.

Paul let out a chuckle at Michael's embarrassed face, looking at Marko who too looked like he was going to laugh. David's eyes remained on him, sizing him up with an intimidating and clouded look, "You know where Hudson's Bluff is, overlooking the point?" He questioned, accusatory. Michael shifted uncomfortably under the combined vexed gazes of David and Veronica trying not to look at them for too long, already self-conscious around the other males "I can't beat your bike."

David looked amused, "You don't have to beat me, Micheal. You just have to try and keep up." eyebrows raised to emphasise his point. Star shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself further into Veronica's back. Placing a hand on her arm, Veronica looked back "Hold on tight." receiving no response she started her engine following David and the rest.

Hollering and whooping, they all set off down the street making a turn to jump down the stairs leading to the beach. Pedestrians turned to look at the commotion, jumping back when the bikes narrowly passed by them. Sand flew through the air as the gang stormed down their own path, looking between each other letting out cackles and laughs, even Star looked like she was enjoying herself. Letting her hair flow behind her, giggling in Veronica's ear and squeezing her arms around her abdomen. The physical reunion between them seemed to have cheered Veronica up enough for her to join in on the screams of enjoyment.

Marko, by her side, sent a yell her way which she happily returned, the blond grinning at her bounce back from misery. Glancing back, the girl realised Michael was falling behind, which only inflated her ego, the natural sadism of her species prevailing as she enjoyed watching the boy struggle to prove himself. They continued travelling under the pier to the woods, the road becoming bumpy and uneven, something the vampires had become accustomed to but the human trailing behind them seemed to be having more of a struggle.

Eventually, they made it to the more rocky side of town, close to home, either they had slowed down or Michael had got the hang of the path because soon he appeared next to Veronica's bike, making eye contact with Star. Glaring at the unrelenting man, Veronica rammed her bike closer to his, not making contact but getting close enough to make his confidence wobble causing him to fall back a bit. The boys let out a laugh at Michael's panic, David slowing down slightly to slot himself by Veronica, blocking Michael from Star. He looked him deep in the eyes, goading him into going faster, pushing his buttons.

Their surroundings become more foggy the further they go, Michael looks around deliriously trying to find a better way to see but they are surrounded by the murk. His hands begin to shake and soon enough he loses balance, thrown to the side, his bike crashing on top of him, he lays on the floor coughing and clutching his head. He looks up, only then noticing he was at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean, infuriated he gets up, storming up to David. "What the hell are you doing, huh?!" A firm punch landed across the blond's face, his head swivelling to the side.

Star lets out a cry, trying to get off the bike and to the two men but she's held back by a firm grasp around her arm, Veronica holds on tight, not wanting Star to get in between the volatile boys. A hard look is exchanged as Star tries to pull back but the hold is unwavering, Laddie drops off from Dwayne's bike, now abandoned by the man to hold off Michael, running over to the two women, certainly scared by the violence. Gripping onto the skirt of Star, trying to keep far away from the yelling men.

Whatever fight was happening didn't last long with the boys laughing at Michael's 'macho man' persona, not putting much effort into holding him back. David ended up brushing it off as a joke and invited him over to their place to hang out with them and Star. The sound of the woman's name prickles his ears, as he appears to calm down at the prospect of spending time with her, he relents, looking down to the floor and agreeing. Clearly embarrassed by the way he was acting. Laddie reluctantly detached himself from Star, heading back to Dwayne, taking comfort in the man's now calm demeanour. Star gets back on Veronica's bike as well, gently wrapping herself back around the biker.

Fortunately, the cave wasn't too far only about a couple minutes drive from the cliff, they made it there with relative ease. Michael seemed very confused as they dispersed off the bikes and into the mouth of the cave, maybe assuming they were going to an actual house or bar instead of an old wrecked hotel laid under decades of rubble. Intrigued, he follows carefully watching as the boys jump down the steep bed of rocks like nothing, trying to replicate their steps in fear of falling and embarrassing himself further.

On the way down, Dwayne picked up a torch, setting it ablaze with his lighter and using it to light the way. Behind him, Laddie and Paul followed, Paul helping the boy on the way, being as careful as he could be not to let him drop. The remaining blonds trailed behind calmly allowing Star and Veronica to go at their own slow pace. No matter how long she'd been here, Star still feared falling down the acute pathway and Veronica never stopped giving her a helpful hand to hold, to reassure her of her balance.

Michael climbed down with careful footing, his way being suddenly brought to light when Dwayne used the torch to set fire to some old metal bins the gang used as furnaces. "Hit the rock box, buddy!" Paul called out to Laddie, who quickly ran off to grab the stereo. Once they were down, Star awkwardly removed her hand from Veronica's looking away as Michael dropped down beside them. The teen looked around in awe of the dusty old place, clearly not expecting much, never mind a whole set-up. David stood by the old fountain watching Michael's face for a reaction, "Not bad, huh?" he backed away, crossing past Paul, who climbed around the edge of the fountain waiting for Laddie to return. "This was the hottest resort in Santa Clara about 85 years ago. Too bad they built it on a fault. In 1906, when the big one hit San Francisco, the ground opened up and this place took a header," he suddenly clapped his hands to prove his point, making Micheal jump "right into the crack."

In the time it took for him to go into his little monologue, David had circled around the fountain and made his way back to the three still standing by the entrance, a grin spread across his face. Dwayne had lit the final furnace and Paul set up the stereo Laddie had carried back, looking through the tapes for music to play, Marko was nowhere to be found though that wasn't too out of character for him.

David looked the bewildered boy up and down, "And now it's ours." "So check it out, Mikey." Paul laughed, raising a blunt to his mouth with a grin spread across his face, lighting it with the lighter he'd swiped from Dwayne, echoes of laughter filled the cave. Marko returned from wherever he was previously, one of his beloved pigeons clasped in his hands, David called him over and asked him to get them something to eat. Obediently, the blond let his pigeon fly away and turned to leave the way they came, presumably to get some food for the lot.

David put an arm on Michael's shoulder, leading him toward the couches rested at the furthest corner, "That's what I love about this place. You ask, and then you get." he's handed a blunt by Paul as he continues walking around the fountain, giving a thank you. Something Veronica knew was only for show, she hadn't been thanked by him for anything she'd done for him in quite some time, none of them had.

The girl glanced toward Star, whose eyes stayed trained on the two making their way further into the cave. Tapping her on the arm, Veronica nodded her head toward Star's little nook, motioning for her to follow. Star understood, trailing after Veronica to the corner and sitting next to her on the bed. A hand was placed on her knee, giving an affirmative squeeze "You okay?" A coarse voice asked, Veronica cringed, realising not using her voice most of the night was starting to take effect. Looking off to the side, quickly glancing towards the others Star shrugged her shoulders, "As fine as I can be." A curt answer, one that didn't satisfy the question. Not being able to control what came out of her mouth next she turned slightly towards Veronica, "I'm sorry for not talking to you recently. Things have just been..." she didn't finish her sentence but she was understood. A sympathetic look crossed the biker's face, her hand still sat on the knee of Star "I understand," she didn't, she really didn't understand one bit "This must be hard for you." she could understand that, but wasn't the difficulty worth it for her?

Her questions would never be said or answered because right as she was about to speak, Marko jumped down from the ledge announcing his arrival with the food. The girls looked at each other once more before leaving the bed and heading to the main room where Marko was throwing Chinese takeaway boxes to open hands. As they were walking to the couches, Star stopped just a few feet behind David. Veronica, noticing her absence, looked back and motioned for Star to follow with her hand but received nothing except a shake of Star's head. Furrowing her eyebrows, Veronica didn't push simply flopping herself on the couch across from Michael, who was too busy watching Star to notice her. Feeling eyes on him, he turned his head to look at the scorned woman, glaring at him intensely "You okay there, Michael?" it was almost mocking in nature but Michael had become used to it at this point. "Didn't know you talked." he quipped back trying to be as friendly as possible to the ruder one of the lot.

A fake smile was sent his way in return, a box of noodles thrown to her which she caught with ease, not taking her eye off the boy. Becoming uncomfortable, Michael looked at David who handed him a box of rice "No. No, thanks." he tried to refuse but the leader pushed harder "You don't like rice? Tell me, Michael, how could a billion Chinese people be wrong? Come on." To shut David up, Micheal snatches the box, taking a bite. All eyes are on him when "How are those maggots?" Michael freezes, looking at David pointedly "Maggots, Michael. You're eating maggots. How do they taste?". Seeing the rest of the boys laugh, he assumes it's a joke but as he looks down at the contents of the box, he drops it to the ground in panic. Hundreds of fat, white maggots wriggle around in their cardboard container, making Michael's skin crawl.

"Leave him alone." Star plucks up the courage to speak, keeping her scarf close to herself. The boys laugh together, ignoring the girl's protest but Veronica turns to make eye contact, shaking her head as if to say 'don't interfere'. It wasn't until Michael looked down to the disregarded box that he realised, it was rice. He had been hallucinating, embarrassed at his reaction, he wiped his mouth. David let out a weak apology offering another box of food towards him, before he could even take it he noticed the wiggling pink flesh intertwined together; worms, the box filled to the brim with the earthly creatures. "They're worms." He looked like he was on the verge of throwing up, Veronica sat across from him cracking a grin at his discomfort. Before Michael could warn him otherwise, David used the chopsticks to lift the contents of the box into his mouth. Just as Michael was about to freak out he realised, it was simply noodles David started chewing.

Having enough of the torment, Star stepped forward to stop David "Enough." but she was brushed off without another thought. David motioned Marko forward, whispering something in his ear which sent Marko to the other side of the room. Soon enough, he returned with something in his hands and Veronica's interest peaked, she leaned over to see what he was holding. Her body becoming colder than it already was, eyes widened in surprise, lips going slightly slack, if she had a beating heart it would be pounding out of her chest.

Placed in David's hands was a regal wine bottle, to humans it would seem like it contained centuries-old wine but Veronica knew better. "David." His name escaped her mouth like an instinct, looking for reassurance from him but he spared her not even a glance. "David." Again, his name passed her lips but nothing was returned.

Star scurried over to Michael, who became very confused at the sudden silence. David took a quick swig from the bottle, a grimace passed over his face before he leaned forward "Drink some of this, Michael. Be one of us."

Her heart dropped. Betrayal was the only emotion she could feel right now although the word betrayal didn't feel strong enough for what she felt pounding through her body, rushing through her veins like ice. Michael lifted himself up and off the couch, retrieving the bottle from David's hand. The pain in her chest blooms as the others start chanting for him, goading him to drink it. Her self-proclaimed 'brothers' encourage the man who is actively trying to become involved with Star to join their family. Star rushed behind him "Don't. You don't have to, Michael."

Paul butted in voicing his disagreement, twisting her head to look at the rest of them, Veronica shook her head in disbelief. "It's blood." The warning came out as a whisper but Michael heard it, he didn't, however, want to make himself look like an idiot again. He took a large gulp from the bottle making the boys scream in approval, jumping in the air, treating this like a joyous celebration.

Not being able to take it anymore, Veronica stood up from her seat and beelined for the entrance of the cave, not looking back at the boys as they celebrated, clearly not caring about her departure. The night was still young, cold air blew in the upset girl's face threatening to expose the tears already brimming. She hunched over trying to catch the breath she didn't need but found comfort in, hands pressed firmly on her knees. There's no way she has any hope now, Star was already slowly separating herself from her but now the man she finds interest in has taken the first step to becoming one of them, what chances does she have now?

The feeling of bile made itself apparent, crawling up her throat like the hallucinations David had enforced earlier. She couldn't stick around, they'd surely come out to continue their initiation, they did it for her all those years back. Maybe they'd do it for her replacement too. She knew she'd caused some strain between them with her situation with Star but she didn't think it would make them do this.

Pulling herself together, Veronica stood to her full height walking to her bike, revving the engine, not caring if the boys heard. She had no idea where she'd go but she'd rather be anywhere but here.

Light poured through the entrance of the cave, covering the rocks and posters with a shade of yellow. The time when the dead slept and the living arose, but not today. In a hole in the wall, hidden away from the light, four panicked vampires congregated, wringing their hands, tapping their feet against the floor, pacing in what little room they had. Tension thick in the air as none of them spoke, all looking to their leader who was hunched over, sat on a boulder by the back of the hideout. The look on his face unreadable but the boys could tell he was distraught by the possibilities passing by in his mind.

"I just don't get it." A voice broke the silence, echoing between its rocky confines. Paul sat the closest to the exit being careful not to edge too close to the light, one knee to his chest and the other sprawled out, his fingers fiddling with the loose strings of his bracelet. Melancholy followed his statement with nobody answering him "I get she'd be mad at us but why would she not come home?"

Silence. Nothing but the sound of Marko's boots hot on the floor, pacing back and forth, trying his best to let off steam but the prospect of not being able to go outside and do something grating on his mind, fingers twitching as he lifted them up to bite. Dwayne looked down at Paul from where leaned against the wall, sadness written on his features "She'll come back."

But would she? They have done something irreparable and in the process, alienated their only sister. None of them had chosen for Michael to be the one to join the family but their choice didn't matter. Either way, it was too late, they had no idea where Veronica was and they'd have to wait until nightfall to go looking.

"But, what if she..." Paul looked back at Dwayne with concern, but the brunette quickly shut it down "There are plenty of places to hide from the sun apart from the cave, Paul." Of course, that had been their top concern when she didn't return home before the sun woke up, but they knew she was smart, she'd probably hidden out in a cellar or an attic in some unsuspecting occupant's house. But there's always a possibility that she hadn't and that thought rattled their mind.

Not much else was said for the rest of the day, Marko managed to catch up on some sleep, hanging by the entrance close to Paul, who couldn't seem to close his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. David didn't say a lot if anything, suffering his own battles in his mind. When the sun slowly lowered down past the ocean, the boys were practically on their toes to get out to the entrance of the cave.

As soon as all light disappeared fully, they rushed out heading to the upwards path, but soon they were cut off by a frantic Star "Did Veronica come home last night?" she stood in front of David who looked as if he didn't want to speak to her at all nevermind right now. "No. We're going out to look for her." Simple and blunt he barged past her with little regard but she wasn't done asking questions, stepping in front of him once more "Is she okay?" Desperation dripping from her voice, devastated by the idea of her not coming home for good.

