#fangs fic

[fic-heaven]

Fangs (Gus x reader)

Chapter 1. Calvary is here.

[Master list]

Slight gore/ s#xual tension

-Your team is assigned to rescue a valuable contact, things take an ugly turn. The annoying tension between you and Ghost had accompanied you for a very long time, long enough to realize there's someone else paying close attention to you.

You dreamt of mangled skin and blood dripping from your mouth.

Even in the darkness of the room you could taste it. You knew it wasn't real but you could still feel it's texture, the smell and the pained screams of Hassan Zyani. You can feel the weight of Soap's stare as he allows you to go wild ripping the terrorist quite literally to shreds with your own hands and tee, your lieutenant and mentor, Ghost, overlooking at the scene with the visor of his MCPR-300 until he decides to break the silence with a dry "target neutralized."

He was meant to take the killing shot.

Ghost was meant to kill Hassan when the terrorist intended to throw a fatally wounded Johnny out the window, but it was you who after making it to the right floor grabbed Hassan throwing him to the side with force dislocating his shoulder in the process, and instead of using your handgun or your knife to give him the quick death you were trained to give, you took a much more personal approach with a crazed look in your eyes. You ended him by ripping his throat open with your teeth.

"Wake up, Hound. Come on."

His blood was everywhere, you were coated in it. Bathed in a pool of red with your turbulent mind darkened by a thin layer of feelings, confusion about what you did, utter rage because of what he had done and what he tried to do to Johnny, a war's baptism.

(Y/n) died on that building and something else took place. A wilder more primal part of that dead woman you used to be awakened within you.

"Hound."

That's how they started calling you since then. The hound, Price's loyal dog. All because you killed that bastard Hassan as if you were an animal sinking your fangs on your prey's neck.

Larger hands shake you awake by your shoulders, your eyes flutter open and you are quick to spot a giant skull mask glaring down at you.

"Mgh... My god, Simon... Can't you wake me with a kiss? Is this how you wake every lady you sleep with?"You joke referring to your quick nap in separate beds.

Your lieutenant gives you a nasty side-eye hiding his amusement while collecting your gear from the floor and throwing it your way. You catch it with a huff then you put it on as you look around the hotel room Laswell had rented for your unit to crash in while you waited for the backup to arrive so you could begin the mission. Ghost then growled "Not happening. Also don't spill your wishes out loud, Sargeant. I don't have t'remind ya that fraternizing with your lieutenant is strictly prohibited." Ghost hoarsely says looking at himself in the mirror from the vanity near the door. He's probably checking on the black paint around his eyes.

"But are we not allowed to get a boner out of thinking 'bout it, sir?"

"Touché." He clicks his tongue.

Ghost will never say it, but he fucking loves when you get this foxy out of nowhere, out of the lot of you, (aside from Johnny) you are the one who appreciates more his dark humour and he adores the way it perfectly fits yours.

You wheeze out a laugh and rush to meet him at the door of your shared room "Come on, LT. To deny our biological needs SHOULDN'T be a prohibition, don't ya think?"

Ghost snorts, you march down the hall, his bulky body eating up most of your field of view.

"Masturbation between teammates could be an amazing bonding exercise! Picture it!"

He gives you a glance "I can picture that alright..."

You smack his back grinning "No, no, but take this seriously. Imagine the captain-"

Ghost abruptly stops when you reach the stairs to the lower floor making you bump against his back, he turns around, slightly lowers himself to your level and carefully takes your hands with his to then lean in weirdly close.

"You just killed the magic with one word." That earned a laugh from you, he continued.

"Listen. Price, Gaz n' Soap are in the other room with the three other operators from SpecGru. Remember what I told ya?"

You sigh and put on your metallic facemask that resembled a dog's growling snout before listing: "Stay professional, keep a low profile and don't talk unless it's needed."

Ghost nods and you fix him a sassy smile under your mask "Since when did you decide to baby me?"

-"Since you ran yer fucking mouth and confirmed the rumours were true-"

-"That only happend once and I was drunk, come on..''

-"Once is all you need for people to keep bringin' up the bloody topic. Now they know for certain it was you and not me who killed Hassan and how you did it." Ghost spat poking your chest with an accusatory finger.

You looked up at him in challenge, he didn't waver but you notice his breaths turning a bit heavy once you got a step closer.

"I can play nice if you want me to." Ghost's response is silence and you speak lowly and careful this time.

"Simon, you know I can take the cold Sargeant role like I was made for it, right? Come on, don't fret, everything will be alright." You are whispering now because you are not dumb, you know the effect you have on Ghost. Your lieutenant has known you for long enough to know you are just toying with him and yet...

"...I know you can." His biological needs haven't been satiated in nearly a year and never by you. His star pupil and closest friend, someone he could trust yet never had intimated with, not in that level at least. As he said, it's strictly prohibited to fraternize.

You slowly nod taking pride on his dilated pupils and slowly move to take the hand he was using to point at your chest lifting it to your face so that he is now covering your mask over your mouth "You have me muzzled, LT. There's nothing I can do but obey. I'll behave like your favorite Sargeant, as always." He shivered but played it off by shoving your face away annoyed, you crackled maliciously.

"You are Insufferable."

_____

-"They had demonized her..."

-"Demonized her!? She ripped a guy's throat with her fucking mouth, Gustavo-"

-"It wasn't just any guy. Also that's rad as fuck, not gonna lie."

-"Reyes you are not helping!"

-"Good! Because I don't intend to help. Befriend the rabid bitch! The crazier the better right? Considering our line of work answer this: What's better? To have a crazy-dangerous ally or a crazy-dangerous foe?"

Nova pursed her lips as Reyes shot her a look that said "period."

Gus forces a tight-lipped smile "That about answers itself, hermano."

Ghost and you had walked to Price's room door where you were supposed to wait for him and the others but apparently the calvary had gotten in beforehand and decided to wait inside. You shared a look of surprise with the lieutenant, he lowly ordered you to wait outside to go in once the rest of the 141 arrived from the hotel's lobby where they were talking with Kate, but you played dumb and opened the door as casually as you could leaving an irritated Ghost following after you.

You two stand there in the now open door, the three operators sitting on the only bed looked up at you like three kids who just got caught doing something they shouldn't.

"Carry on. I love to eavesdrop." You humored.

The three of them looked your age, maybe a bit younger. A black woman with vitiligo, Nova, looked up at you filled with intimidation and weariness, to her left sat a man of pale skin and dark brown hair smiling widely with dark admiration and next to him there was a South American man with black, curly hair under a beret with a big moustache.

Once he saw your eyes lay upon him, the latin straightened his back. His golden eyes lit with recognition until his face contorted to a mix of his fellow partners' expressions. He looked awestruck, his golden orbes held a very noticeable admiration yet you didn't miss the nervous tremble on his hands before he hid them behind him in order to get up from his sitting position. You couldn't tell if he was excited or frightened.

Probably the latter judging by conversation you heard they were having plus your reputation...

"Sargeant Hound-...! My name's Gustavo Rodriguez, Costa Rican operator from SpecGru's private military company at your- at Captain Price's service." He explained, his body going rigid trying to show his respect.

"Gus, right? I saw your file on our way to Manhattan. What's a cop doing in the military?"

He could have very well turned into a tomato the moment he heard you had seen his file, Gus was quick to respond a little louder than before in order to muffle his partner's laughter at this whole interaction.

"I aimed to protect my country from cartel, mi sargento. But with no army where I live, once I turned of age i had to join la Fuerza Pública for five years until I was invited to join Costa Rica's Special Intervention Unit, which is uh... An Elite team tasked with matters of national security and reporting directly to the Minister of the Presidency."

You smiled amused and a little taken aback by his passionate spirit. "Until?"