David pushed passed once more, a rougher voice came from him this time "How are we supposed to know? That's why we're going out to look for her." the boys followed him out, walking around Star, who watched them in panic.

The air was misty and cold, blowing their hair in their faces, even their enhanced vision couldn't see through the fog cast over the seaside. Using his hand to shield his eyes, Marko looked towards David, or who he presumed was David, and yelled out over the sound of the whistling wind "Where are we supposed to look for her?" The gruff voice responded, confirming its identity "We'll head off to the boardwalk first, if she's not there we'll have to split up."

And so they did, taking their bikes out to their usual hangout spot, hoping she had some sense and decided to wait for them. She hadn't. When they got to the red gates, she was nowhere in sight. Kicking his bike in frustration, Marko was the first to start walking around the area, fist balled furiously by his side. "I don't get it, why isn't she here?" Paul questioned, looking side to side with his head urgently, clearly growing more concerned. David sighs "I don't know." The blond turns to look at him "You don't think she's..." he trails off, not wanting to finish the thought aloud. "I don't know!" David became more frustrated, snapping back. Before the blond could continue, Dwayne suddenly interrupted "Wait." raising his hand in the air "Follow me." he was quick to move past the rest of them, manoeuvring through the crowd with ease the rest of them following behind.

It was no secret Dwayne was the best tracker, there was no doubt he had Veronica's scent. Trust for him allowed the boys to tail after him until they got a more remote part of the sea front, small businesses and mom-and-pop shops lining the street and less people walked down the roads. The scent became stronger for the lot of them, exploding in their senses when they rounded a corner into an alley.

Footsteps stuttering when they saw the unmistakable figure leaning on the wall at the other end. With her arms crossed over her chest, Veronica didn't acknowledge the group stampeding towards her choosing to ignore them as if she didn't purposely set herself up somewhere she knew they'd find. Suddenly, a smack was delivered to the back of her head, letting out a sharp slap that echoed through the alley, "Ow!" a pained yell escaped her mouth as she reached up to grip her head. "What were you thinking, huh?!" Marko yelled, "You know how freaked we were when you didn't come back?!" Although his voice was raised the fear in it didn't go unnoticed, Veronica looked him in the eyes with sympathy but the words that followed didn't match up "Oh, you cared, did you? Would've thought you'd replace me with Michael by now."

A series of shocked and hurt expressions took over the group, a bewildered scoff came from Marko as he stepped closer to Veronica "What are you talking about? Why would you even think something like that?" It was her turn to scoff now "How could I think that?" she shook her head in disbelief, looking around to stare at anything but the boys, trying to keep her composure and not let the burning liquid in her tearducts fall. "You knew how I felt about him. You know how I've been feeling for months! And yet you still changed him. Why?" When none of them answered, she continued "I've been so hurt and I've shown you that. Nights where we should've been having fun I've spent crying to you!" Although the yell is directed at all of them, she makes eye contact with the brunette in particular, both of them knowing it was him who stuck by her the most in her sad nights.

"So, yeah, I'm wondering if you do care about me." She finished, tears threatening to spill although she made no move to wipe them. No answer came, even as the seconds turned into a minute, letting out a sad laugh she turned to walk away "Yeah, that's what I thought." Her boots tread on the gravel with each footstep, about to exit the other side of the alley. "Max." Everything stopped, an abscess in sound formed and no more steps were taken. All placebo breathing is gone and no one moves. The name they never spoke of was spoken, so matter of factly that Veronica couldn't believe she even heard it in the first place.

David looked at her cooly from where he stood at the end of the alley, his head turned slightly to meet eyes when she swivelled back around, "He told us we had to. That he wanted Michael's mom and the only way he could get her is if we changed him. We had no choice."

Of course, they didn't. No vampire could resist the order of their sire, she knew that but a new question formed in her mind. "Why didn't you tell me?" She gestured towards herself with her hand aggressively "Don't you trust me?" Dwayne intervened, lifting a hand up to reason "Now, you know that's not true." Paul, who had been uncharacteristically quiet through the confrontation, finally spoke up "We didn't know how to tell you! We're sorry, V, we're so sorry." A beg of forgiveness shattered her heart, deep down she knew it was true, as she looked in his pleading eyes she felt guilt form in her.

She couldn't bear to look at him anymore, letting her gaze fall to the wall, the next words were a whisper "Yeah, well, you should have told me." a hand clasped her shoulder making her look up. Dwayne had appeared before her looking at her with a small smile, "We know. Like Paul said, we're sorry. We just wanted to protect you but clearly we failed." he gently squeezed her shoulder trying to comfort the best he could.

A sigh passed her lips and she let herself look back to the rest of the boys, all stood hopeful for her to accept the apology "Let's go home." Cheers erupted from Paul whose spirits were clearly lifted, he barged past the brunette, who gave him an offended look, taking a hold of Veronica's shoulder and pulling her with him down the alley "That's more like it, babe! Let's go back to the cave and party!" Marko joined on the other side, the anger he had been feeling previously forgotten.

"You know, Star's been worried about you." Paul remarked nudging her with his hip, she scoffed in response letting her arms rest around both boys "Yeah, right! Like she'd care." The other two trailed behind them but not too far away for David to quip back "You'd be surprised." Paul let out a cackle "Yeah, she was all like 'Oh my god, you have to find her and save her and bring her back so I can smooch her and show her how much I love her'" he put on an obnoxiously high-pitched 'girly' voice, leaning down to pretend kiss Veronica's face.

This seemed to brighten her up a bit, a smile spread across her lips as she tried pushing away the hyper man, wiggling as Marko held her still, laughing at his friend's antics. David and Dwayne chuckled as they watched, overtaking them to the bikes "Come on, we don't have all night." the leader called out. The three rowdy teens stopped messing around to run back to their bikes, "Yes, Mom." Veronica joked starting her bike, the others laughed with her as David shook his head, pretending to be unimpressed.

They all peeled off back onto the road, driving past the pedestrians trying to cross the street, receiving angry yells in return. They laughed amongst themselves as they journeyed back to the cave, following the distinctive path they'd set over the years, a quicker route than what they'd taken the once-human now half-vampire on, less bumpy too.

The entrance of the cave came into view not too long after their departure, they slowed themselves to a stop off to the side, stashing their bikes by one of the large rocks outside the cave, hiding them away. The boys ran inside before Veronica, who stood motionless by the mouth of the den looking suddenly anxious, David gave her a nod of his head before disappearing with them. Tensing her hands she followed the group in, slowly walking down the pathway. Paul ran to grab the stereo and Marko left presumably to see his pigeons, Dwayne and David sat on the couches starting a conversation about something Veronica couldn't be bothered to take notice of, turning to go to her corner where she kept her comics.

"Veronica!" Star came rushing out from behind the sheets hanging from the ceiling, almost bumping into the woman before she came to a stop. A hand placed on her arm, looking up at her slightly, "Are you okay? Why didn't you come back last night?" looking over her instinctively to see if she was harmed. Returning a hand on her shoulder, Veronica reassured her with a gentle touch "I'm fine. I just wanted some time to myself." An angry look crossed Star's face "Some time to yourself? Veronica, we've spent all day worrying about you!" Still hung up with the confrontation earlier, the brunette sighed "I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to. Why don't you go to Micheal to take your mind off it?" Scrunching her eyebrows at the subtle dig, Star removed her hand backing up slightly "And what's that supposed to mean?".

Veronica shrugged "It means what it means, you can go to Micheal and forget about me like you've been doing for days now." An offended scoff came from Star, shocked at the accusation she moved past the brunette and stormed out of the hideout into the night leaving an upset Veronica behind. She turned to look at the boys to see they were already staring back awkwardly, trying not to look at them for too long she continued walking to her stash of comics, settling in the beanbag chair pushed into a sharp corner. Trying to ignore the eyes of the rest trained on her.

-----

The night went by painfully slow, no one spoke much and Veronica was actually pleased when the sun was about to rise, wasting no time to huddle back up in the nest. Completely ignoring the gang when they awoke the following night, she chose to head straight out to the boardwalk.

Throwing back rounds of liquor that wouldn't truly affect her, Veronica stood in a run-down old bar, leaning with her hands gripping the edge of the counter, putting her weight down on it. Trying to drown her sorrows in shots of the strongest the bar had, paying with money she'd stolen from her victims. The burning of the liquor pouring down her throat not affecting her in the slightest, the pain from not feeding for too long numbing her senses to any kind of other pain. The bartender looked at her with a raised brow, an oldish fellow with greying hair, wiping the cups in front of him "You okay there?" he inquired.

She swallowed the brown liquid and looked up at him with glazed eyes, her voice came out rougher than expected, "Fine." She looked back down to another shot lined up, her last one, about to pick it up to take one last gulp "I wouldn't be too sure of that." Turning around, Veronica straightened up when she saw David stood by the entrance with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Groaning, the brunette looked back down to her drink picking it up to throw it back when it was plucked out of her grasp by a gloved hand, David swallowed the drink without a grimace setting the glass back on the counter. "Gee, thanks." Veronica replied to the abrupt theft, David grinned back like he was proud, which he likely was, "No problem."

Looking up at the bartender, seeing he was no longer paying attention, David leaned down to be in earshot "Why don't you go back before you end up doing the impossible and getting wasted?" she rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the counter sending a nasty look David's way, but she knew he was right so she headed out. Clambering on her bike, she setting off down the road, for humans this would be a life-threatening decision but Veronica knew she'd be fine. After all, the dead can't die twice.

The ride back home always seems a lot longer without the boys by her side causing trouble, the path to home more bumpy than she remembers, less fun than when she's racing them down it. But the shortcut was still pretty quick, especially from where the bar had been, closer to the cliffs than the actual boardwalk itself. She climbed off her bike setting it aside when she noticed another bike sat in their usual spot, red in colour and quite small she recognised it immediately. Rushing into the cave, skipping quite a few steps on the way down she looked around for the boy but before she could call out for an answer, she heard it.

In the back of the cave, in Star's 'bedroom' rustling and muffled noises sounded. Curious but cautious, Veronica crept forward gently pulling back a blanket slung across the entrance when she saw them. Locked in a lover's embrace, littering kisses across one another's bodies, their upper bodies bare and their lowers covered by a blanket. It was as if time froze, the mortified woman stood silent watching the intimate moment unfold, breath caught in her throat. They didn't notice her, too enthralled with each other to pay attention to anything else.

Finally, Veronica was able to come to her senses and turn away, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. She felt bile rise up in the back of her throat, threatening to spill out the contents of her stomach, suddenly regretting the pints of alcohol she had consumed. She stumbled away, her body begging for a way to release the pressure building in her, wishing for the ability to sweat again for the first time in her immortal life. She had to ground herself by leaning on one of the walls, the noises still playing in the back of her mind, taunting her.

Stumbling slightly, she ventured back up to her nest trying her best to ignore what was happening in the other room. Once through the small passage, she snuggled into the spare blankets slung across the floor, pressing her head into the sort fabric to drown out the foul noises infiltrating the walls. Hands on her knees, she rocked back and forth just to keep herself moving, hoping it'd make time pass quicker.

-----

Veronica wasn't too sure how long it had been since she crawled in her hole but the noises had stopped quite some time ago, not that she'd noticed, her memory still replaying the awful racket in mind like it wanted to torture her on purpose. Hunched with her back to the wall, legs crossed and blanket still covering her lower half, she peaked up at the sound of a new noise entering the dark zone, joyous and playful she recognised it as her brothers returning from town. Mentally preparing herself for the earful and awkwardness she was about to experience, she tried straightening up but struggled with numb limbs and the migraine that washed over her as soon as she made an attempt to move, groaning in discomfort.

"Woah, what happened to you?" A boisterous voice asked from the entrance, walking with loud footsteps to stand in front her. Paul looked down in amusement at the sight of his tipsy sister, nudging her with his foot, receiving a weak attempt at a slap in return. Laughing with Marko, who just arrived, he crouched down to try and catch a glance at her face.

Veronica wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to look up at the two boys who were now being joined by the remaining two of the group. "You know, drinking your problems away isn't going to help." Dwayne looked down almost disappointed by the state in front of him, but the smaller brunette couldn't seem to care less, simply giving a shrug "Well, sure as hell feels like it does."

David stood in front of Veronica with an annoyed expression dawned on his features "You need to stop this, you can't keep moping forever." A nasty look presented itself on the girl's face, trying her best to look up at David as she responded "Oh, yeah? And what do you suggest I do?" The bleach blond leaned down to pull off her boots "Well for starters, you can sleep off the gallon of booze you cleared." he yanked her up suddenly, ignoring her protests. The world starts to spin and she wanted nothing more than to sit back down and close her eyes but David stops for no one, flying up to the top of the nest to the rafters where they slept. Looking at her pointedly, like a stern father, he motions her towards them. An annoyed sigh echoed as she used her flight to hang upside down from the bars, using her feet now transformed into claw-like attachments. The rest of the boys joined her side, hanging close by her to settle in before the sun fully rose. Although she fought it, the black screen of sleep blinded her vision and her thoughts slowly dwindled to nothing.

-----

When her eyes snapped back open, it was dark once more. Veronica looked to her side and realised the boys were gone, unfolding her arms, she peered at the small clock face wrapped around her wrist, 3:45. She must have slept through both day and night, her body trying to work off the toxins consumed by her the night before. Dropping from the rafters, she peeked out from the hideout into the main part of the cave, completely desolate and abandoned, she assumed the boys must have left for the boardwalk. She wondered if she had enough time to hunt before the sun came up. Not having anything to eat for two days finally taking effect on her body, feeling groggy and tired she leapt down into the lobby, heading for the exit, when she noticed a figure sitting on the couches alone.

Approaching steadily, Veronica recognised Star with her hands rested on her lap, zoned out staring at the wall behind the opposite couch. Jumping when she realised someone was behind her, Star looked up at Veronica wide-eyed. "Oh, it's you." she looked down at her hands. Raising her eyebrows, Veronica stared at her "Well, hello to you too." the sarcasm in her tone made the sat girl snap her head back up to look at her "I didn't mean it like that. I just..." she trailed off, staring off in thought "I've been going through a lot." fingers fiddling on the fabric of her skirt.

Veronica plopped down on the next pillow over, an arm resting on the back of the couch. Star avoided eye contact with her until she spoke up again "Yeah, and what's that?". Feeling a pair of eyes staring at her, Veronica slowly meets their gaze, brown meeting brown. Star's lips slack a bit to try and say something but she doesn't, a guilty look on her face and her cheeks pale. The sound of the old leak in the back on the right side of the cave tapping like a clock, reminding them of their time and taunting them as they sat awkwardly in their spots. "Um, nothing important." she broke the contact, turning back around to stare at what she had been before, she wanted so badly to admit what she'd done but Veronica could see the fear of consequences deep in her.

Scooching closer, Veronica leaned down slightly to look at Star "I know." The look on the woman's face would be hysterical to her if it hadn't been for the circumstances, shame blatant on her face which now tried to bow from view. "About what?" Voice cracking, giving away her already shaky facade. A scoff passed Veronica's parted lips "You know exactly what I'm talking about." the 'exactly' emphasized sending an echo through the cave. Shaking her head, Star looked up "It's none of your business." the pain that one sentence caused the dark-auburn haired girl unexplainable, is this what they had come to? She thought.

What came from her mouth next was a surprise even to herself, "Well, You didn't seem think that when I was the one to protect you from the boys. Maybe I should let them kill you like they always wanted to, if I'm clearly not important enough for you." wide eyes stare back at her but she paid them no mind, getting up from the couch and making her way out of the cave.

Refreshing air wafting in her face, she took in a deep breath of the cool fog trying to hold her composure. A hand raised to brush through tussled hair, she peered out to the ocean watching the waves crash into each other. About to turn around and walk away, the boys appeared only a few feet infront of her, covered head to toe in blood, their clothing ripped and muddy. "What the hell happened to you?" Veronica looked them up and down, shocked at the state of them. They were always messy feeders but they had never come home looking like this before.

They all walked forward but Paul was the one to wrap an arm around her shoulders, "Messing with Mikey." he chuckled, pulling her along back towards the cave. She resists, planting her feet to stop the blond from moving her. Looking back, Paul raised his eyebrows "Something wrong?" The others stopping behind them puzzled as to why they weren't moving, confusion turned to concern when they saw the pale look across Veronica's face. "Hey, you okay?" Dwayne peered down at her, hand placed on her shoulder, still covered in blood.

A sigh passed Veronica's lips, not saying much but it wasn't needed because the boys already understood "Trouble in paradise, huh?" David passed by the group and headed down into the cave, a glare sent his way. "Me and Star got into a fight." Marko huffed as he followed the leader "Yeah, what else is new?". Frustrated with their humour, Veronica shoved past the boys and headed down the path, "Hey! Where you going?" Paul called after her. "To eat!" She continued storming down the rocky turaine until she was out of sight, thoughts whirling like a storm in her head.

It felt like some kind of torture. Hiding away in the nest, isolating herself from Star. Once so desperate for her attention now trying her best to keep away. Like an alcoholic on a clean streak, she tried her best to stop herself from giving into temptation. She had no doubt Star would be out visiting him, forgetting all about her existence for a short while. The thought made her sick but it was a hard truth. Even now as she hangs upside down next to her brothers, trying to conform to sleep, she thinks about what Star is doing, she wonders if Michael has stayed over once more.

Is she making plans to see him? Is she forming an intimate relationship with him? More than just the sex and banter they had shared previously? Has she finally done away with her after months of building a bond? What if- shriek. Snapping her eyes open, Veronica whipped her head to the sound of the noise. Three boys stood off to the side, balancing on the rocks jutting out of the wall, two of them she couldn't recognise but the one closest to the floor she identified as the boy that had been hanging around Michael on the boardwalk. In the hand of one of them is a stake, now covered in dark shiny blood.

Realisation hit her when the sight of Marko flailing caught the corner of her eye. Blood flowing out of him at an alarming rate, splattering the walls. The gang, sensing the attack close to her, jumped into action, flying off their places at the teens, trying their best to grab a hold of them. However, they were too quick, squirming their way out through the way they came, only just escaping David who managed to grab one of their ankles. A hiss passing through his lips when the light caught his hand.

Quickly remembering the injured, Veronica turned around to look at Marko, now laying on the floor with Dwayne and Paul surrounding him. Hurriedly running over to them, she looked the boy up and down to find his injury. His heart. Penetrated clean through with the jagged wood, there was no way to save him now, but that didn't stop them from trying. Multiple hands roam around desperately trying to pull his shirt off to get a better look at his wound. A retch escaped Paul's mouth when the ulcerating puncture revealed itself, the thick dark blood oozing out at an uncontrollable rate spreading down Marko's chest, down his stomach and making its way onto the rest of them. Dwayne placed his hand down hard on Marko's chest, causing a pained groan to escape him, tears stream down his reddened face as he whimpers incoherently. Veronica reached out to place a hand on his cheek, stroking it with her thumb "It'll be okay. It'll be fine." but her tone said otherwise, eyes darting back and forth between the wound that Dwayne was trying to stop bleeding and Marko's clouded eyes.

Slow blinks became far and few between, the panicked heave of his chest coming to a gradual stop. Marko stared off head-on into nothing. He was dead.

-----

Wails and sobs echoed off the cold stone walls, some loud enough to cause their ears to ring but they couldn't care about that now. The pain taking over their hearts is more painful than any physical discomfort could ever bring. It had been going on for hours, Paul curled up on the floor clinging on to what was once Marko, now just a dead body with no soul. Dwayne and David sat off to the side, the brunette held his head in his hands trying to process what had happened and the blonde had his fists clenched, a cigarette between his fingers as an escapism which wasn't working. Veronica leaned against the wall trying to keep calm through the panic, her fingers messing with the sleeves of her jacket, eyes darting around anywhere but behind her, where the tragedy has taken place.

Through the grief, a prominent thought stuck out in her mind, was Star okay? If what she had suspected was true and Micheal had orchestrated this, did he steal Star? Was she safe? There's no way she would've let him do this, was there? The more she contemplated it the more unsure she became, the two of them had been very distant lately and they had a fair few arguments but that wouldn't warrant this, surely.

It appeared Dwayne had a similar thought on his mind although about Laddie, he hoped they wouldn't go as far as hurting the little boy but knowing vampire hunters, he didn't think it was too far fetched. The group hadn't said a word after they realised he was truly gone, they would much rather well in their own pity and anger. The sun was almost down and Veronica could tell David was desperate to get out, cigarette discarded on the floor and jacket thrown on, she similarly waited at the entrance watching the light slowly ebb away. It took Dwayne placing a gentle hand on Paul's shoulder to make him snap back to reality, eyes red from the constant crying, he reluctantly let Marko's body rest on the floor as the brunette helped him up. The sun was gone "Come on."

It didn't take more than David's words to make them soar out of the cave, out into the new night and down the trail of the boys' scents. All the pain from before morphing into complete and utter rage, growling as they flew through the air the group surveying the land below until they caught eye of the young blond boy from before. They dived down to chase the boy, Paul in the lead, causing him to scream in panic pulling his husky dog with him by its leash. Luckily for him he managed to squeeze through the front door of his home and lock it in time to get away from the predators. Letting out an angry huff, Paul gave a defiant punch to the locked door.

"Split up." David instructed before rounding the corner of the building, Veronica decided to take the upper window on the left, swooping through with ease and landing on the carpeted floor. It appears to be someone's bedroom, maybe Michael's or his brother's, but the brunette doesn't stop to take in the scenery, running out into the hallway looking side to side for anyone. Although she wanted to get revenge for her fallen brother, Veronica's top priority currently was to find Star and make sure she was safe, only then would she exact vengeance.

About to exit down the end of the passage, a body collided with her own knocking her slightly, immediately on guard Veronica seized the offender with a harsh grasp, yanking them away from her body to look at them directly. The aggressive growl about to pass her lips quietened when she recognised the girl she was looking for. A look of relief passed her face and the grip on the girl's arms loosened, Veronica quickly looked her over with her eyes relieved when she saw no obvious injuries. Star clutched her desperately as pleas for both help and mercy babbled incoherently from her, "Please, I'm sorry, you can't let them get me." she buried her face in the vampire's shoulder. Veronica wrapped her arm around her and pulled her impossibly closer surveying the area for the vampire hunters she assumed had been in pursuit of her.

"Okay, let's go." Veronica gently ordered leading Star down to the stairs. Suddenly, the sound of a scream came from behind them, whipping their heads around in unison, they noticed the voice sounded very young. "Laddie." Star whispered pushing herself out of the brunette's hold and sprinting down the hallway, "Star!" Veronica panicked but the girl didn't listen, already disappearing into a different room. Catching up to her, Veronica entered the room where Star stood with Laddie behind her guarding him away from the young vampire hunters now closing in on them "Get away from him! You just stay away from him! He's just a little boy." Veronica stepped in front of them both causing the boys to raise their weapons "Jesus Christ!" the boy dressed in military attire screamed "Let's kill it!" the one with a bandana wrapped around his head yelled. Charging forward they were quickly discarded by the vampire, shoving the camo clad one to the side and grabbing the other one by the throat and throwing him at the opposite wall, narrowly missing the window only slightly.

A gasp passed Star's lips as she cowered in the corner, the young boy still pressed behind her. Veronica watched as the hunters quickly got up and rushed out of the room and into the bathroom. Not wanting them to get away with what they did so easily, she followed pushing the bathroom door open and running in only faltering when she saw the macabre scene waiting for her. The walls and floor are covered in thick blood, water dripping off every surface, but it got so much worse when she caught sight of the bathtub. Nestled deep in the tub, a skeleton stripped bare of its flesh sat with water up to its shoulders. If it hadn't been for the jacket wrapped around it's bones Veronica wouldn't have realised who it was. "Paul." A heartbroken whisper passed her lips as she turned away from the scene, unable to stomach the sight any longer.

Quickly departing from the room and into the hallway, running down the stairs and into the living room. From one murder scene to another, the body of Dwayne is laid in pieces by a busted stereo, his body parts strewn around messily. Turning her head she only brought more pain to herself, David's body hung impaled on the horns of an animal skull rested on the wall. They're all dead. All of them. Tears stung Veronica's cheeks as she hiccuped, she almost succumbed to a pathetic weeping state until she saw Michael step forward to leer over her dead brother's body "You!" Michael whipped his head around to the call of his name, standing on guard when he saw the lone vampire.

Lunging forward, Veronica grabbed Michael by the throat, squeezing down on his air pipe. The half-vampire mirrored her actions, trying to push her away from his neck with his other hand. A panicked yell came from the stairs the vampire had descended only moments prior, coming closer quickly "Stop!" It was Star. "Stop it, both of you!" she begged but was ignored immediately. Baring her teeth at the halfling, Veronica lunged forward again taking a bite out of his face, a pained yell escaped him, his agony reflected in the way he tightened his grip around her throat. It wasn't until his gaze looked past her and his eyes widened that his fist loosened and Veronica had a chance to glance at what he was looking at.

Behind her, Star stood with a thick stake raised in her hand, an unsure look on her face "Both of you need to stop." She used the piece of wood to gesture at both of them as a threat, all three of them knew she wouldn't be able to carry out on her threat barely having the courage to stand up to the two fighting. With Michael's grip loosened, Veronica managed to squeeze herself out of his grasp and toward Star who was clearly in distress "Star, put that down. You're not going to use it we both know that. Just come to me and put it down." Before she could get a response she felt a harsh shove to her back push her forward, suddenly she was only centimeters from Star's face, chest to chest, the feeling of being punched shooting through her. It was only when she pulled back did she realise the stake in Star's hand had penetrated her chest and impaled itself in her heart.

A gag jumped from Veronica's throat stumbling back and looking down at the damage. Star's shock is apparent on her face, becoming clear she never intended to use such a weapon on her. Reaching her arms out to Veronica as she fell to the ground, the sound of the impact and the pained gasp echoing through the room. Her blood staining the floorboards below her, the brunette looked at Star in desperation as she leaned over her. Gargled gasps came instead of the words she tried to speak, a lost attempt to lift herself up failing. "Oh God." taking a fist full of Veronica's jacket to steady herself, Star looked down in what could only be described as guilt.

Guilt. For what she had done or at the very least enabled. A series of 'Oh, no's and 'Oh god's fell from her lips like gospel, as if chanting it would make the situation any better. A gentle hand tried its best to stroke hair out of Veronica's face, clearing her vision. Spluttered coughs rattled her body, straining her lungs with a burning sensation spreading across her chest. Looking over the immobile body before her, Star let out a weep that shattered the dying girl's soul, trying her best to reach up to her but the attack had made too weak.

Star grabbed her hands and held them together in her own "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Apologies flowing out of her mouth desperately, tears uncontrollably pouring out of her eyes and down her cheeks, some even landed in the lying girl. Her image soon became a shadowy figure to Veronica's struggling eyes, the strong effort she made to keep them open soon dissolving along with the muscles in her neck trying to prop her head up. "I'm sorry." Star repeated "Please don't go. I didn't mean to." The remaining vision Veronica upheld turned dark, her once lively eyes became glazed and unfocused. "No. No, don't." Star begged, tears now blurring her own vision.

A final breath raised her bloodied chest and then; nothing.

#star the lost boys #the lost boys #the lost boys oc #character x oc #the lost boys 1987 #star tlb #oc x canon #the lost boys x reader

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

How TVD Could Have Been 10,000 Times Better:

(Some Creative Writing Disguised as an Essay)

Look, I think we're all aware that TVD sucks. But that doesn't mean it had to be that way. The CW ruined plenty of shows; SPN, TVD, TO, Legacies, Arrow - I could go on. In spite of weak plot or disappointing endings, these shows had some excellent character concepts and could have been so much better if someone had put just a touch of creative thought into them.

Now, I can't pretend to know much about acting or the world of production, and I can't say I could actually direct anything effectively, but I do have something of an artistic eye. So if I had been the one to direct something like TVD, then I can guarantee that at least the cinematography and music choice would have been ten times better.

Allow me to demonstrate.