You knew there was more to the story, after all he wasn't in Costa Rica. He was shoulder deep in the Terrorist shit your own task force was ordered to clean.

Fuck, SpecGru wasn't even supposed to be involved until Laswell magically appeared with the news that these three fools were contracted to help and support your team on this seemingly tedious mission.

-"Until two years ago when SpecGru was founded."

-"An opportunist, are you?"

-"Bueno, I like to say I'm ambitious. For the good of the people, of course... Not to impress your captain with a good CV."

You laughed at this, Gus smiled in delight instantly enamoured with the sound of your laughter.

Five years as a cop plus three in Costa Rica's SIU and two more years in SpecGru considering he entered the academy fast as hell equals twenty six years... How old was this sexy chunk of meat?

-"And how old are you?"

-"Just turned thirty, señorita."

-"Admirable. Happy birthday." You couldn't help but praise.

Your teasing nature quieted down at the presence of a promising lad working along your unit.

Gus smiled softly then, a sigh of relief scaping his plump lips. It felt good to be acknowledged by your idols.

You heard Ghost scoff behind you, Gus' two companions watch him incredulous because of his short (probably prepared) speech.

You ate up his delighted reaction trying to contain the toothy smile from under your facemask and slowly walked closer to him with a curious glint in your eyes and a small swing in your step. Gus didn't move a muscle, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"What do you specialize in, soldado?"

Hearing his mother's tongue from the one and only Sargeant Hound from the 141 he has heard so much about since he joined SpecGru made a shiver run up his spine.

"In hostage rescue and asset protection..."

Ghost looks down his watch inpatient to get this over with. Reyes, the other operator sees his opportunity to jump into the conversation seemingly as eager to interact with Hassan's butcher.

"Apologies for my brother in arms' fanboy moment. He was excited to meet you, after all... You could say we've got money on our pockets thanks to your bite." The Canadian jest with a teasing tone matching yours, he sounds so sure of himself you knew already this guy was one hot headed mother fucker with an ego that paired up well with Gus' humble nature and Nova's head-on-the-ground attitude.

-"Mind explaining that, um..."

-"Enzo Reyes, ma'am. Reyes for shorts."

You nod expectant. Reyes clears his throat.

"SpecGru and KorTac were founded after Hassan's death, your execution, as diabolical as everyone puts it, benefitted us greatly. So thank you, you crazy, cannibalistic bitch for giving us a job."

Your eyes widen at the crude wording, Gus looks away with a defeated sigh, Nova elbows Reyes' arm with so much force he smacks her arm back with a growl. Ghost did not like that one bit deciding to step up making his presence known in the room, anger emanate from his body mixing with the tense atmosphere.

"I like this guy." You laugh quickly dissipating the tension. You missed Nova's sigh of relief.

All of you quickly got alerted by the dry coughs of Price who stepped inside the crowded room with Gaz and Soap following behind. Ghost left space for his captain but you didn't, resulting in Price gently guiding your careless self to follow him with a hand in your lower back, like a father with a toddler. The captain sighed looking around the room making sure all of you were there.

-"I see we missed first introductions. Whatever, we can get started now that we're all 'ere."

-"About bloody time..." Ghost whispered and you snorted.

As the captain explained the situation, the three SpecGru operators stared analyzing your group.

All of you were attentive to your captain quickly leaving aside your shenanigans to pay attention to every word he said. After the hell all of you had gone through it was clear your loyalty to Price was unbreakable. Lord knows life has given you chances to leave the task force but none of you took them because you believed in what you were doing, because you believed in Johnathan Price, because you were proud to be part of something bigger than yourselves to help people around the world neutralizing threats so the future generations could live a more peaceful life.

Gus couldn't feel more admiration than he already did, his heart swell with pride and eagerness to work along you and he could already picture himself in the future begging Laswell and his Team Leaders to allow Nova, Reyes and himself the chance to work with you again.

The focused look in your beautiful, hypnotic eyes dragged the Rican back to the present.

To summer things up, one of Kate's valuable contacts from New York had gotten captured by an unknown enemy ready to be flown from Manhattan to another location she was still trying to figure.

The reason you needed these three other operators was because their german TL (Team Leader) was related to this particular objective. Stressed about the safety of his family member he sent three operators he personally chose to aid the 141 on the rescue as the hostage was equally important to both teams. Not to mention the amount of crucial information the hostage had.

Laswell had informed Price that the captured victim managed to send her a message saying he had heard something about being transported somewhere near LaGuardia airport until they could escort him to a secured plane.

"The message was sent from this location." Price said.

Gaz shows you the tablet he was tapping on. The pad reveals pictures of an abandoned psychiatric hospital in the middle of a gigantic clearing a few kilometers away from the airport they planned to take the hostage.

-"Easy to spot us in such clearing..." Soap observes.

-"We could infiltrate in the night. Use the darkness to our benefit." Offered Gaz.

-"Nah, that's still too risky, they'd probably had transported the lad by the time we get there." Debated Reyes.

-"Besides, we would be risking the hostage's life if we wait any longer for night to fall..." Nova finally spoke.

The captain cracked his knuckles, his eyes fuxed on the tablet until he shot Gus a look of expectancy. He too had read his file judging by the way he expected him to suggest something, the Rican had enough experience at hostage rescue to know a better strategy. Don't underestimate the captain, he already had a plan to offer but he wanted to give the three new additions some time to prove themselves.

Gus brushes his moustache in thought. "The sewers." He mutters, one gloved finger pointed to one miniature in the sea of images from the tablet, the miniature showed a complete map of the underground tunnels that crossed the area. Soap agreed with a click of his tongue and a nod.

Price smiled widely, his eyes crinkling.

-"We'll use the sewers."

-"I bet they know we'll use 'em to get there." You said, Gus nods and Price replies:

-"They sure as hell know we'll do. But they don't know how many we are."

-"Or who we are." Ghost said with determination.

______

Diving through Manhattan's sewers was like walking around an scenario from one of those old horror games you play with Johnny on his ps2.

Not to mention it was confusing as hell... There were tunnels everywhere, Laswell had warned you about this and to pay careful attention to the map as well as the river of shit that ran through the tunnels, apparently this stinky nightmare of a place was plagued with crocodiles. No joke.

To make the trip even more fun, Soap had spotted a trap at the beginning of one particular tunnel that stink worse than the others and you instantly knew this was the one you had to take to get to the clearing.

-"That tunnel will get you to the parking lot behind the main building. Find a hole to crawl out of and get in there as quick as possible." Laswell's voice resonated from your radios.

-"Understood."

You could feel someone's eyes on you the whole time. And although you always pretended to bask on any attention given, feeling someone's eyes on you constantly made you tick. So multiple times you had turned around only to find Gus looking elsewhere and Ghost keeping watch on the waters in case any croc decided to welcome all of you.

A distant booming sound made you all stop on your tracks pointing your guns ahead. Something had triggered a trap.

-"Probably a crocodile." Said Soap.

-"Or an enemy..." Smirked Reyes.

-"What's the difference?" You asked.

Your earpiece buzzed "For starters, the crocodiles don't have the brains nor the need to kidnap one of my most valuable contacts." Joked Kate.

The captain stopped all of you minutes after.

You all pointed your torches ahead, a litter of corpses spread across the tunnel.

-"We've got corpses 'round here." Gaz informed Laswell.

-"The hostage?" She asked, nervousness lazed on her voice.

The group begun inspecting the dead bodies, clear victims of various traps and mines around the place that the waters had dragged to your direction and got stuck in the junk and shit in the ground.

Most of them were dressing in matching dark clothes, others in casual wear, probably civilians who decided to dive a little too far where they shouldn't.

The ones with dark clothes held fire weapons, other than that they had nothing else.