Example One:

Do y'all remember the scene where Klaus breaks his curse? (Of course you do.) Let's face it, there are plenty of very cheap, practical tricks that could have made that scene feel ten times as natural and formidable. But, for now, let's just focus on camera and music. The ending to that particular episode with that big, frightening cliffhanger was alright. But you know what could have made it that much better?

Some gosh darn cinematography. So, picture this, if you will:

The full moon has passed it's apex and now sets over the tops of the trees - the forest beyond is black as night. On the edge of the trees, a lone wolf - wild and fierce - is seen prowling into the woods and the camera spins, flipping upside down and you realize... The moon isn't going down at all, it's only just begun to rise. The eerie howls of a wolf pack can be heard in the distance as Feelin' Good by Michael Buble plays full blast....

Significantly better, right? Let's have another.

Example Two:

In season 4, Kol (aka the love of my life) slaughters a bar full of freshly turned vampires. Such would have been an excellent opportunity to exploit the show's TV-14 rating for use of gore, and seeing as vampires aren't technically human, that gives a show a little extra leniency with its gore total. (TVD rarely used gore to it's fullest potential, just a little bit of set dressing and makeup can really drive a scene home. Just watch The Originals: The Awakening web series. That was well used gore.)

Now, even after all the show did to dismiss him, Kol is still a reasonably intimidating character. However, that extra carnage allotment could have been used to create a truly terrifying antagonist. Instead, the show chose to reduce a one-thousand-year-old being's massacre of a dozen or more relatively innocent people to some vague off-screen unfortunate mishap. This was - pardon my French - AN ABSOLUTE PUSSY MOVE!

They could have shown the kills and brought all the horror, without breaking the season's gore total. How? Why like this of course...

The woods are quite dark, but not black. The old pine trees lining a well-traveled dirt road are individually discernable but only just, lit in tones of grey. It's just barely sunrise, yet shadowy figures seem to flit through the dim light. The camera angle is set on the ground, like a person lying in the dirt.

An early morning fog creeps along, pooling in the clearing provided by the path as it carves its way through these forboding woods. The fog rolls and shifts - you're unsure if something or someone has disturbed it. You wait - another moment, another heartbeat - and then you see it: A tall, shadowed silhouette appears through the fog - small and faint at first but growing clearer, stronger as he approaches, much like the music that begins to play - heard by the viewers through the dark figure's headphones. The terrible stranger stalks closer and closer, seeming to grow larger than life, thanks to the camera angle which changes as he passes. The camera moves with him, circling around him once in one continuous shot before settling just a short distance behind. The song heard in his headphones is Stayin' Alive by Bee Gees' and he sways to the beat - casually, carelessly - as he walks toward that absolute dump of a bar.

The figure opens the door and the music becomes just a bit muffled as the door swings shut behind him. The song continues for a moment - just a second or three - calm and ordinary as one would expect and then

BAM!

BLOOD SPRAYS ACROSS A WINDOW!

Suddenly, the audio is no longer confined to those headphones; it expands outward, and now intertwined with the music, the audience hears the screams, the pleas, and the tortured cries of those poor souls as they're slaughtered like pigs. One by one, the screams cut off until it's once again only the music. Then, just as you thought it was all finally over, there's a loud crash - the door opens with a bang and you see a pair of hands latch onto the doorframe. They scrabble and scratch, burning under the faintest touch of sunlight. Something tugs at them, drawing them back inside, but they fight! Then, with a spray of blood across the camera, the hands go slack and are yanked back inside.

The screen goes black and the music stops...

See what I mean?

With just a little bit of camera creativity and a dash of practical effects, TVD could have been so much better, right?

#my name is cas and i write stuff #kol mikaelson #fanfic #klaus mikaelson #the originals #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #fandom rant #tvdu #tvd fandom #tvd fanfic #tvd rant #kol mikaelson headcanons #kol mikaelson fanfiction #kol mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson edit #klaus mikealson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson headcanon #the originals headcanon #the originals fandom #the originals fan fiction #tvdu fanfiction #stefan salvatore #stefan salavatore x reader #long rant #but I don't care #im right #elijah mikaelson x reader #rebekah mikaelson x reader

[anon-e-miss]

Primus Help the Outcasts - 9

“Happy Festivus!” The Twins exclaimed as Prowl and his creations stepped into their grandcreators’ living room.

Smokescreen and Bluestreak slipped the gifts they had gathered for their friends in chests at thr\e of the shrine and sat with the Twins as the Polyhexian mechlings showed them some of their new treasures. Prowl stood and watched. It seemed so natural, like they, the four mechlings had done this every stellar-cycle. Bluestreak showed his friends the ursanokor Smokecreen had gifted him and Smokescreen flipped the scarf Bluestreak had made for him over his shoulder and struck a pose. They were happy and that observation had Prowl frozen in place. Each of them, his creations, their friends, all four of them glowed with happiness as they chatted together and Prowl could only stare in wonder.

“Prowl,” Jazz called his designation and Prowl broke free from his processor. His benefactor gestured to the empty space on the couch he was sitting on and held out a mug and pitch black energon.

“Thank you,” Prowl said. He sat. There were added pillow in this corner of the love seat. Jazz or his procreators had prepared a seat for him. It was not surprising, precisely but it was touching all the same. “I do not remember ever seeing them so happy.”

“It was the same for the Twins, ya know,” Jazz told him. “They came outta their shells, they bloomed after they settled in, once they knew in their sparks they weren’t just safe but free.”

“I am sorry,” Prowl said. “I have never asked...”

“Some other time,” Jazz replied with a wave of his servo. “Thanks to Master Yoketron, we got passed it. Y’re gonna get there too.”

“Thank you for all of your support,” Prowl said. He did not mean for it to happen but years pooled in his optics. “You have done so much for us. More my creations, for me. I saw the news, the priest being taken away in stasis cuffs.”

“It ain’t much,” Jazz said, he reached and squeezed Prowl’s servo as he smiled. “It’s a start. Ya deserve justice. Lockdown’ll get his too.”

“Do not set yourself on fire for my sake, please,” Prowl said. “I cannot imagine Lockdown being so easily castigated.”

“Just leave Lockdown to me,” Jazz assured him. “He ‘n me go back, way back. I can handle’m.”

“Would speaking to your procreators dissuade you at all?” Prowl asked.

“Ya kiddin’?” Jazz chuckled. “They all want a piece. Vicious lot, them three.”

“Oh dear,” Prowl felt a sharp rise of alarm. Jazz smiled at Prowl’s stricken expression.

“We know how to take care o’ ourselves ‘n our own,” Jazz assured him. “Ain’t gonna rush in ‘n get scrapped.”

“He’ll right,” Sprocket declared, poking his helm in from the kitchen. “Sometimes ya gotta sit on a grudge for a bit before ya can strike. We’re patient, when we gotta be. Punch ‘n Rumbler are on their way home.”

“Did you have a maintenance request?” Prowl asked. “On the Feast-Cycle of all mega-cycles?”

“Just an errand,” Sprocket smiled. He and Jazz both radiated excited happiness as they awaited their kin to begin the celebration.

“Lemme make ya another cube o’ energon,” Jazz offered. 

You might have thought, looking from the outside in, that they were just a normal, happy family. Prowl might have been still on the wrong side of gaunt, he did not look like such a wraith at this point. In any case, an outsider might have blamed an illness. They would not have guessed that Prowl was destitute and they were together because their creations were friends. If he could call him, Jazz and Jazz’s procreators friends, Prowl could not be sure, except that he felt uncomfortable, like he was taking advantage. He was taking advantage, there was no question. The help had been freely offered but the fact remained he was giving nothing in return. They would not even allow him to help with the chores.

“Can ya come into the kitchen, Prowl?” Jazz called and Prowl actually felt relieved. Finally, he could make himself useful.

“How can I…” the glyphs trailed off as Prowl saw the newcomer who was shaking the snow from his helm. “Originator?”

“Bitlet,” Camshaft sighed with relief. He crossed the cozy room in a few steps and swept Prowl up in his arms. Prowl clung to his originator, optics wide with disbelief. Camshaft cupped Prowl’s face and looked at him. “Bitlet. You’re so thin.”

“How?” Prowl asked.

“Punch,” Camshaft explained. “After you told him who you were to me, he reached out through an old channel I had thought dusted. It took me a while to see it. Bitlet. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to save you.”

“You could not have been,” Prowl replied. “I do not understand. How did you manage to get past the planetary security grid. It was set to scan for your spark.”

“A great deal of Punch’s trickery,” Camshaft explained. He gestured to the stranger, a Praxian like them, who was hanging back by the door. All at once, Prowl recognized him, in a distant way, this was someone he had seen on the streets from time to time, or in energon cafes. “And more of Downshift’s work. He’s the one who left you gifts from me. Who checked up on you for me.”

“Thank you for assisting my originator,” Prowl said, tilting his doorwings to the older Praxian.

“He’s never stopped thinking of you and speaking of you,” Downshift declared. “I hope you know you’ve always had a proud originator.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said. 

“Downshift was a member of my unit in Spec Ops,” Camshaft explained. “After I assassinated Zeta, I tried to reach you but I was pursued and shot. Downshift saved my life, despite the bounty he could have cashed in.”

“Energon credits,” Downshift said, with a snort.

“We are conjunxed,” Camshaft explained. “I wished you could be there. I knew you could not be but I wished.”

“I was with you in your spark,” Prowl said, he leaned his crest against his originator’s. “I always have been.”

“Always,” Camshaft promised, holding him close another moment.

“Punch, Rumbler, Sprocket, Jazz, thank you for this,” Prowl said as they slowly separated. “I know it was not without incredible risk.”

“It was worth the risk,” Punch replied. “Go on, I think Blue ‘n Smokey’ll be excited to meet their Grandori.”

“It does not seem real,” Camshaft said, taking a slow intake. “I did not believe I would ever meet them.”

“You and Downshift had no creations?” Prowl asked.

“We were always moving,” Camshaft explained. “It was not the life for a bitlet. In any case, no mechling or femmeling could have replaced you.”

He would not have begrudged his originator from having a family with the conjunx he had chosen for himself. Prowl had thousands of questions, primarily how his originator had managed to stay a step ahead of the bounty hunters for so long. For now, Prowl could not put any of it into glyph and none of it was important. His originator was here, here right in front of him and Prowl was not at all sure how he managed not to crash but there was not even a flicker of his glitch. Maybe the rightness of it and the joy of it was enough, it did not matter. Prowl took his originator’s servo and led him into the living room. Smokescreen waved his doorwings and then froze. He turned sharply and stared.

“Bluestreak?” Prowl called his youngest creation’s designation and Bluestreak turned. Like Smokescreen he stared. “Smokescreen, Bitlets. This is your grandoriginator, my originator. Punch, Rumbler and Sprocket were friends of his. They helped him come home to us.”

“Grandori?” Bluestreak asked. “You gave me my red ursanokor… except Seekers ripped it up. But Smokescreen found me this one and it’s just the same!”

“I’m very glad he did,” Camshaft said. 

“You’re…” Smokescreen struggled with the revelation. Prowl knelt with him and embraced Smokescreen as his youngling crawled into his arms. “I thought you had to be. You left a present after my exams just that orn…”

“Downshift,” Camshaft said, patient and gentle, he did not try to approach Smokescreen. “Brought every gift from me to you but never lingered long. He told me when you scored your first goal playing meccasoccer and won your first game. He was going to bring your a plaque from me but... We didn’t know, Sweetspark, what was about to happen.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Smokescreen said. “I’m glad… Downshift… I saw you… you cheered really loud when I scored that goal.”

“I figured I needed to cheer for both of us,” Downshift replied. 

“Sit,” Punch ordered. “Everyone get settled. I didn’t dare tell ya, Prowl. In case I was wrong ‘n it wasn’t Cam at the end o’ the comm.”

“I understand,” Prowl replied. “I cannot believe a better Feast gift.”

“Gonna be impossible to top,” Jazz agreed. “But there’s more under the shrine. Sideswipe can dole out the chests. How ‘bout that energon, Prowl?”

“Please.”

#valveplug #maccadams #primus help the outcasts #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf punch #tf everyone #family reunion #anon-e-miss writes

[sacredsnape]

Heyyyyy love.

Can you write some smut like….. severus and her have quickie during the the family dinner where are both families (both have siblings and big family) It’s because their like adrenalin and drank some aphropdisiac potion before the dinner just for fun.

Thank you :D ❤️

this request is so <3

summary: you and snape decide to spice things up by drinking a potion before your big family dinner - a potion that makes the both of you needier than you ever imagined.

genre: smut

warnings: dom snape, sub reader, size kink, praise kink, light degradation, light choking, unprotected sex

link to masterlist

you and snape definitely didn't have a boring sex life; either you or him were always coming up with new ways to make things in the bedroom more interesting.

this particular evening, snape came to you holding two small glass bottles, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"i have a...suggestion," he slowly said as he placed the bottles down in front of you. the liquids inside were pink with dashes of dark red here and there.

"for what?" you asked him, putting on your silver earrings and necklace. you and him were going to a big dinner party, where both of your families would be, and you wanted to look as nice as possible.

snape cooked an eyebrow at you, smirking. "these potions right here, darling," he began to explain, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his warm fingers gracing your skin. "are aphrodisiac, a powerful potion that increases sexual desire."

you dropped the bracelet that you were just about to put on, slowly turning to face snape. "and you want us to take it before the dinner??" you incredulously asked him. "there is no way i'm sucking you off under the table, severus."

snape chuckled darkly and said, "there will be no need for that. we will do everything in private."

you bit your lip, thinking; you had to admit, the thought of taking a potion that would increase ypur sexual desire did sound exciting.

"fine," you agreed, putting on the rest of your jewelry. you grabbed one of the bottles and twisted the sphere shaped top off, raising it to your lips.

snape mimicked your actions, smiling at you. "the effects will kick in after twenty minutes, " he warned you. "we'll need to hurry up and eat our food."

you nodded , taking a long drink from the bottle. snape did the same, finishing it in one go while you struggled with the strongly contrasting flavors of spicy and sour.

"ready, my love?" snape asked you after you two finished taking the potions. you smirked and grabbed his hand.

"ready as ever," you said.

---

you and snape practically swallowed your food whole at the dinner, your eyes darting over to the clock every now and then. thankfully, no one else at the table noticed your tense behavior besides snape.

"three more minutes," snape whispered to you, stroking your inner thigh with his thumb. "you should pretend to be going to the bathroom, but in reality you'll be heading to the guest bedroom. i'll join you in three minutes, okay?"

you nodded, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. your hands were shaking with excitement as pushed open the door to the guest bedroom, beginning to hurriedly undress yourself.

you had barely been starting to work on taking your bra off when a sudden warmth spread throughout your entire body. you moaned, feeling a pool of wetness gathering at your core.

without a second thought, you laid back on the bed, reaching over for your wand to close and lock the door. you had just flicked your wand towards it when snape walked in, shutting and locking it for you.

there was a ravenous look in his eyes, and he tore off his clothing as he prowled over to you like a predator hunting its prey.

"you don't know how badly i want to fuck you," snape breathed, throwing his cloak across the room. he removed the rest of his clothing with ease, kneeling on the bed snd pulling you towards him by your hips.

"i think i do know," you whimpered, staring at his blatantly obvious erection. snape followed your gaze and smirked, leaning down to pull you in for a hungry kiss.

snape felt feral, diving his tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours. he drew the sweetest sounds from you, one of his large hands grabbing ahold of your bra and giving it a rough pull.

a loud ripping sound echoed through the room and you looked down in shock to see that snape had completely torn your bra into two.

"merlin," you laughed, watching as snape haphazardly threw your torn bra to the side. "that was my favorite bra, sev."

snape nudged your cheek with his nose, deliciously running his tongue across it. you moaned and squirmed underneath him, fisting his hair.

"i'll buy you a new one," he groaned, reaching a hand down to gather your wetness on his fingers.

"fuck, baby. you're absolutely soaked," he admired as he sat up to marvel at how wet you made his fingers. "you're that desperate for my cock, hm? so pathetic and needy that you became this wet over just thinking about me."

you shamelessly nodded, trying to pull snape closer to you. "need you inside of me, sev," you begged him. "please fill me up, please-"

snape's demeanor completely changed, sweetly kissing your forehead as he mumbled, "of course, anything for my precious angel."

snape spread your legs open as much as he could before he slipped inside of you, quickly bottoming out with a whimper.

"never gonna get over how good your pretty little cunt feels," he whined, not waiting to thrust into you. "fuck, princess. you're so cute."

you sunk your nails into his shoulders, feeling yourself only growing wetter by the minute. the effects of the potion were only spurring the two of you on, causing snape to roughly buck his hips against yours.

"i knew you could take me like this," snape huffed, rubbing frantic circles into your clit. "you love taking big cocks, don't you? especially mine, baby. fuck, you'd better only be taking mine."

"i only take yours," you admitted in a breathless moan. "i love it when you stretch me out like this."

"yeah?" snape husked, trying to thrust harder without breaking the headboard, which was already banging violently against the wall. "of course you do, you naughty girl. you can't ever get enough of me."

you moaned deliriously at his words, positive that everyone in the dining room could hear what was happening at that moment.

"please- fuck. ah!" you cried, wrapping your limbs around snape and holding onto him like you were afraid to slip out of his grasp.

"good girl," snape said in almost a growl. "so f-fucking good." he stuttered out the last bit, whining your name as he felt his orgasm approaching.

"cum inside of me," you groaned into snape's ear, gasping when you felt his hand wrap around your throat. although he was becoming lost in his lust, snape didn't want to hurt you, so he applied a light pressure to your throat, keeping his thumb over your pulse point.

"how badly do you want it?" snape gruffly asked you, his hot breath tickling your cheek as he spoke. "use that pretty little mouth of yours and tell me how badly you want it."

"so badly, please!" you said, your clit beginning to spasm slightly from all of the overstimulation.

snape had a crazed look in his eyes, like all he wanted to do was fuck you for the rest of his life, which you certainly wouldn't mind.

"cum for me," he pleaded you, his voice coming out higher than he had expected. "i need to feel you."

you rocked your hips in time with his, your legs shaking around his waist as you finally reached the incredible crest of your orgasm.

"sev i-, oh my god, FUCK!" you practically sobbed, squeezing around his cock so tightly that snape gasped, unable to keep thrusting as you gripped him.

he came just a few moments later, filling you up just like you had asked him to. he was whimpering beautifully, gazing down at you as the lust faded from his eyes and was replaced with joy and adoration.

"that potion...is something else," he laughed, pressing a firm kiss to your cheek, his chest quickly rising and falling. "fucking hell, y/n."

you nodded in agreement, biting your lip when snape pulled out. he groaned at the sight, just now seeing how much you and him had came.

"we should use it more often," you slyly said, running a hand up and down one of his arms. "i've never came so hard before."

snape wiped his sweaty brow, panting before he cheekily replied, "fine, but only because you deserve that amount of pleasure more often."

you smiled gleefully to yourself and rolled over onto your side, trying to catch your breath.

"i wonder how much they heard," you said, referring to everyone in the dining room.

"they probably heard everything," snape smirked, brushing your hair out of your face. "we probably missed dessert, but that's fine with me. i already got my dessert from you, baby."

#severus snape #snape content #snape love #snape imagines #snape one shot #professor snape #snape fanart #snape fanfiction #snape fic #hogwarts #snape smut #snape angst #snape fluff #pro severus snape #pro snape #anti snaters #snape x reader #snape x you #snape x y/n

[milarqui]

Scarlet Lady: Syren

Directory | Captain Hardrock

“Nadja Chamack here, flying above Paris. Animals have escaped the zoo and are flooding the streets!” the reporter said, while two large gorillas jumped between roofs behind her, before the camera turned to two people dressed in outfits that hid their identity. “But Chat Noir and the new hero, Marigold, are already on the scene! Scarlet Lady is noticeably absent.”

As the camera kept filming, the two gorillas were led into a trap and fell into a jail.

“They're doing what they can to round the animals up!” Nadja continued.

They just escaped? the three swimmers watching the news from the side of the pool, wondering how that could have happened.

One of them turned to the girl next to him.

“Hey, you think super heroes come from a mega secret training center?!” the boy asked, eager.

The girl smiled and took off her bracelet.

“Dunno. Wanna know my secret?” she said, putting a piece of paper she had already written into the bracelet's capsule.

“Yeah! I love this game!” he replied, and she threw the bracelet into the pool.

The boy dived behind it and quickly grabbed the bracelet before going back and breaking out of the surface. Opening the capsule, he read the note.

“'I'm super in love with a boy who doesn't suspect anything',” he read out loud, while the girl blushed, smiling and hoping he would get it. “Haha! That guy sounds like an idiot!”

He hadn't.

You're not wrong, Ondine thought, wishing she knew what would get through Kim's skull to get it.

Perhaps...

“I'll be more direct,” she muttered, writing down something that even Kim would get –

“AH! Oh no, the movies!”

Shocked, Ondine turned around and saw Kim was already putting on his clothes over his swimming gear.

“I gotta go!” he exclaimed.

“But–! We didn't finish!” Ondine cried out, seeing her chance of finally confessing slipping through her fingers.

“Sorry, the whole class is going and Max bought my ticket!” Kim said as he put on his shirt. “Everyone's going, even Chloé, so I can't make them wait!”

“Kim...” she said. She wanted to say I love you! at the top of her lungs. But the words... they were stuck in her throat. Not just because of how she felt unable to confess.

But also because of who he had mentioned.

Kim turned around and began to run. She had one chance to say it.

“At least take off the swim cap!”

“AH!”

And she blew it.

She watched Kim leave the pool, and she turned back to the note she had wanted to use to confess. A heart, with her prince's name inside, and an 'I love you' underneath.

“I don't understand... she's so mean! But maybe she likes her assertiveness...” she said, trying to understand how Kim could like that girl. “She's vain. Or maybe just girly. And she's arrogant! But I guess that means she's confident.”

She couldn't hold them anymore. She hugged the note, as her tears began to fall off her eyes, unbidden.

“Either way, she's the opposite of me!” she sobbed, as she felt the crushing pain of rejection. Kim may not have actually said he didn't like her... but it was as if he had. “Do you really like that type of girl?!”

----

“I hope Chloé doesn't come, though, she's such a pain,” Kim muttered as he ran for the cinema.

He felt like he had forgot to do something, but he shook his head. Movies awaited!

----

“Oooo, I sense someone having a bad day,” Hawkmoth crowed, delighting in yet again taking advantage of someone's pain. “Sure would be a shame if someone made it 10 times worse.”

Conscience? What was that?

----

The two panthers were prowling the blacktop, looking left and right for possible prey, when the prey landed in front of them. The panthers looked curiously at the almost mouse-like prey, black with yellow stripes, as it crawled away from them, clearly having realized it was in the presence of predators.

The large felines prowled, ready to pounce on the skittering prey. It may be small prey, but it was still prey, and they were feeling quite peckish.

So concentrated they were on the prey, that they didn't notice that it was leading them somewhere like the jail they had escaped earlier that day.

It wasn't until the prey suddenly jumped up, far faster than they could react, that they realized it was not prey, but bait.

And then the doors closed behind them.

----

“They've done it! All the animals are safely captured!”

“Shouldn't you have helped them?”

She was going through the motions now.

“That's grunt work. Not glamerous at all.”

Not like pushing her to act would work at all.

The camera then approached the heroes, who were talking with each other.

“Chat Noir! Do you have a moment?” the reporter asked, and Chat Noir turned around, smiling.

“Uh, sure!”

“Paris has noticed that you seem much more upbeat and approachable! What do you attribute to this change?”

“Oh, that's easy!” And then he pulled a blushing Marigold closer to him. “I have an amazing partner I can rely on!”

“How dare he do an interview without me?! Spots On!”

Yeah, because that is what's important, Tikki sarcastically thought before she became absorbed into the earrings.

----

“Bien Joué!” they said, celebrating their success.

“HEY!”

They looked to the side, where Scar stood, clearly angry. Not that it wasn't uncommon.

“How could you?! Going on TV without me?! You didn't even call! How could you keep this from me?!”

Both heroes sighed.

“Didn't you just say you saw us on TV?” Chat Noir pointed out.

“How many other secrets are you keeping from me?!” Scar shouted, ignoring the question. “I bet you know where the new-bee got her Miraculous!”

“I do, actually.”

Marigold and Scar turned to him.

“WHAT?!”

“Really?” Marigold asked.

“But I'll never tell you, Scar!” Chat Noir replied, sticking his tongue at Scar.

“You mangy cat!” Scar shouted, throwing a temper tantrum, while he and Marigold spoke.

“Hey, was that true?” Marigold asked.

“Honestly, I only know, like, one thing that she doesn't.”

Then Chat Noir's smile turned more predatory.

“But she doesn't know that.”

Marigold felt her respect for him lower just a bit.

“You can be pretty childish when you want to,” she noted.

“S'what happens when you deal with a child.”

----

The silence of the pool was only broken by the sound of his mop as it slid over the tiles. Everyone was gone for the day, and all it rested was to make sure everything was in place for the next day.

Then he looked around, and realized that not everyone was gone. There, at the other side of the pool, was sitting a young girl, still wearing her swimsuit and cap. And, from what he could see... the poor girl was crying.

He swore he could even see the tears dropping down her chin.

He wished he could do something to console the child, but he didn't know her, and he wasn't certain if his intervention would be welcome. He made a note to ask someone at the office to either keep an eye on her or call someone for a relative.

But then he saw something else.

A black butterfly.

In the past months, every Parisian had learned to keep an eye on them. Thanks to Paris' heroes, it was known that they were the means Hawkmoth used to transform people into Akumas – and they always came for people that were sad, or angry, or disturbed enough to attract the villain's attention.

And the butterfly was flying to the young girl.

In the silence that had suddenly fallen in the pool, he began to run. He would be too late to shake the girl off. Given the location, he knew the most likely thing to happen was that this Akuma was going to be water-themed.

He had to run away. Warn someone. Do something.

Even as he made his way to the gates, he kept yelling out about the Akuma.

Even as he ran through the last corridor, he heard the rush of water coming for him. For everyone.

He didn't reach the door in time.

----

Max observed as Kim ran up to him and Alya. He noticed that he still had some gear for swimming, so he could surmise that he hadn't realized the time while he was in the pool. Checking his watch, he looked up to his friend.

“You're 3 minutes and 37 seconds late. But so are Adrien and Marinette.”

“Adrien I get, but Marinette?” Kim asked. Max also could tell that Marinette being late was a bit of an anomaly – save for first hour at collège, she was usually on time everywhere. However, he believed she might have simply lost track of time with one of her projects.

“She probably got caught up in the zoo outbreak,” Alya said, and he admitted that it was a likelier assumption. “Dad was freaking out.”

“I'M HERE!” Marinette shouted, stopping right next to Kim, and panting from exertion. “A-Am I last?”

“Besides Adrien,” Alya replied. “You know what that means.”

The four of them threw their hands into the air and cheered.

“CHLOÉ DIDN'T COME!”

----

Chloé, as was usual of her, was now throwing a tantrum over some little thing or another – which she had had coming, even if she would never be willing to admit it.

“Can you believe those stupid jerks, keeping secrets from their glorious leader, who do that dumb Fools-gold and Alley Cat think they are!?” she complained.

Tikki would have pointed out that she hadn't earned the right to knowing, given how she'd only really help once in a blue moon, but as she knew Chloé wouldn't listen to anything that contradicted her world view, she didn't bother.

Then she took a glance at the clock, and realized the time.

I could remind her she's going to miss the movie, buuuuut...

Yeah, better keep her away from the others. That way only laid madness and potential akumas.

----

The people in front of the Pontoise Swimming Pool were suddenly shocked when water began to filter through the cracks around its gates, flooding the pavement.

That became academic when the doors opened, and a torrent of water began to cover the entire street.

----

Adrien opened the door, entering into Fu's masseuse shop.

“You called me, Master Fu? I can't stay for long,” he said: he was going to be a bit late for the movies, but if this was done soon, he'd be able to catch up with the others.

“Ah, yes, Adrien. I need your assistance,” Fu replied, waving him to the backroom, but he put a hand up when Wayzz and Plagg made to follow. “Kwamis can't know the power of recipes. What if you were captured like Nooroo?”