"No trace of the objective so far..." You informed before the radio caught Laswell's sigh of relief.

Nova spotted one particular body at the further corner of the pit that caught her eye. She sat next to it, inspecting it's pockets with concentration until she stopped to wiggle on her spot.

-"Wot' am I sitting on?" Nova rose her bum only to stumble forwards with a yelp at the realization that she had fully planted her ass on an enemy's corpse. -"Shame it wasn't his face." She blurted out making Reyes snort.

-"The smell would have killed the lad instantly. But nothing compares to the smell of Manhattan's sewers...Worst mission of my fucking life."

-"It's Man-ah-Hatan, idiota" Gus wrongly corrected a few steps behind you. He was so close his sweet cologne almost covered the smell of shit.

"MANHATTAN, DICKHEAD! TWO DAYS HERE AND YOU STILL PRONOUNCE IT LIKE YOU ARE CONSTIPATED."

Reyes' bark echoed through the tunnel making the rest of you turn to them wide-eyed.

The glare Ghost shot them three made you giggle, the captain didn't keep quiet either instantly snapping at them to focus, Soap being Soap resisted the urge to laugh along and Gaz gritted his teeth at the seemingly lack of professionalism. You just smiled widely under your facemask and continued inspecting the place sneaking a wink to Gus' way, he blinked surprised.

-"Forgive their idiotic behavior, cap." Nova sighed "I've found some keys."

-"Keep 'em. We'll probably need them in the future." Price ordered ignoring the apology.

Following the tunnel your group of eight encountered an intersection. Two tunnels that went in different directions made all of you look at the map until another sound of a distant explosion caused your heads to snap to the right, guns loaded and ready.

"I wonder where we should go now..." you sarcastically said.

This time you caught Gus' amber eyes quickly adverting his gaze somewhere else with a contained smile. Curious.

Walking a little further to the right tunnel, you found a monster of a crocodile the size of the old leather couch Gaz had donated to the base a few months ago laying on the ground with an exploded tummy, it's intestines spread all across the ground, brick walls and the black waters. To your horror the animal hissed somehow still alive after triggering a mine.

-"Oh my god."

-"And they said crocodiles in Manhattan's sewers were a myth..."

-"Look at the size of that thing. What the hell do they feed on down here?"

-"Dead bodies of dumb divers probably..."

Reyes laughed "Thank you Mini-Godzilla for eating enough shit to trigger half the traps 'round here."

Ghost surprised you lowly laughing to himself. Surely he had remembered the dog pun he told you and Johnny while being chased in Las Almas.

______

The walk didn't last much longer for when your knees started protesting you found a metal door rotten by the passing of time, as Watcher-1 had said, behind the door you found the parking lot near the main building where they guarded the hostage.

The captain had split the group of eight into four teams since the building was big as hell, and although Laswell had located the signal from the phone the hostage used to send the message, the captain wanted to make sure all the building was clear to proceed with the rescue instead of throwing yourselves directly where they had secluded him.

The building was rotten all over, there weren't any traps like on the sewers and you found little enemies to neutralize in the quietest way possible.

Exploring the abandoned creepy halls in the light of day with the captain wasn't exactly what you had in mind, you felt a tingle of disappointment that he hadn't paired you up with any of the new meat SpecGru had sent.

"You are my right hand. Can't do this without ya." That's the excuse Price gave you. But you suspect he just wants to keep you on a short leash. Because who knows, maybe one day the story will repeat itself, right? Maybe you'll go crazy or run your mouth like you always do... You grit your teeth in anger. The captain and the others will not stop treating you like a radioactive isotope until you get evaluated by a professional on the base and as it turned out he was took a well-deserved vacation before you had the chance to pay him a visit.

Reyes and Ghost encounter a two-way hallway where they parted to the right while Gus and Soap went to the left, the captain and you followed upstairs and Gaz and Nova went to the other set of stairs on the opposite wall. At first you only used knives because packing gun silencers didn't mean you'd kill in total silence, and with the crazy echo this big building had thanks to the lack of forniture and thin paper walls you could easily hear the enemies talking and patrolling around. But things changed when all of you heard a gunshot downstairs followed by pained grunts and an unfamiliar voice.

"Idiot! Watch your fucking aim!"

All of you sigh in relief, shortly after Soap had slit that enemy's throat and Gus had done the same with the other before they joined you on the upper level, though in different halls.

You all cleared the building fast, or so you had thought.

You only took your eyes away for a second inspecting various cushioned rooms infested with rats, Price was a few steps ahead of you on the same hall doing the same thing with the rooms of the opposite wall until he felt hot pain hit his shoulder, he grunts in surprise alerting you instantly.

Looking further from Price was a young man with a pistol, he had this face filled with warn daring price to take another step, he hasn't spot you yet, you took advantage of this crouching a little inside the cushioned room you were previously inspecting.

-"Fatima, Bilal, Mustafa, Omar, Abdul, Salem..." The enemy listed. "I could tell you all the names of the soldiers you and your team had killed and yet you would not care. I stand here with a gun on my hand pointing at your heart and you still look uninterested... You have no souls. Disgusting animals sent to kill us all, but Duke will make you pay for what you've done. For general Ghorbrani, for major Hassan-"

-"HOUND-! KILL HIM!"

You launched forwards at your Captain's command, moving in zigzags dodging the numerous debrils, wires and junk around the floor, the moment the shocked enemy gathered his shit to point his gun at you his jaw cracked at the harsh impact you delivered with the butt of your chosen weapon instantly sending him to the ground. He screamed in pain chocking on his flowing blood but that didn't stop his trembling hands to try repositioning his pistol clearly wanting to go with a fight, though it was too late for the bastard because just as he got up you shot him on the chest at the same time rain of blood splattered to your face. Ghost had shot his head from behind when he heard the commotion. His eyes widened seeing your bloodied form appear behind the falling corpse, he froze thinking he had shot you in the head until-

"Oh come on, LT... I had it under control!" You cleansed your squinting face but you only managed to spread the blood and brain matter further. "UGH-... I need a fucking shower after this..."

Price rushed to you inspecting you pulling an equally worried Ghost aside, you did the same looking at his shoulder alarmed.

"It's just a grace, don't worry honey."

"Whatever old man... Just... Be more aware of your surroundings..."

Price shared a look with Ghost who quickly recomposed focusing on contacting Gaz, Nova and the others to keep their guard up.

"X ray down! And that's why you don't spend an eternity monologuing." Reyes humored walking in. The Canadian pushed the fallen enemy's head with the tip of his boot, his smile widening when he spotted your bloodied face.

"Gus would kill for this view~"

Nova's voice reached your earpiece "Cap. We found some makeshift cells. No enemies down 'ere."

"Copy. On our way..."

______

Walking to Gaz and Nova's position you found Gus and Soap along the way, and as Reyes had previously said, the eyes of the Rican were wide with worry until he realized you were healthy as a rose, yet his amber pearls would not leave your face for a second, not even when Price spoke or when all of you started walking. Was this guy smitten by you? It seems Reyes wasn't joking.

"Over there-" Nova pointed at the last cell to the further corner of the hall.

The Captain ordered Gus and you to investigate and Gaz and Soap to guard the entrance of the hall in case you missed an enemy while him and Ghost opened the door with some shears, Nova and Reyes were the first to go inside the pitch-black cell. Reyes lit the place with his torch and so did the captain and the lieutenant.

The body of the deceased hostage hanged from the ceiling by a metal hook that pierced his ankle. He was facing the wall before Reyes approached to angle the body to the light.

On his chest was a message that said "The hunt have just begun." Carved with a knife, the blood around the letters was dried to a very dark red almost black which meant it was scribbled long before your team arrived the building.

Nova approached the body with a perturbed face.

-"Holy shit, that's Karl... Team leader's son..."