Wayzz could understand the point, so he didn't complain when Fu closed the door behind him.

Plagg... he was less understanding.

“I'm gonna break his pots,” he announced. Wayzz was quite alarmed about that.

Meanwhile, in the back, Fu was preparing two cauldrons as he spoke with Adrien.

“So, Adrien, are you getting along with Marigold?”

“Yeah, she's great!” he admitted. He wished he could have had her as a partner from the beginning. “Of course, her arrival is making Scar ask a lot of questions. She really hates being out of the loop.”

The two of them looked at each other... and Fu shrugged.

“Well, sucks for her.”

Adrien laughed.

“Right?”

----

Unfortunately, the first test of the power-up potions he had found in the Grimoire was a bust.

And a burp.

“I think it needs more salt,” Wayzz complained after letting out some extra air.

“Aw, too bad,” Adrien admitted, before giving one last look to his watch. “Gotta go!”

“Bye,” Fu replied, just as devastated as Wayzz was.

Fortunately, the cinema they were going to was close, so Adrien didn't have to run much to meet them at the gates.

“I'm coming!” he shouted, and Alya and Marinette – the others had to be inside the cinema – waved at him.

“Hurry!”

As he finally reached them, he panted in exhaustion.

“Sorry, I was–”

“You can explain yourself later!” Alya interrupted, handing him a ticket, but then Marinette saw something.

“AH! We should keep running!” she said, pointing at the water that was quickly covering the street.

“AH!”

----

“Whoa, would you look at that?” Tikki said, pointing at the growing water level, as it filled Paris' streets.

“Gross,” Chloé said.

“It's definitely an Akuma! Let's go, Chloé!”

“Nah, the extras can get their hair wet, not me.”

Tikki rolled her eyes, but then a certain sight at the other side of the room told her this was not going to go Chloé's way.

“Looks like your hair's getting wet either way,” she said, pointing at the seeping water coming from under the door.

“NOOOOO! NOT SEINE WATER! FISH PEE THERE!”

Tikki looked at her with pity. That she would concentrate on that...

----

“WOHOO!”

“KIM!”

Alya wondered what was going through her classmate's mind when he jumped into the water, clothes on, without a care for the temperature. After swimming around for a while, he

“Isn't this great, guys?! C'mon in!” he shouted.

“Kim, no. It's February,” Max, ever the voice of logic, pointed out.

Kim just stuck his tongue at him.

“Bleh, you're no fun.”

Alya would have made a sarcastic comment, but when she saw the fin approaching Kim from behind, it flew out of her mind.

“KIM!”

“KIM, BEHIND YOU!”

Before Kim could react, something grabbed him and pulled him under the water.

“Hup–!” he said in shock before his head was submerged.

For Alya and her classmates, the shock was no lesser: after all, their small class outing had suddenly turned into a 1970s blockbuster, and they didn't even have a boat!

“What grabbed him, did anyone see?!” Alya asked in panic, before she turned to Adrien...

… who wasn't there.

“Ah! Adrien's gone! Marinette, do you know–” Alya said, turning to her best friend...

… who wasn't there. Either.

“Marinette! Everyone's disappearing! What is happening?!”

----

This one's going to be hard to explain... they both thought as they faintly heard Alya's scream.

----

Kim was very thankful for his lung capacity. He was certain that he would have drowned without that.

Fortunately, the cute siren that had pulled him underwater realized that he was running out, and somehow blew a bubble that was larger than his head.

“I found you, Kim! Oh, here, this'll help you breathe!” she said (he didn't pay much attention to the fact that he could somehow understand her even though they were both underwater) and she put the bubble around his head.

----

“Hey there, landlubbers!”

The teens turned in the direction of the voice, and saw Juleka's mother right next to their improvised platform, standing on a very familiar boat.

“The Liberty is here to the rescue!”

“YAAAAAAY!” they all shouted, and quickly they jumped from the top of the cinema to the large boat.

“Luka, you came!” Juleka said, going after her brother.

“Of course! We headed over as soon as the Seine started overflowing,” he replied, before he began to look around. “So, uh... where's Marinette?”

“She went off on her own to get help.”

“Oh.” He sighed, disappointed.

Juleka gave Luka a half-serious glare.

“Gee, thanks for your concern.”

----

Having managed to find a place where she could transform, Marigold began to swim in the direction where Kim had been taken, and saw him in the company of what had to be the Akuma – and she knew this one.

“Wow! I can breathe underwater!” Kim said, from beneath a 'helmet' that was pretty much a large bubble around his head.

“I knew you'd like it!” the akumatized Ondine replied. “And I have even more surprises!”

She had heard enough (and chose not to ponder on how that was possible at all), so she threw her spinning top and hooked the string around Kim's ankle.

And then she pulled him up with her.

“Whoa!”

“Kim!” the Akuma said, before turning her glare to Marigold. “GIVE ME BACK MY PRINCE!”

Marigold felt a shudder.

Please use any other nickname! she mentally begged. She had better things to do than to deal with another Scarlet!

----

“AAAHHH!”

“Marigold!” Chat Noir exclaimed, quickly jumping between the few buildings that had yet to sink, and catching his partner mid-air.

As she coughed out some water, he smiled down at her.

“Bold strategy, but you know bees can't swim!”

“Ha, ha,” she weakly laughed, which he counted as a success.

“HELLOOOO!” It was the usual suspect, and he turned to her, waiting to see what excuse she would make now. “My room is covered in fish water because you're too slow! Would you deal with this already?!”

Chat Noir just looked at Scar for a few seconds, before turning away.

“C'mon, Goldie, I know where to get help.”

“HEY! Don't ignore me!” Scar yelled.

They ignored her.

----

Fu felt lucky that his shop was far enough from the Seine that it wasn't suffering from the sudden flooding, but he knew that could change at any point. Nonetheless, he remained in place: in the current circumstances, the secrets he had divined from the Grimoire would be the only way for the heroes to succeed.

“Master Fu?” Right on cue, Adrien entered the room. “We have a problem.”

“I know. You three can't fight under–”

And when he turned around he saw that not only was Adrien present as Chat Noir... but he had also brought company.

“Ad–! Chat Noir! Why did you bring Marigold?! My identity and location are of the upmost secrecy!” he berated the young man, who looked sheepish.

“Um, well...”

“WHAT?!” Marigold shouted, turning to her partner. “Chat, that's bad! You can't share other people's secrets! What were you thinking?!”

“Yeah, but...” Chat Noir grabbed one of her hands. “You're my friend.”

Marigold lost her worried expression while blushing.

“Awww!”

“Good lord.” Fu palmed his face. In this kind of situation, he slightly regretted having given the Bee to Marinette: clearly, her love for Chat Noir was dulling her wit. He grabbed his tablet and checked the page for the potion that would most help them today. “We'll discuss this later, but for now, unless we can decipher what a 'tear of joy' is, I can't help you fight underwater.”

“But that's easy!” Marigold exclaimed, and he looked at her.

“Easy?!”

“Here: why do you go to bed at night? Because the bed won't come to you!”

It shouldn't have worked. It was a bad joke. But, somehow, that made it hilarious.

“AHAHAHA!” Fu laughed.

“Oh, I get it!” Chat Noir joined in. “Why did the gym close down? It just didn't work out!”

“HAHAHA!” he kept laughing.

“What did the snail yell on the back of a turtle? Woohoo!”

“Stahp!” he begged – and he felt something running down his cheek.

“One 'tear of joy'!” Chat Noir triumphantly exclaimed.

----

The two sidekicks weren't there. There was nothing she could do. And her home was still underwater.

“This is stupid, I wanna go home,” she complained.

“Not yet, Scar!”

She turned to look at the sidekicks – who were suddenly wearing something that looked like one of those fancy diving suits she had seen in movies.

“Ah–! What's with the look?!” she said, seething, before looking away and crossing her arms. “That's it! You backstabbers and your secrets can deal with the Akuma without me!”

A few seconds of silence passed, and suddenly the mangy cat grabbed her under her arms while the new-bee forced her mouth open and pushed the tip of a bottle in.

“We would if we could, now drink the Aqua Potion!” both of them yelled as she (unwillingly) drank the bottle's contents.

“Don't worry about the weird taste, it's probably nothing,” Marigold added with a smirk.

----

The siren brought him to the swimming pool where he and Ondine worked out, and somehow, she had assembled the chair and the noodles so they would look like some kind of throne.

“Wow, the pool looks awesome!” he told the siren, who happily swan around him.

“I knew you'd like it! That's why I tried to confess here!” she replied, showing a bracelet on her left arm. “But you didn't really get it.”

A bracelet – he knew that bracelet! He had hunted it down enough times in this very same pool!

“Wait... Ondine?!”

“Heehee,” she giggled. “Yep!”

And then he made the connection. Max always said he was kinda slow... and he had to admit his friend was right.

“But that means I'm that idiot!” he shouted, realizing belatedly that he had insulted himself earlier.

“Sure are!” Ondine said, lovingly, before she swa, to him and put her hands behind his head. “With a kiss from me, we'll be the same! You'll swim just as fast...”

“Sweet!” he said, closing his eyes as he prepared to get his first kiss –

“Not sweet, Kim!”

“Huh?!” Ondine shouted, turning to see Paris' heroes swimming in the water – and all of them sporting new looks.

“Whoa, you look like fish!” Kim exclaimed. “How'd you do that?!”

----

Elsewhere in Paris, a certain villain looked at the new scene with a glare.

“Not fair,” he complained. No, he was not jealous of how amazing those suits looked. That was slander, and he would sue anyone who claimed so.

----

Scarlet Lady summoned Lucky Charm while Chat Noir kept the Akuma distracted.

“Car keys? Such a cheap model.”

Marigold paid her no mind, going instead for Kim.

“Hey, what set your friend off?” she asked.

“I accidentally blew off her love confession when we were playing Bracelet Secrets,” he said, worried.

“'Bracelet Secrets'?”

“It's a game Ondine invented!”

Marigold looked at the girl, and saw a bracelet on her wrist.

“That must be where the Akuma is!”

“Hey, wanna hear my secret?” Kim said, and Marigold smiled at him.

“You wanna help some superheroes?”

Kim gasped.

“How'd you know?!”

----

Syren looked around. Those blasted heroes had taken her Kim from his throne, before she could make him like her!

“Damn you! How dare you take my Prince!” she shouted in anger.

“Hey! Little mermaid!” one of the heroes shouted back, and when she looked in that direction she saw her Kim without a bubble and shaking his arms. “Your Prince is in trouble!”

“KIM!” Syren screamed, swimming towards him as fast as she could, furious with the 'heroes' for not giving him the air he needed. “How heartless! I'll save you, my Prince!”

As she swan through a car whose doors were open, she realized too late that Chat Noir was approaching.

“AN OPENING!” he said, slamming the car with his baton.

Suddenly, the car's airbag blew, so fast that it hit her in the face and pinned her against the car seat.

“HRGH!” she let out, before losing consciousness.

----

The yo-yo and the baton were ready to pull out the car where the Akuma had been trapped, and now Chat Noir and Scarlet Lady were doing their best to do it.

“Alright, reel her in,” Chat Noir told Scarlet Lady.

“The Cure better dry off my hair,” she complained as she pulled from her yo-yo.

Nearby, Marigold was trying to shake off the water out of her drenched hair, after helping Kim out of the water.

“How you holding up?” she asked.

“Ha!” he laughed. “Max says I'm too dense to let the cold bother me!”

Marigold laughed. It was typical Kim, and kinda adorable as well.

“Actually, I was referring to the fact your friend confessed to you.”

Suddenly, Kim began to blush and covered his mouth.

“Righ. Ondine is in love with me. Wow.”

“Did it just hit you?” she teased, but she couldn't blame him much: all the sequence of events in a rapid succession had probably kept him from reacting to it until he had the time to actually think about it.

The moment Ondine was out of the water, Scarlet Lady cast the Miraculous Cure, which, much to her joy, did dry out her hair – along with the rest of Paris, where the Seine was restored to its normal water level, and those who had been in peril of drowning (or actually had) were returned to their places, in perfect health. Many thanks were given to the heroes for stopping the most dangerous Akuma to appear, so far.

And Ondine... well, it was February, she was in the open, and she was only wearing a swimsuit. Naturally, the poor girl began to shake from the freezing weather.

“Brr! Wha–!” She looked around. The last thing she remembered, she was at the pool, heartbroken over Kim, and now she was atop a building, somewhere close to the river.

“Here, Ondine,” Kim – Kim! - said, taking off his sweatshirt and putting it around her shoulders. “I'll take you back to the pool!”

“Kim?”

What had just happened to her?

And the heroes were here, too!

“You know, me and Marigold can get you there faster,” Chat Noir said – impishly, she thought – while Marigold gave them a knowing smirk.

Kim proceeded to grab her in a bridal carry, and glared at the heroes.

“I said I'm taking her! I'm not sharing!” he yelled.

She blushed. She wasn't sure what was going on.

But she was in Kim's arms. She could handle not knowing... particularly if she could milk it for a little more.

----

With Kim and Ondine returning to the pool – so the girl could warm up in the heated water and retrieve her belongings – Scar turned to face them.

“Okay, sidekicks, fess up already!”

“Whaddya mean?” Chat Noir replied, him and Marigold the perfect picture of innocence, as Scar's earrings began to beep.

“First Bumbling Bee shows up, then you keep having secret meetings, and now the mermaid drink?! Answers! NOW!”

“The answer is it's none of your business!” Chat Noir happily fired back. “And you might want to leave before you lose the only secret you have.”

Scar's fuming face was amazing.

----

Back at Fu's place, the Guardian looked to be quite cross with them both, particularly the Black Cat Hero.

“That was very foolish, Chat Noir.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I should hope you show more respect for other people's trust in the future,” he warned him.

“Yessir.”

Fu sighed.

“But what's done is done. I'll begin training both of you, so long as you don't come at the same time.”

Chat Noir and Marigold happily looked at each other. They would be able to learn more to help stop Hawkmoth!

“On to good news,” Fu continued, showing several pipettes, each full of a liquid of different colors. “I've unlocked even more recipes and powers. You can change the container to suit your Kwami so long as the potion is present.”