Laswell's voice quickly reached your radios at this.

-"Is he alive?"

Ghost entered the cell. By that time all of you had turned to look inside as well.

-"Negative. He's dead, and by the looks of it, it occurred long before we arrived. The lad probably got caught sending you the text so they killed him."

The captain stomped in frustrated, then proceeded to inspect the body.

-"Sliced throat. They left a message on the body."

Price signaled Gaz to point his laptop's camera to the body letting Laswell see what all of you were seeing. She was quiet until she hummed in understatement.

"Captain!" Gus called from the other cell. Price looked to the right, sighed and left the cell to join the rican. You and Gus were inspecting a stock of documents near a laptop. Gaz entered the cell carrying his own to show Laswell the new cell.

"Sargeant Hound. Plug Garrick's laptop into the other one."

Gaz handed you a cable and you did as told, transferring every archive you could find inside it while the others swallowed the defeat in tense silence.

Soap was the first to speak up.

-"They called a name on their coms... Duke. I dunno, maybe he's the boss."

Now that you recall, the guy who tried to kill Price did mention that name.

"With a name like that he's gonna go mwaha-ha at some point, I just know it." Gus smiled at your humor.

Ghost smacked the cell's bars with frustration. "The bastard wasn't even 'ere. He must have ordered his men to pull this bullshit to call our attention."

Gaz massaged his temple placing down the laptop near you and the enemy's.

-"So he just placed this laptop filled with his malevolent plans near our target for us to find?" The brit said sarcastically.

-"Looks like it. There has to be more this than it might seem." Price hummed.

-"Maybe the target wasn't even Karl..." Nova said and all of you looked at her, her words making sense instantly.

-"Maybe WE were the target." She clarified.

-"If we are the target... Where's the ambush?" Gus voices out his anxious thoughts.

Reyes laughed bitterly.

-"That wit made us fall for it, Fuck! He even left a trail of crumbs for us to find and follow him into the devil's nest."

-"But where is this devil's nest...?" Price asked.

You lifted the laptop once you were done transferring the information and Laswell spoke up.

"Reyes is right. This... Duke, has kept a list of different locations on each archive. We must find which location he really is in and-"

You all waited a beat before the captain worriedly called out Kate whose voice went quiet as she read through the files.

-"This is serious, John. Duke isn't a nobody. He's the head of a mafia called Shiv Ka Haath, (Shiva's hand) from New India. He rules over a chain of different illegal businesses, each of them handled by people he trusts. A madam who owns the 70% of the nightclubs and brothels on the country, the head of a temple who traffics with weapons and drugs and lastly, his son, who has started his own busines organizing spectacles and fights of all kinds going from dogs, immigrants desperate for money to... even children fights. None of their names are mentioned but there's so much illegal activity listed in here...And that isn't all..."

You all listened carefully, realization hitting hard that this mission might hold more depth than you had initially thought.

"There's so much information here to investigate it's clear he wants us to find him. For now, take everything you can and go back to the base ASAP."

Price orders all of you to collect the Intel as he contacts Nikolai to take you and Karl's body back to the base.

_______

The three additions to the group sat in silence staring at the distance. They were aware the moment TL read each of their reports hell will break lose, and although this meant SpecGru will get involved on this matter, Gus allowed himself to feel a greedy relief that he'll possibly work alongside your team again in the future. If TL and Laswell approve, of course.

#fangs fic #fangs #call of duty modern warfare #gustavo rodriguez #ghost x reader #cod #my gustavito #mi osito gordito #call of duty #gus x reader #cod mw2

[devilfic]

thinking about lyla hiring you as miguel's in-person assistant because as good as she is, she can't stop miguel from throwing chairs across the room. she introduces you to miguel on your first day and he immediately tries to fire you, insistent he doesn't need someone to "babysit" him, let alone someone with half the muscle mass and twice the mortality. except lyla's the one paying you, and even if it's miguel's money, lyla has made sure he can't stop the checks from clearing. so you're here to stay.

he does his best to ignore you at first and for the most part, you rarely get in his way. he goes about his duties and you shadow him, only ever speaking when spoken to if ever at all. but then one day, he's had a particularly difficult time with an anomaly and suddenly his fangs are splitting his lip, his claws are punching holes into his desk, he's snarling and the rage is taking over him again.

he grabs the thing and flings it across the room-

and you catch it. you set it down, calmly, safely, and it's so shocking to miguel because he's never seen you exert more force than needed to open a door, and you caught it.

miguel's anger melts away just like that. he watches you exhale, watches you drag the heavy thing back over to him where he stands dumbfounded and feeling. silly. he didn't think- "instead of throwing things, you can take your anger out on me."

miguel goes blank. he sounds so pathetic when he fumbles for a "w-what?"

you smile, the first time he's ever seen you do so, "I'm a good partner."

this had to be a. prank, right? lyla had put you up to this? he knows it's been a while, and she'd made the joke plenty of times before, but. were you. really? miguel clears his throat, ready to rebuff you, but he thinks about it and...

I mean, it has been a while. "you work for me." he reasons. it's not a refusal, you notice.

"it's okay," you assure him, stepping closer, "this kind of thing's in the job description."

and god. miguel doesn't know, is it actually? had lyla really. done that? he'd muster up the embarrassment if you weren't standing right in front of him and smelling so good and this whole time he'd been convinced that if he even dared to touch you he might break you but you'd caught it without breaking a sweat. what else could you handle? what were you offering to take?

you step even closer and then-

your fists are up. you're crouching and your fists are up. miguel stares.

"come on, then," you taunt, smiling wider, "I've fought bigger."

sparring partner.

now miguel's really embarrassed. he doesn't even have it in him to actually take you up on your completely innocuous, innocent offer. you wanted to spar. you wanted him to take his anger out on you in a fight. you'd sapped the anger right out of him just from this conversation. maybe it'd be better if he took a nap instead. he hadn't had one of those in a while either.

when he continues to just stand there, staring, red hot in the face, you raise an eyebrow and your smile becomes a little... mischievous. "what? did you have something else in mind?"

part two

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #marvel #mjwrites #gonna go look at pictures of miguel tied up and fangs out

[shirozora-draws]

... anyway, I got given ideas. Guess this is what happens when I go several months without drawing anything.

First art of 2023, first art post of 2023, and full of the energy I hope to carry into the year. This is the way, and all that.

#shirozora draws #dinluke #skydalorian #lukedin #din djarin #luke skywalker #grogu #r2d2 #porgs #x-wing #fang fighter #star wars #the mandalorian #and a massive explosion of all time #the movie kiss of all time #inspired by a convo in discord while I was on my 'Where's Mando?' Disneyland trip #and off I go frantically finishing up the staircase fic so that I can scramble to start posting the 3quelfic before S3 drops #Happy New Year fuckos!

[amhrosina]

SPIDER-VERSE WAS INSANE FOR THIS!!!!!!!!!

#did y’all see his CAKE???? #mans has FANGS #it’s like they’re begging me to write a fic #where the fangs come OUT #miguel o'hara #spider man #spider man 2099 #beyond the spiderverse #spider verse #across the spiderverse #amhrosina

[theminecraftbee]

So, here's how it's going to be:

He's not going out first this time.

Jimmy decided this, blood roaring in his ears, as he stared down at a blood-red piece of paper. His heart is pounding. His teeth are sharp. His claws are bared. He's a big dog, and big dogs, they aren't weak little birds. They've got bigger lungs, and teeth to protect themselves with, and they fight off wolves and coyotes and bears with spiked collars and a roar of a bark, and--

He's not going out first this time.

He's not going out first this time.

It's really simple like that, isn't it? Yeah, he might feel bad, but--but did anyone ever feel bad for him? Do more than go, alas, poor Jimmy, we barely knew him? Did anyone ever do anything more than lay flowers on his grave? He's tired of it! He's tired! He's so tired!

He's not going out first this time!

He's not!

And he'll do what he has to in order to get there. If that means learning to bite, well.

He cleans Lizzie's blood off his sword. He almost didn't mean to, is the thing. He'd feel more sorry, but he's tired of it. He's so tired of it.

He's not going out first this time, and if he goes out, it will be kicking and swinging and howling.

That's just how it's going to be.

#secret life smp #secret life spoilers #a bee fic #jimmy solidarity #just. gesturing at him. he's gotten a little bloodthirsty this time huh? #like yeah he's still JIMMY but. #spinning him. he's so. he's so very. #good luck out there getting fangs boy.

[bbcphile]

Is anyone else sad because Fang Duobing has a "Waiting For Li Lianhua On the Beach" outfit?

(On the left is the outfit in episode 40 after reading Li Lianhua's letter. On the right is the outfit in the special episode when he and Di Feisheng show up on the donghai beach to look for him 3 months later.)

While we're on the subject of costumes, @the-surreptitious-albatross and I just realized how different this outfit of Fang Duobing's is from his earlier outfits.

Here are some examples of a normal FDB outfit:

He prefers pastels, and his belts and wrist guards are often the same color as the pastel or a slightly darker version (and here, they have gold decorations).

Zooming in shows that he prefers his embroidery designs to be swirly and his hair accessories to be braided and color-matched or elaborate and silver (but still on the delicate side).

But check out this outfit: the embroidery is more angular and less swirly, as is the hair piece, and it and the belt and wrist guards are black with silver instead of matching the pastel of his outfit or being a slightly darker shade of it.

You know whose style he's echoing with all these changes? Who else tends to favor black wrist guards and belts with more angular designs?

Di Feisheng.

The images below make it a bit clearer: DFS's belt has gold decorations compared FDB's silver, and the shape is different, but you can see the similarities in the wrist guard design in particular.

It's not obvious how much their costumes are tying them together in this scene because we don't ever see them in the same frame; the camera constantly keeps them apart, as does the blocking of the scene, since DFS is on the rocks and FDB is on the beach.

That changes in the special episode when they both arrive on the beach at the same time, and DFS is wear his sect leader robes.

Here they are, in the same frame at last, and side by side, and you can see even more clearly with this DFS outfit how much the style of FDB's belt, wrist guards, and hair accessory is echoing his. The wrist guard pattern looks almost the same in these pictures! And the cut of the outer sleeveless robe is also very similar, which visually pairs them even more.

All this to say, FDB's clothing style shifts, the gentle swirls sharpened into points by his worry and grief for Li Lianhua, and it breaks my heart.

But the fact that he's visually echoing Di Feisheng now, that they're slowly becoming a matched set, is starting to put the pieces back together again.

#mysterious lotus casebook #mlc meta #Fang Duobing #Di Feisheng #Li Lianhua #costume meta #lhl #I really meant to write more of my fic today #and instead this happened #thanks the-surreptitious-albatross! #Difang #difanghua

[difeisheng]

A Jianghu Mystery of the Middle Xi: The Tomb of Li Xiangyi

By Qiling, University of □□ (2024)

Left: A photograph of the inscribed text at Li Xiangyi's tomb, reading, "The grave of the Sigu Sect's departed Sect Leader, Li Xiangyi". Right: Artist's sketch renditions from eye-level frontal and aerial side views, recreating how the tomb may have appeared during the Xi dynasty.

Among the numerous important archaeological finds from the Xi Dynasty, the tomb of Li Xiangyi is not the most well-known, nor has it yielded any artifacts of particular intrigue, yet it has raised questions about certain points in history since its discovery. The tomb constitutes a small site, near a mountainous overlook which should have received little common traffic at the time of construction. Its structure is in line with some other aristocratic burials of the Middle Xi period: aboveground, with a chamber at the center of a raised rectangular dais several meters wide, large enough to bear only a single individual. A stone marker, which has survived in legible condition until today, declares it the tomb of Li Xiangyi, leader of the Sigu jianghu sect.

Records about Li Xiangyi are found at other archaeological sites contemporary with this tomb, and so his name is not an obscure one. The Sigu Sect complex has already undergone excavation for nearly two decades, with evidence that Li Xiangyi spent several years there as its first sect leader and founder. His tomb is within two hours' walking distance of the Sigu site, though isolated in its location, compared to the Sigu Sect's grand mountain entrance. (The complex itself was inhabited well after his death; bamboo slips cite Qiao Wanmian as the Sigu Sect's next major leader some years after, who oversaw it for several more decades into the later Xi). In addition, the Baichuan-Pudu site, closer to the eastern coast and historically the headquarters for the Baichuan Court, is affiliated with Li Xiangyi. Its origins apparently lay in an offshoot of the Sigu Sect, which grew into its own independent legal organization after his death.

Legends surrounding Li Xiangyi's life have been well-documented, both at Sigu and Baichuan-Pudu, but also in books and transcriptions of oral stories at sites around the country. These are dated to both the Middle and Late Xi periods, as well as a few scattered mentions in writings from the following dynasty. As a jianghu sect leader and swordsman, Li Xiangyi's reputation truly preceded him. Some tales speak of his early accomplishments, ridding towns of villainous tyrants and defeating criminals. Others talk about the founding of the Sigu Sect when Li Xiangyi was seventeen, and his subsequent missions leading his fellow swordsmen to protect the borders of the country. Not all of these narratives can be verified with surviving historical proof, and given Li Xiangyi's status in the shifting canon of folklore, the percentage that are hyperbole or fiction is likely significant. However, one that should be true, and is the most frequently told story throughout these sources, is that of Li Xiangyi's death.

All texts place Li Xiangyi as having died relatively young, with some providing a specified age, generally around twenty. He perished in a duel with Di Feisheng, leader of the Jinyuan Alliance, a rival jianghu organization and presumed threat to the Sigu Sect. As the sources say, the Jinyuan Alliance killed Li Xiangyi's sect brother, Shan Gudao, and in retaliation he used the Sigu Sect to launch a war against the Jinyuan Alliance. His final battle was the last in this war, dying in the East Sea on Di Feisheng's ship. The Jinyuan Alliance in return was badly defeated by the Sigu Sect; excavations at its first compound in the last five years have shown evidence of siege, with fire having destroyed large parts of the buildings. Afterward, the Sigu Sect disbanded without Li Xiangyi, with only the Baichuan Court continuing to function, before being resurrected one decade later.

Given this knowledge we have about Li Xiangyi, the matter of his burial should be straightforward. He had a tremendous impact on the jianghu in the few short years that he stood at its peak. He died heroically, if tragically, to obtain justice for a brother. He was honoured with a tomb, standing guard over the sect he dedicated his youth to. Why, then, is said tomb regarded as somewhat of a mystery?

This tomb was first stumbled upon during extended surveys of the Sigu site territory, with excavation taking place within the last two years. Parts of the stone chamber and foundation of the dais have withstood time, as have most things left inside. The tomb bears no signs of looting. However, there are some details which, alongside discoveries from other archaeological sites, contribute to a shadow of uncertainty on the existing narrative of Li Xiangyi's life.

Firstly, is that the austerity of the tomb does not line up with what we know of Li Xiangyi. Although overall sufficient enough for someone of his great reputation, the tomb is rather plainly embellished. There are an unexpectedly small number of burial objects inside, with those present being neither rare nor expensive. For all his contributions to the jianghu, less money and resources were poured into remembrance of Li Xiangyi than seems proper for his time.