As she looked at the potions, Marigold had a horrifying feeling.

But that means I'll be eating chili peppers!

----

“The dried centipedes go on the top shelf, Adrien,” Fu stated, drinking his tea.

“Yessir,” Adrien wearily replied. Reorganizing the entire pantry was a lot more tiring than he had envisoned it to be.

----

Marinette watched the pink chili pepper with apprehension. She really, really, didn't want to do it. But she had to – she had to train for when it was needed!

She began to put it in her mouth –

“You don't have to eat those for me, My Queen,” Pollen gently explained.

“Ah. Oh.”

THANK GOODNESS!

----

In the depths of his secret lair, he had one question to make.

“Nooroo, how can I obtain more powers?”

“What do you mean, Master?” the Kwami of Transmission asked, unsure of what Gabriel meant.

“Don't take me for an idiot! The heroes had new powers, how did they do it?!”

“K-Kwamis don't know the recipes! And only Guardians can read the Grimoire,” Nooroo replied.

“I must find this guardian at all costs,” he declared. No, he wasn't imagining himself wearing a finned version of his Hawkmoth costume, that was slander.

----

Dark Cupid

@zoe-oneesama Gabriel's alternate costume should be green.

@msweebyness What's your opinion? You were really looking forward to this.

Alright, that's Ondine's Akumatization out of the way. Soon, it'll be Kim's turn. Don't forget that Chloé's stellar reception of what she sowed!

#scarlet lady the novel #milarqui #fanfiction #scarlet lady #scarlet lady is better than canon #marinette dupain cheng #marigold #adrien agreste #chat noir #ondine #syren #le chien kim

[gendrie]

what are ur favourite arya quotes? aside from like the obvious ones (needle was…, she who had been etc) deepcut ones

its never easy for me to choose favorites where arya is concerned because i like it all!!! but these are some (mostly) underrated ones that came to mind:

AGOT:

"Just so, that is the grip. You are not holding a battle-axe, you are holding a—" "—needle," Arya finished for him, fiercely.

"I'm not a boy," she spat at them. "I'm Arya Stark of Winterfell, and if you lay a hand on me my lord father will have both your heads on spikes. If you don't believe me, fetch Jory Cassel or Vayon Poole from the Tower of the Hand." She put her hands on her hips. "Now are you going to open the gate, or do you need a clout on the ear to help your hearing?"

"Put down the stick, girl," Ser Meryn told her. "I am a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard, the White Swords." "So was the Kingslayer when he killed the old king," Arya said. "I don't have to go with you if I don't want."

ACOK:

The green water was warm as tears, but there was no salt in it. It tasted of summer and mud and growing things.

And as lords and ladies never notice the little grey mice under their feet, Arya heard all sorts of secrets just by keeping her ears open as she went about her duties.

She carried neither candle nor taper. Syrio had told her once that darkness could be her friend, and he was right. If she had the moon and the stars to see by, that was enough.

She filched one anyway, and ate it on her way out. It was stuffed with chopped nuts and fruit and cheese, the crust flaky and still warm from the oven. Eating Ser Amory's tart made Arya feel daring. Barefoot surefoot lightfoot, she sang under her breath. I am the ghost in Harrenhal.

Was that enough? Maybe she should pray aloud if she wanted the old gods to hear. Maybe she should pray longer. Sometimes her father had prayed a long time, she remembered. But the old gods had never helped him. Remembering that made her angry. "You should have saved him," she scolded the tree. "He prayed to you all the time. I don't care if you help me or not. I don't think you could even if you wanted to."

"I forgot, you're too skinny to push such a heavy barrel." "I forgot, you're stupid."

That night she lay in her narrow bed upon the scratchy straw, listening to the voices of the living and the dead whisper and argue as she waited for the moon to rise. They were the only voices she trusted anymore. She could hear the sound of her own breath, and the wolves as well, a great pack of them now. They are closer than the one I heard in the godswood, she thought. They are calling to me.

ASOS:

She should be more frightened herself, she knew. She was only ten, a skinny girl on a stolen horse with a dark forest ahead of her and men behind who would gladly cut off her feet. Yet somehow she felt calmer than she ever had in Harrenhal. The rain had washed the guard's blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid.

That was the day without a dawn. Slowly the sky lightened around them, but they never saw the sun. Black turned to grey, and colors crept timidly back into the world. The soldier pines were dressed in somber greens, the broadleafs in russets and faded golds already beginning to brown.

She knew better than to try and argue. This was battle, and in battle you had to obey.

"She was the only one he loved."

"At least you look at my face. I'll give you that, you little she-wolf. How do you like it?" "I don't. It's all burned and ugly."

AFFC:

I am a wolf, and will not be afraid. She patted Needle's hilt for luck and plunged into the shadows, taking the steps two at a time so no one could ever say she'd been afraid.

"You'll be safe here," she told Needle. "No one will know where you are but me." She pushed the sword and sheath behind the step, then shoved the stone back into place, so it looked like all the other stones. As she climbed back to the temple, she counted steps, so she would know where to find the sword again. One day she might have need of it. "One day," she whispered to herself.

Cat had made friends along the wharves; porters and mummers, ropemakers and sailmenders, taverners, brewers and bakers and beggars and whores. They bought clams and cockles from her, told her true tales of Braavos and lies about their lives, and laughed at the way she talked when she tried to speak Braavosi. She never let that trouble her. Instead, she showed them all the fig, and told them they were camel cunts, which made them roar with laughter.

ADWD:

Her nights were lit by distant stars and the shimmer of moonlight on snow, but every dawn she woke to darkness.

"How long must I be blind?" she would ask. "Until darkness is as sweet to you as light," the waif would say, "or until you ask us for your eyes. Ask and you shall see." And then you will send me away. Better blind than that. They would not make her yield.

“You are Arya of House Stark, who bites her lip and cannot tell a lie."

"What man?" "No one that you know." "I don't know a lot of people."

"I obey. I can be humbler than anyone." That made him chuckle. "You will be the very goddess of humility, I am sure.”

#ask #the most random assortment of quotes lol #like i picked out of a hat #a lot of her funny moments here bc i feel like theyre slept on #but im forcing myself to hit post now so i cant add more #enough!!!!

[deadhumourist]

Under Marula Trees - Chapter 4

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long! Thank you to everyone who's been reblogging and commenting, I treasure all of that feedback because this is my baby. It's literally spurred me on to write more. Thank you to the LOVELY @just-here-for-the-moment for beta-ing (a few times) and allowing me to yell at her about shitty drafts..

There is a section in here about canned hunting - those not familiar with it, it's an unethical, awful practice. There's no detail in the story apart from mentioning the practice so I've marked it with an asterisk if you'd rather skip that paragraph.

Warnings: References to shooting and hunting (not detailed or explicit), alcohol, getting drunk, flirting, Whiskey on the prowl is its own warning.

Series Masterlist | Taglist sign-up

------

Breakfast was served near the pool in the large communal area, and it was bustling. On bright, sunny days like this it wasn’t unusual to find guests in the sparkling saltwater pool by 9am. Splashes and peals of laughter echoed across the large space and disappeared into the folds of the surrounding mountains.

The large tiled deck area was framed by teak pool loungers, filled out with luxurious sage-green pillows which were perfect for relaxing after a brisk dip in the sparkling pool. Large tan parasols were dotted among the chairs, offering a respite from the bright sunshine if you wanted to read a book or stretch out for a nap.

The lively space offered such a sharp contrast to the surrounding savanna, the expanse of burnt sienna and gold glinting as the sun climbed to its peak.

Peace like this was almost intoxicating and you didn't envy people returning to the humdrum of their daily life when their vacation was over. This kind of landscape settled into your bones and coaxed a wistful melancholy from you when you left. 

You clutched your bottle of water, the condensation running onto your hand in the heat.

Pretty soon, you would need to find your charges for the day. Even though it was only the second day, they had a packed schedule and for you, that meant a long day of babysitting. You were still feeling a bit grumpy but you had a good night’s sleep and normally busy days passed quickly.

As you walked across the large space, you clocked your group at a table in the corner. Champ spotted you first, waving you over. He reminded you of a kindly but eccentric uncle. One that had undoubtedly been a catch in his younger days. His easy manner and dry sense of humour drew you in quickly and you found yourself wondering whether he had been a serious, cut-throat agent in his youth. 

Now he had a cigar almost permanently perched between his lips, and by some miracle he managed to talk, laugh, and tell the most outrageous stories without this thing simply falling out. He was also sporting a bright, floral shirt that you could practically see from space. 

It hung apathetically from his shoulders, barely concealing a tuft of white chest hair that refused to play nice with physics. He was clearly very determined to be on vacation. Like wearing a beacon saying “Could I be more relaxed right now?”  It made him look a little self-conscious and you liked him even more for it. 

Some covert Googling revealed that he ran an impressive distillery back in the US, but today he was just Randy with the beach bum shirt next to the pool. 

You swerved between the tables and chairs with a practised ease that came with the territory. Narrowly missing a waiter carrying a giant pitcher of water, you closed in on them. They were sat at the furthest end of the area, far enough away from other holidaymakers to allow them some privacy.  

As you came closer, snippets of an animated debate floated up above the general din of the guests. You only managed to catch the tail end of it.  

“And I wouldn’t know, now would I?” Jack spat out, his tone suggesting that he was keen to move away from the topic of discussion.

He was in the pool, his arms folded and anchoring him to the edge. Dark hair slicked back, water droplets running down his neck as he spoke. For the first time he wasn’t wearing his whole cowboy get-up and your eyes were glued to his back muscles and strong arms. You were vaguely aware that you were staring but you had little hope of tearing your eyes away. 

Soft swells of saltwater sloshed against his back as he pushed away and dipped underwater again. Ginger rolled her eyes in exasperation, looking at Champ. 

“I don’t know what he’s so defensive about, he was quick in Singapore with the...y’know…” her sentence drifted off as she locked eyes with you.

The look went on just a second too long. 

Remembering what you were meant to be doing, you gently patted Champ’s shoulder. “Well, you all look good and rested, did you sleep well?”

Ginger had recovered her composure admirably but the screws were still turning in the back of your mind on how you could draw her out. You were dying to know what they were talking about. As she prattled on you only appeared to be listening, wondering if her poison was alcohol or something stronger. Or nothing? She looked like the type who would run her mouth on a sugar high if you pushed gently enough. 

Feeling your attention on her, she scrambled for a deflection. 

“This place is really beautiful, you must enjoy it here. Do you live nearby or at the resort?” 

“I’m based here, I have a little cottage just down the footpath from where the tented areas are. It’s small but private, but it’s really all I need. I’m comfortable.”

Ginger nodded and smiled at you. You felt like you were inadvertently squaring off, each side tipping their hat in mock deference. For the first time you felt like you had taken an inadvertent peek behind the curtain. What shocked you was that there was a curtain in the first place. They were on holiday. Taking a break. You must be mistaken. 

Jack, having dipped back in the water as soon as you arrived, seemed to be swimming lazy laps, earning a few admiring looks from people lounging nearby. He didn’t seem to be aware of it. It really was unfair that someone so obnoxious was so good-looking. How rude of the universe to do that, you thought. 

Your attention turned back to the group. 

"Alright, enjoy breakfast, I’ll see you this afternoon for your cub visit. Tomorrow night we have a special surprise for you, so you’ll have to rest up.".

“We’re gonna ride a lion?”

Champ looked at Tequila and deadpanned. “Son, you don’t ride predators. You ride giraffes, the view is better.” He shot you a naughty wink. 

You had to count to 10 to keep your laugh bottled but you were losing the battle. Champ had picked up on your acerbic answers to wildlife related questions and was now dishing it out himself, and you loved it.  

A smile bursting with the first tendrils of laughter graced your lips before you spun on your heels and walked away. You weren't laughing at them per se, but at the dynamic that leaned heavily towards a bickering family. Close, good-natured and all too familiar with each other. 

At the very back of your mind the niggling unease of the exchange at the pool shouted for attention, but you pushed it back down. They were clearly all relaxed and just unwinding, some conflict as people let go of worries and latent stress was probably expected. 

The rest of the morning was taken up by doing the rounds with housekeeping. At this level of VVIP hosts were required to personally oversee the comfort of their guests and your case was no different. 

After going through the rooms and the lunch menu, you spoke to Aaron about the following evening’s midnight excursion. “Please make sure there’s enough hot chocolate as well as fleece blankets, you know how cold it can get at the back of the Jeep.  

“You should just offer to keep them warm yourself. Especially the one making big cow eyes at you.” 

You laughed. “No one is making cow eyes at anyone. Least of all that one.” 

He shook his head and chuckled “Okay you realise you just outed yourself by knowing EXACTLY who I was talking about right? And he does. He moons over you like a big ol’ Jersey cow looking for skitches.” 

You fixed him with glare but struggled to suppress a smile. “He doesn’t. Let it go Aaron.”

Aaron gave you a side eye but kept silent. 

You playfully punched him in the shoulder and started out the door. 

“I’ll see you later, I need to go pick them up for the cub camp. My babies are getting so big!”

Jumping in the jeep, you made your way to the Statesman suites. Once outside, you climbed out and dusted off your jumpsuit. Although practical and dared you say it, kinda cute, driving in the outdoors with this thing on meant you got permanently dusty. Some days you felt more like Pigpen from Peanuts than a high-end hostess to the rich and famous. 

Champ opened on the second knock at his door with a. “Hey! Time already? Gimme a minute, I just need my shoes. Go on, get the others in the meantime, I’ll meet ya out there.” You knocked on the second door and almost simultaneously the other doors opened and the group drifted out and piled into the vehicle. 

As you took off on the dusty road which snaked onto a mountainside, you turned your head slightly so they could hear you over the noise of the engine. 

“We’re meeting up with Alexander Umbra, who runs our conservation programme. He’s been with the resort for little over two years, heading up various projects that keep the animals safe and cared for. Since he’s been here we’ve had a record number of rhino births!”

The group seemed to be listening and but not really reacting, save for a vague nod from Tequila. It was a short drive, as a conscious decision had been made to keep the babies closer to camp. As you pulled into the clearing, you continued. 