Secondly, and far more significantly, is that the tomb holds no human remains. Whether the fact of Li Xiangyi having no recovered body to bury was made public is unknown; if it was, we do not have record of it. Certainly those who arranged for the tomb to be built and sealed would have carried this with them the rest of their lives, but no one else may be accounted for. Granted, it is not impossible for a disappeared body to have been common knowledge or presumption, as Li Xiangyi was killed at sea with no guarantee of being found. Yet this, combined with the ordinary appearance of the tomb, causes the entire site to appear... a nominal thing. Constructed to maintain acknowledgement of Li Xiangyi's absence, though his death was only marked by words, rather than a physical state.

He was given a tomb, but was Li Xiangyi truly dead before it was built?

In terms of the aforementioned other archaeological site findings, there is one that potentially implicates Li Xiangyi's death at an interesting political junction, within the context of the dynasty. The Xi Dynasty was unstable and relatively short-lived, established after taking back the Central Plains and adjacent territories from the southern conquering state of Nanyin. It endured for just under two centuries, the first of which was fraught with pockets of conflict, with many jianghu skirmishes such as that between the Sigu Sect and the Jinyuan Alliance. The greatest threat to the Xi Dynasty (until its fall) came one hundred years after its founding. Recovered archival records from the Xi capital excavation report that remaining Nanyin loyalists attempted a coup, supported by jianghu organizations, including a restored Jinyuan Alliance (although whether Di Feisheng was still its leader at this time is unclear). This attack was ultimately unsuccessful, but important to note is that the leader of this renewed Nanyin force is described as being Shan Gudao, Li Xiangyi's former sect brother.

Although Li Xiangyi brought the Sigu Sect into a war upon news of Shan Gudao's death, that demise seems to have been faked, with Shan Gudao disappearing underground only to reappear as part of a later rebellion. Could Li Xiangyi have been aware of this? Was his reaction to Shan Gudao's apparent death genuine? Or part of a coordinated plan, using him as a reason to destroy the Jinyuan Alliance, to eradicate any future resistance? Did Li Xiangyi, too, fake his death alongside Shan Gudao, in service of a shared cause? Were remnants of the Sigu Sect instructed to build an empty tomb, cementing Li Xiangyi as a dead hero so he could work in the shadows of the jianghu instead?

This is merely speculation, contradicted by the fact that if Li Xiangyi had indeed done as such, unlike Shan Gudao, after his duel with Di Feisheng he has no reappearance in any surviving records or at any archaeological site. As well, Li Xiangyi should have had no motivation for committing to such a scheme, with even loyalty to Shan Gudao a stretch for putting all the lives of the Sigu Sect on the line. That being said, history has a way of surprising the present, and this theory may not be entirely ruled out. At any rate, Shan Gudao's survival is a baffling accompaniment to Li Xiangyi's (lack of a) burial, one which will hopefully receive clarifying answers in future archaeological developments.

Perhaps the strangest piece of the puzzle concerning the end of Li Xiangyi's life, however, is Di Feisheng. After the Jinyuan Alliance was scattered by the Sigu Sect, stories regarding Li Xiangyi declared him dead and disappeared. Yet not unlike Shan Gudao, he became known in the jianghu once more about ten years later, witnessing the Nanyin's attempted coup and living long after. His tomb remained untouched, and was excavated eight years ago as part of the greater Tianji Mountain site project. The location of Di Feisheng's tomb is surprising, not only because it directly links him to the powerful and wealthy He clan of Tianji Manor, but also because he was buried next to their sole young master during the Xi Dynasty, Fang Duobing.

The son of financial minister Fang Zeshi and engineering master He Xiaohui, Fang Duobing became a notable youxia travelling the jianghu in the emperor's name, assigned in the wake of the attempted Nanyin coup. According to palace records, he was also betrothed to Princess Zhaoling, although the marriage agreement was eventually formally dissolved. What is otherwise known of Fang Duobing was his admiration of Li Xiangyi, having styled himself as a follower and disciple of him during his youth. As well, one eye-catching artifact among Fang Duobing's burial goods was a preserved wooden replica of a blade, with Li Xiangyi's name carved near the hilt. Likely a children's toy, prized and kept safe throughout Fang Duobing's life.

The exact nature of the relationship between Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing is not entirely certain, but it must have been a very close one, for Di Feisheng to have the privilege of burial on the Tianji estate. This topic justifies future study for our understanding of the Tianji He clan, already known in prior generations for its socially subversive relationships, but pertinent to Li Xiangyi is that the man whose most infamous act was to kill him, was laid to rest beside one who revered him. Why was there such a bond between these two figures, if the stories of Li Xiangyi's death have any truth to them? Did Li Xiangyi really die by Di Feisheng's blade? Did Li Xiangyi's empty tomb, plausibly signifying Di Feisheng's innocence, alter his relationship with Fang Duobing? Or indeed, did Li Xiangyi, the man himself, have a part to play in this?

No traces of him from this time remain in the archaeological record, true. But this should not be taken to mean without doubt that he was not alive then at all.

The discovery of Li Xiangyi's tomb has been an exciting development for studying this era of the Xi Dynasty, but it has also outlined doubt in areas of one man's life that were previously taken as likely facts. Li Xiangyi's tomb is scarcely fitting for his name as a founding sect leader, built more for the sake of its existence than anything else, and there was no body sealed inside to begin with. In addition, Shan Gudao— someone dear to Li Xiangyi— established a precedent of faking his death. Di Feisheng, known across the jianghu for killing the man, held a close bond with someone later in life who had personally looked up to Li Xiangyi, and so he may not have been fully responsible for Li Xiangyi's death to begin with.

What truly happened to Li Xiangyi, resulting in a tomb such as this? The past holds the answer, knowing things that we do not. Hopefully the future of archaeology will continue leading to new discoveries, and allow us to more completely understand the legend that was Li Xiangyi.

#this is probably a better archaeological research paper than the one i wrote on sanxingdui a few days ago #anyways hi yes. i just impulse wrote a fake archaeological paper for fun. enrichment. whatever #also i tried not to sound too pop culture archaeology in this #to any other anthropology or archaeology majors. if it comes off that way i am sorry </3 it's past 4am rn #mysterious lotus casebook #li xiangyi #di feisheng #fang duobing #ashton writes fic #difang #<- to any difang shippers just sit with me for a bit and think about these two being buried together

[petite-phthora]

Please don't shake the cat

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 13]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

Private chat nicknames:

RedHood = Jason

Danny = Danny

---

Private chat

RedHood: *picture*

RedHood: this yours???

---

Seeing the picture of Ellie clamped onto Red Hood’s arm Danny lets out a sigh while rubbing his forehead. He takes a few seconds to look at the picture while deciding on how to reply.

---

Private chat

Danny: you don’t happen to be in Mexico right now by any chance, do you?

RedHood: No.

RedHood: I was out patrolling when I was suddenly bitten by her.

RedHood: Thought it might have been a criminal or stray cat or something like that at first.

RedHood: I was not expecting a feral teenager, but I can’t say this is the first time it’s happened.

Danny: damn, she was supposed to be in Mexico 😕😥

Danny: I guess this is what she was trying to tell me with that cryptic message she sent me huh

Danny: and the stray cat analogy isn’t too far off to be perfectly honest 🤔

RedHood: So you know her?

RedHood: Can you help me get her off? I’ve tried prying but she’s got some sick ass jaw strength.

RedHood: Which would have been pretty cool any other time, but it’s currently not really working in my favor.

Danny: I’m so sorry about her 😓 😓

Danny: we’ve been trying to teach her to ask for consent first

Danny: but it’s still a work in progress 😅

Danny: of course I'll help you get her off!! 😊🙃

RedHood: Great! You’re at your apartment, right?

RedHood: I’ll be there in two shakes.

Danny: please don’t shake the cat 😰

Danny: she’ll get grumpy and might latch on even tighter

Danny: I’ll come to you instead 🙃

Danny: you said you were patrolling, so crime alley, right? 🤔🤔

RedHood: Well, yes, but I doubt you’ll be able to get up where I am right now.

RedHood: Let me at least come down to the ground first and I’ll tell you how to get here.

RedHood: Danny?

---

Jason looks down at his unread messages with a slight frown. He puts his phone away and looks back at the teenager on his arm.

He gives his arm a small shake, causing her to growl at him which immediately makes him stop.

Right… No shaking the cat.

Jason lets out a weary sigh before looking down over the edge of the building to the ground below. He’s trying to think of the best way to get down with only one functional arm when a voice breaks him out of his reverie.

“Hey, Hood. I’m here!”

He turns around, slightly alarmed that there’s a second person who managed to sneak up on him tonight.

Damn, he’s getting rusty

Though from anyone whom he had been expecting to see, he had not been expecting to see the guy he messaged a minute ago standing behind him on the roof.

“How did you get here so quickly? And for that matter, how did you even get up here?” Jason asks confused.

“Oh, I flew” is Danny’s casual response, which gives Jason more questions than have been answered. But before he can decide whether he should bother asking for clarification Danny already moves on to the next topic.

“Anyway, let’s see what we can do about this,” he says, approaching Jason’s arm and the girl that’s hanging off of it.

“Good luck,” Jason says, holding out his arm a little better and watching bemused as Danny and the teen have a stare-down.

“Ellie, what did we say about biting others?”

The teen, Ellie, narrows her eyes and growls at him. Danny just crosses his arms and gives her an unimpressed stare.

“Nah-ah, you have to let him go. We ask before we bite someone. It’s called consent. Don’t make me get Jazz to give you another lecture”

It’s clear to Jason that Danny’s attempt at talking to her isn’t working when the teen proceeds to glance at Jason calculatingly before giving Danny a challenging look and biting down harder.

Apparently, it’s clear to Danny as well, as the next thing he does is let out a put-upon sigh before declaring “Well, I gave you a chance. Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way”

Danny then grabs a hold of her and tries pulling her off of him.

What is his life? Jason thinks as he’s standing there while Danny tries to physically pull the teenage girl, who decided his arm looked like a nice snack, off of him.

Though luckily for him, it seems to work as not a few seconds later Danny has pulled her off of his arm and is now holding the teenage girl with a bloody mouth up by her armpits.

Danny sets her down with a sigh but before he can speak up, the teen crosses her arms and levels Jason with a sharp look that makes him straighten up.

“Thou winneth this round, Red-Helmed Knight of the Night. Though thou should be prepareth, as the upcoming trials will be even more toilsome” Ellie declares while pointing at him, uncaring of the blood on her face.

“And I,” She points a finger back at herself for emphasis, ”Sir Ellie of the Infinite Realms, will—” she gets cut off when a fly enters her mouth.

Danny moves to help her but she holds up a hand to stop him, using her other hand to thump on her chest a few times.

She spits the dislodged fly out onto the floor and glares at it.

“Curse you! Foiling my monologuing once again!” she yells after the fly as it flies off.

Right…

Jason turns to Danny.

“So is she your sister?” he asks curiously. And totally not trying to fish for more information about Danny and his family.

Instead of Danny answering the question though, Ellie cuts him off.

“I’m his love child with the mayor of our town.”

Danny gives her a disgusted look.

“Ellie—”

She looks back at Danny with a shit-eating grin on her face.

Yeah, definitely siblings.

“I love my dads!” she says proudly, her eyes still on Danny.

Danny gives her a deadpan look in response before it changes to a more mischievous one.

“Oh, I’m sure Vlad would love to hear all about how you reclaimed him as a father figure—”

“Oh Ancients, no. Don’t even joke about that” She fake gags at him before turning back to Jason.

“Can I change my answer? I’m his bodyguard” She says, pointing her thumb at Danny.

That makes both Danny and Jason raise an eyebrow at her, though Jason’s can’t be seen through the helmet. They speak up at the same time.

“A bodyguard, huh?”

“No, you’re not, that’s Frighty”

Danny’s statement makes Jason pause and turn to look at him.

He’s got a bodyguard?

Ellie shakes her head happily.

“Nope! I took over the position. My knightly title isn’t just for show, y’know? I earned it fair and square!”

“When did this even happen? And why was I not told?” Danny asks, bewilderment covering his face.

Jason stays silent as he tries to make sense of the conversation.

“About…” Ellie takes a moment to think about it “3 months ago? I think it was when you were dealing with some time chores. And I thought it’d be a nice surprise, so… Surprise!” she exclaims, doing some jazz hands at the end of the sentence.

“What did you even do?”

“I snuck up on him and threw a Fenton Wii remote at his head which knocked him out cold. It counted as a win so I earned the position by right of conquest and gained my knighthood” She says with a shrug.

“Huh… think that would’ve worked for Pariah Dark as well? Would’ve made things so much easier…”

Ellie gives another careless shrug as Danny lets out a small reminiscent sigh. Meanwhile, Jason stands awkwardly to the side.

“Well, either way, I’m proud of you. Do you have a video?”

“Tucker filmed it for me, yeah”

“Nice”

They high-five with grins on their faces. At this point, Jason lets out a small cough which has the Fenton siblings turn around startled and proceed to then give him identical sheepish smiles.

They really look like they could be twins…

“Ah, sorry Red Hood. And again, I’m sorry for Ellie.” Danny says, rubbing the back of his neck with a small blush on his face.

“I’ll take her back home. And uhh… see you next time?”

Jason gives him a smile from under his helmet.

“Sure, if you’re still up for that next date?” Jason trails off with some hope.

His words make Danny’s blush darken.

“Ah uh, yeah! Yeah, of course! The next date! Uhmm, I’ll text you! Or you can text me. That’s fine too!”

Next to him, Ellie rolls her eyes and makes some fake gagging motions. She then grabs Danny by his arm and starts dragging him away.

“Come on, Loverboy. You can and your paramour can flirt later. When I’m not there… and after he’s passed my trials” she says, muttering the latter part low enough that Jason can’t hear. But, judging by the way Danny’s head snaps back to her and how his brows furrow, he did hear.

Just as Jason goes to reply, giving them a thank you and a goodbye of his own, perhaps even an offering to help them get down from the roof, he picks up on movement behind him.

Quickly turning around has him regretting not leaving the rooftop earlier, as he watches the Bats (and birds) land.

Fuck.

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea   @uraniumwizard    @why-must-i-be-like-this   @griffinthing @i23432i @imsotiredfanficlovertm

#dp x dc #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dead on main ship #jason realising danny has fangs + pointy ears + has a way to fly + is pretty cold: :0 vampire! #at this rate jason's gonna think he's the bella swan in this story #gonna be living out his main character in a supernatural ya romance novel dreams #the supernatural part for this 'dream' is new but ehh he doesn't mind #big thansk to sami_the_simple on ao3 for the please don't shake the cat line lol #they said something like that in a comment and i loved it #anyway hopefully i'll be able to update some more soon #but in the meantime i hope you enjoy this chapter :)

[uselessimpulses]

i can guarantee its awful country music in the background but theyre having a blast

a post trimax livio n vash twt art request for a friend 💕

#livio is my son livio and razlo my sweet boys my darling babies #vash included but lets hear a lil commotion for livio #i love them so much their friendship post trimax is something i could write a hundred fics abt #let them have a drunk night out w dancing and embarrassing stories #yes post trimax depressed farmer nai included let livio man handle him into dancing #my sibling n i wanna make nai n vash line dance at least once someone please understand the vision #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #trigun maximum #trimax #vash the stampede #livio the double fang #trigun livio

[fic-heaven]

Fangs (Gus x reader)

Chapter 2. I bite.