***

“What you’ll be seeing today is some of our rescue lion cubs. They were extracted from canned hunting farms, and if we hadn’t gotten to them, they would have been shot.” You knew they were safe here but recounting the fate they could have ended up with always made your stomach turn. It disgusted you and it made you grateful for people like Alex who put their heart and souls into fighting this practice. 

***

As you hopped off the Jeep, a tall, sandy-haired man made his way to you. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a short-sleeved button-down with the resort logo emblazoned on it. Trying to combat the heat, the first two buttons were undone and you couldn’t help but admire how damn good he made this dull, compulsory outfit look. 

The nature of his job meant he was almost always outside and had cultivated a sun-kissed tan which really emphasised the muscles he developed dealing with beasts that far outweighed him in strength. 

He greeted the group warmly and pressed a kiss to your cheek like an old friend. 

Turning to them, he started talking.

“Now, we’re about to go into the cub camp. I’ve no doubt you would have already been filled in on the details by my colleague here, so I’ll just go over some basic safety rules.

One. The cubs are cute, but they have fangs and serious claws. Please be careful around them. Two, if you have brought any snacks, please don’t feed it to them. We have some choice cuts of meat on the bone that we’ve brought along as treats. 

Three, and this really is the most important rule. They may be babies but they are still lions. Do not turn your back on them or let them round you, because they will pounce and attempt to take you down. This is playing but essential prep for hunting during adulthood. They are small but very strong and you are prey to them. Always ensure they’re in front of you. Got that?”

The group nodded. In what was becoming a habit over the last few days, your eyes strayed to Jack. You felt your stomach drop. 

He was staring at Alex like he was the last drink of water in the desert. His dark eyes roaming over the other man's form like a storm rolling in, brooding and intense.

You frowned and looked back at Alex, who seemed to be completely unaware of the other man’s attention. Tearing your eyes away at what seemed like a private moment for Jack, you reached back into the Jeep for the cooler with the meat. 

Lugging it down in front of the camp entrance, you turned to Alex, who was just completing the safety briefing. 

“Alright, let’s go. If you need anything, please speak up.”

He opened the gate and everyone filed into the camp. It was a large camp with rocks, a small natural pool and plenty of umbrella Acacia trees, which had horizontal branches perfect for climbing and playing.

The group approached the little cubs carefully, and split up as they wandered around. Jack had wandered right to the back of the camp, inspecting a little cub who was fast asleep and draped over a branch. 

You fought the urge to go talk to him, staying back and keeping an eye on Champ and Ginger instead. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Alex walk over to him, making conversation and chuckling.

Jack was so attentive to Alex that he hadn’t noticed a sneaky cub prowling behind him. The cat lowered his head and body in an instinctual hunting pose. 

Alex immediately saw his plan and leapt past Jack, catching the little guy before he could pounce. He was smaller than the rest and after getting a good grip on him and turning him around, Alex gently handed him to Jack to hold.

The other man curled his arm around the cub protectively and leaned in closer to Alex to ask him something. They were so close that it definitely bordered on ‘personal space invasion’ and you had to take measured breaths to keep your heart rate steady.

Alex was gorgeous. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t stolen a few looks anytime he was busy with the cubs. Anyone would. 

But it also meant that Aaron was completely wrong about Jack. You felt a little pang of disappointment that struck deep in your chest. You didn’t want to think about why it was there. Instead you took a final deep breath in through your nose, breathing out through your mouth, hoping to dispel the pain particles from your lungs out into the world. 

Your eyes fell on the two men again, just in time to see Jack rest his hand on Alex’s bicep in what looked to you like an intimate gesture.

You felt something snap. This was stupid. So fucking incredibly stupid of you. He was just a guest. 

You turned away, scoffing under your breath, and opened the cooler. The moment the scent of raw meat hit the air the cubs trotted to you excitedly, amber-gold eyes trained on the meat. The cub in Jack’s arms scrambled to get out of his hold, scratching him in the process. Alex reached over to inspect the cut. You wished it had cut a little deeper. Just to hurt a little. 

As the cubs feasted, the group eventually drifted back over to you. Jack crossed his arms, coming to stand next to you. 

A little bit of blood from the cut on his arm had dried, leaving a thin red line and an angry raised welt on his skin. 

Your eyes flicked down to it and you drily remarked to Jack “Pretty bad cut that cub gave you. Maybe you shouldn’t be so distracted around dangerous animals.” 

He looked at you for a long moment, his eyes inexplicably soft, but with a smirk resting on his full lips.

“The cub hasn’t cut deeper than your words have, Sugar.” 

"If you really caught the sharp edge of my tongue, you would be more significantly injured." you snarked.

"But it would hurt so good.” 

You stared ahead of you grumpily. He was really playing fast and loose here, flirting with you right after putting the moves on Alex. You bent down to scratch the scruff of the closest cub, fingers digging into its thick fur to drive the irritation away. Some animals were wilder than others, you mused. 

When you came back up, he continued. “He’s really passionate about endangered species.” He continued to look at Alex appreciatively. 

“Uhm…I guess. Apparently he was hired on the spot. James, our CEO, loved his idea of some of our rarer animals receiving tracking chips so we can always see where they are. There are other…measures…which have been taken to keep them safe.”

“What measures?”

“I can’t really talk about that. Any detail about the rhinos are off limits. Why do you ask?”

The question came out sharper than you intended, but this was sensitive territory and he had already ruffled your feathers today. 

He focused on the middle distance, narrowing his eyes.

“Just curious, is all.” 

You decided to leave it at that.

After the feed, the group clambered back into the vehicle. By that time the sun had started to drift down over the savanna. It looked like it was melting into a large watering hole just outside of the resort. 

You left your group at their doorstep, with the promise to pick them up for a late supper.

----

Walking into your house for the first time as dusk settled, you could feel the day wearing on you like a heavy blanket. You were desperate to just take a shower and get to bed but you still had the entire night on duty. It irritated you anew that you even had to be here instead of South America on your well-deserved holiday. 

You showered and freshened up, the cool water running down your back and breathing new life into you. Drying off and patting on some moisturiser, you felt ready to tackle the second part of your shift. Zipping up your dress and slipping on your ankle boots, you checked the time. You had to be out of here in 5 minutes. Taking one last look at your appearance, you dashed out the door. 

Entering the private dining room just off the main dining area, you found a few of the Statesman group already there, with Champ and Jack standing on the veranda seemingly deep in conversation.

You smiled broadly at Ginger, who you now knew went by Erin. Your curiosity was still piqued from that morning, and you were intent on finding out what they had been talking about that elicited such a reaction from Jack. You were struggling to piece together all the pieces. 

Part of you felt guilty. You were good-natured but you weren’t above some mischievous plotting. Besides, you reasoned, she was in a safe space and the worst that could happen was that she would let you in on a little gossip…maybe a little secret. Maybe that secret would even have something to do with Jack. 

Cradling her shoulder, you steered her to the bar. “You know, we have this amazing cocktail named after you? It’s called a ‘Sparkling Ginger’ and is just, wow, it’s delicious. Just so sweet and refreshing, you know?” You motioned to the bartender, who had heard your conversation, and was already busy mixing the drink in question. She carefully watched him reach for ginger syrup, bourbon, lemon juice and syrup. 

She turned to you, flustered. “Oh, I don’t know, I don’t really drink. Is it…strong?”

You mentally debated the relativity of strong and settled on a lie of omission. Somehow it seemed slightly less harmful than an outright lie. Both were as bad as the other and you mentally crossed your heart and promised to atone for this later. 

“It’s sooo good, you gotta try it.” you said in your sweetest tone, and with that you swiped the drink off the bar and pressed it into her hand. The bubbles fizzed and popped in the martini-style glass. She took a hesitant sip and instantly brightened up. 

“You’re right, this is delicious!” 

She took another sip and hummed appreciatively. Heart leaping, you gave her shoulder a squeeze and went to check on the food. This magic would take a little while to work. You couldn’t rush it. 

You were seated opposite Jack at supper, who kept sneaking glances at you. Pretending not to see them, you secretly burned to face him full on and do something about it. You knew you could never  - that would mean risking your job and reputation, as well as that of the resort. 

Unbidden the image of him clasping Alex's tanned, gorgeous bicep also drifted to the surface of your mind and you felt that pinch of hurt again.

You poked at your salad, thoughts a thousand miles away while the group chattered. You needed a distraction otherwise you were going to brood all night. 

Ginger, seated to your left, now seemed to be what you liked to term ‘socially lubricated’. Her eyes were a little glassier than usual and an easy smile framed her perfect teeth. 

You trod lightly into the murky waters of small talk. 

“So do you come here often?" You teased.

Ginger snort-laughed at your silly question and breathlessly replied "Uhmm…to eat? Often, but first time in Africa."

"I can tell, I love how excited you are about everything. Jake is a treat, he treats every animal sighting like it's the first time he's ever seen anything." 

You tilted your head. 

"You guys seem close, do you travel together a lot? What about your families?"

Ginger looked up at Champ for a brief moment before answering. "We are close, when you work together this much you don't really have a choice. Family, I dunno. Tequila and I don't have anyone at home, and Champ's been married for 40 years. Sheila is lovely, so patient with him."

"Jack…" her voice drifted off, like she was recalling a very distant memory. Her speech had started to slur a little, a tell-tale sign that the fizzy alcohol was humming through her veins. 

You felt curiosity tickle at the base of your spine and gently pressed her for more. 

"And Jack?"

She seemed to suddenly snap back to the present and looked at you with an unreadable expression.

"He's lonely….alone. I mean alone…now. Not…" she waved her hand as if shooing the troublesome word that had slipped out without permission. 

"Oh". You didn't know what to do with this and let the statement hang between you, getting thinner with each moment that passed. 

Ginger excused herself to get some fresh air. 

As the last plates were cleared away, Champ ordered a round of nightcaps for everyone. 

You started to protest but he shushed you with a wave of his hand and a wink. He really got away with everything by deciding that he would, and the universe just went along with it. 

“You take good care of us, ‘least you can do is enjoy a drink before we turn in for the night. Let’s move over to the lounge, my ass ain’t what it used to be for sittin’ all day.”

The group moved to the large leather couches around the fire, when Tequila reappeared. 

“Look what I found! Scored it off the barman.” he smiled, very pleased with himself. 

“The booze is free, Jake. You can literally walk in and take whatever.” you giggled. The cognac nightcap was velvety smooth but still felt like a lit fire inside your tummy. You sipped slowly, cognisant of the fact that you were still on the clock. 

Tequila motioned to a few wait staff to join them, and as it was the end of their shift, they carefully took off their name tags and got comfortable as Tequila poured them all a measure. 

Then he firmly closed the bottle and placed it on its side in the middle of the coffee table. 

Champ groaned.

“Son we’re all just enjoying a relaxing nightcap, you gonna start with your shenanigans again?”

The other man laughed. “Night’s still young Champ, and we have some very lovely company” he motioned to the waitresses sitting on both sides of him. They were very pretty, and clearly interested in him. The seats had filled up when you popped out to the restroom, and now the only space open was next to Jack. 

Ginger, having returned from the veranda some time ago, had been quiet for a long time. You looked over at her, and cringed a little. You should have known someone unaccustomed to alcohol would sip that cocktail like it was a coke. Three cocktail glasses stood as evidence near her place at the table. 

Her eyes were drooping slightly but she seemed very relaxed, a big, silly smile plastered on her face. 

Tequila looked around and yelped “Ready? Lessgo!” 

He spun the bottle, which landed on Marie, one of the waitresses. She looked at Jeannie on his right, and they giggled to one another. 

Tequila, realising what was going on, held his face out and closed his eyes. They both pecked a sweet kiss on the cheek closest to them and a big smile lit up his face. 

Jeannie spun the bottle, which landed on Champ. She threw him a coy look.

Champ scoffed. “My missus will be terribly unhappy darlin'. I’ma sit this game out.”

Ginger leaned forward and spun the bottle.

It spun a few times and slowly came to a stop on Jack.

She looked at the bottle for a long time, then grinned. "I'm not gonna kiss Whiskey, I have a better idea. He has to kiss our hostess."

 "I know he wants to.” she mumbled almost inaudibly, before a loud hiccup escaped her. 

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him in a panic, the liquor in your system suddenly seeming to evaporate as your heart throbbed uncomfortably against your sternum. 

The ache from earlier flared up when you told yourself he would probably laugh at this. 

Make a spectacle, playing it up like the yeehonk asshole he was. 

Jack’s searching eyes took in your discomfort. 

He turned to Ginger, mouth opened and poised to say something, but decided against it and turned back to you. By now the atmosphere was palpable, an artificial silence that made the crickets outside sound abnormally loud. Everyone was watching Ginger's taunt unfold. 

Jack shifted sideways until he was facing you, your knees touching at the edge of the plush leather couch. His eyes narrowed and a small smile tugged at his mouth corners. Something like amusement played across his features. 

Jack's hand came up to your face and settled with his thumb on your cheekbone, his fingers resting at the base of your skull. It felt warm and protective and you fought the urge to lean into it like a cat stretching out in warm sunlight. 

Selfishly, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sensation for a moment, as your eyelids dropped closed. The firm but gentle grip was an intoxicating feeling you could get used to.

You felt the warmth of him close to your face, his breath spilling over your lips like a wisp of invisible smoke. Anticipation snaked its way between your ribs, tugging at your chest and making your heart rabbit all over again. 

"You don't have to do this."

It was barely a whisper, spoken close to your lips. The words dropped to the floor between you, and your eyes flew open. 

He was giving you an out. He didn't want to do this, not with you, and he was asking you to make this easier without embarrassing you.

Merciful and cruel in equal measure.

You harshly pulled out of his grip, getting up like an unsteady foal. Humiliation and anger made tears well up in your eyes and you blinked quickly to dissipate your body's betrayal. You turned, grabbed your bag and made for the door. 

"I gotta go, Jim will pick you up in 20 minutes, goodnight!" 

You called over your shoulder, the last vestige of your normal voice leaving your throat before it pinched closed in a silent sob. Your legs went on autopilot to take you home as your mind reeled. 

God you were stupid. That was hopeful and stupid and so close. 

You slammed your front door behind you. You were still angry at yourself when you went to bed, and as you fitfully fell asleep, you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd shown too much of your hand tonight. 

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