[Masterlist]

Code name: Hound.

Tags: ⚠️mentions of child abuse/ angst/ Poor Gus getting beaten/ corpse appearance/ confrontation/ reader is tired of everyone's bullshit.

- Hound complies on a psych evaluation but it only brings her more headache and heartache as ghosts from the past return to her. Thankfully that motivates her enough to finally spit her anger to the whole team, some are understanding, others are not but there's one particular person that seeks do something to soothe the ache she feels.

The flight home was filled with quiet comments about how the mission went and only when you reached London did you actually begun talking about Duke.

Nik had taken all of you for a second fly on his Heli. You all had taken quite some time reaching England, Nik's old helicopter had to take a stop for him to check on it before going to the base, you all worried about Karl's body condition.

-"So what are we supposed to do now? I mean, the hostage is fucking dead and that stupid guy with an even stupider name is gone. He really is playing hard to get..."

Price sat next to you on the helo after going over to confirm that the SpecGru operators were speaking with Laswell and their team leader. He huffs and goes to lit a cigar before you snatch it and place it between your lips. Price takes another, lits his and with the freshly burning head he leans close to you burning tips without breaking eye contact, you don't waver, just smirk and stretch your muscles letting the nicotine burn down the annoying feeling of defeat, your head shooting back letting the captain eat the view of the expanse of your neck.

-"Didn't you quit smoking?" He grunts.

-"You didn't answer my question. I did but... Fucked missions call for fucked ways to deal with failure." You sighed, your eyes firmly trained on Karl's body covered by a white sheet already turning red with his blood.

-"We didn't fail, Hound. This whole rescue wasn't as pointless as you think. We gathered enough Intel to keep Laswell and the CIA busy for weeks." Price pats your arm comfortingly.

He felt slightly concerned when he saw the way you stared blankly at the body. Eyes dead, full of apathy and lips slightly parted like you were watching a chunk of frozen meat sitting on the freezer. You weren't like this before. You weren't this... Dry and nonchalant.

-"And yet..."

-"And yet people die. We are not invincible and we don't have super powers. Can't be faster than a bullet, stronger than a tank or teleport to places where people need us the most. We can only do so much, and we surely did our best today, Hound."

You take the Captain's hand and he squeezes it immediately. It helps, but at the same time it doesn't. It never is that simple with you...

Why do you have to be so difficult? Why is it so easy for them to move on but you hold onto casualties along other failures the way you do? Maybe that's why you did what you did with Hassan.

Maybe this job is too much for you, slowly eating the little humanity you have left, shaping you into the monster they all want you to be and yet they fear you'll become it... Fucking hypocrites.

"Mother was right." You think to yourself. "I'm too weak."

A dog's love and loyalty is pure, is unconditional, with no trick or pretention behind it. But raise the dog wrongly, teach it to bite, to do bad, and you'll make a beast out of it. But why teach a hound the way of violence if you are so afraid of the repercussions? Of it to bite, of it to draw blood.

Price is right. Even if you go back to the base with a corpse instead of the living hostage you were supposed to rescue, at least you have brought Laswell shit ton of juicy work she was eager to investigate the soon you'll hand her the laptop and the other folders. You imagine her in her office drinking coffee like it's water as she reads the previous information sent from Duke's laptop while waiting for all of you to arrive.

Ghost surprises you sitting on your other side and nodding a small greet. He mirrors your side-eye, tired eyes meeting even more tired ones. He's got something to say, you know the old man too well.

-"They assigned you a new psychologist in the base." He said casually, you scoffed under your mask.

Soap flopped to your feet crossing his legs with a supportive smile, Gaz walked slowly to the group standing next to Johnny but he didn't smile, he looked bored with the topic.

What?

-"What is this? A family intervention?"

They didn't laugh. Your smile falters, your fingers throw away the cigar you were enjoying previously.

-"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm fucking fine?"

This caught Gus' attention from his seat.

Soap interfered trying to calm you from your defensive state.

-"Come on, (y/n)... It's just a psych evaluation, you know we all take 'em from time to time-"

-"If you don't get evaluated I'll send you home."

The Captain's sudden response shocked you. Ghost grew stiff but remained silent, Johnny looked at you with pity but he hoped you'd understand, Gaz on the other hand... He looked angry, but it's hard to decipher why or with who.

Lucky for you, the helicopter landed and you practically jumped from your seat to scape this tense situation but Ghost grabbed you by the hand almost knocking you on your ass.

Price looks at you sternly when you turn to them once more.

Your hand shot to your mask about to throw it and spit out some colorful words but suddenly all of the boys stood up and threw themselves at you quickly, all of them but Ghost who took a step back just as startled as you by their reaction. Out of the three men who quietly scolded you for trying to take the snout-shaped mask off, it was Garrick who made your eyes snap his way.

-"Don't you fucking dare take that off."

You could feel your breath constrict at his hostile tone. You remember Gaz being the closest thing to a brother you ever had since your father took your sibling and left you to rot with your alcoholic mother. But this wasn't the Gaz you knew.

-"Y' heard the captain. You either evaluate or you can start packing your shit and go back to your mother."

It was mentioning her what made you jump to Gaz with a snarl but a pair of arms stopped you caging you against a warm body you did not recognize.

-"LET GO OF ME! LET GO!"

-"Tranquila..." Gus' voice was calm, not harsh, not fearful, not like your team's.

-"See!? This is what I was fucking talking about!-" Gaz snapped.

-"ENOUGH!" Yelled Ghost startling all of you.

-"Kyle, she got what I said." Price scolds, this time more calm and looking at you with guilt. The glare you shot him made John shag on the spot awaiting whatever you wanted to say, but you stayed quiet trying to contain your anger as your body shakes because of the adrenaline. Gus' arms are your anchor right now. The SpecGru operator allowed you some space to readjust your damned mask that acted like a muzzle.

Nikolai warned you all to get out of the helicopter so he could take Karl's body. An obvious excuse to stop the drama before Gus let you go. You turned to him, hostility written all over your eyes, his body heaved just as yours but he didn't reflect your hatred. He didn't react the same way the others did when you turned into a wild thing. The rican calmly got down of the vehicle and offered you his hand, you took it and jumped down with a quick thanks, he hummed in return.

His other two comrades waved him off before trotting inside the base, your team got out of the Helicopter, only Soap stayed behind to aid Nik while Gaz followed the other operators inside fuming in quiet anger, Ghost and Price waited for your answer after sneaking a look to Gus who did not leave your side ignoring their glare. He had no candle on this burial and yet he stayed.

"I'll fucking go. But when I leave the office, it'll be my turn to talk to all of you. There are some things you boys clearly don't see, and I'll take great pleasure on refreshing your dusty brains a bit."

_______

Once you finished your report of the mission you carelessly folded it and walked out of your private quarters, walked to the right leaving the barrack's hall but before you could take the stairs to Price's office you heard something on the other set of stairs that went to the lower floor.

- "-Y'like it huh?"

- "Of course he does! Look at him!"

- "You wanna end up dead? That it? We could make it faster, more merciful... Think 'bout it, Rodriguez."

Rodriguez, Gus?

You leaned back a bit with the folder firmly tucked under your arm. A group of rookies were crowding someone on the wall under the stairs you were supposed to take. Leaning a little further you saw Gus who was smiling and chuckling nervously with his arms tense and hands lifted, an obvious sign of distress trying to calm his fellow battle mates. They all joked and mocked him and he just took it with a smile and a shrug, he didn't seem like the confrontational type. Which surprised you because he was the one who stopped you from beating some sense into Gaz an hour back.

"Venga, maes... I'm doing my job..."

"Your job huh? Come with us to the training field, we wanna see how good you do your job."

"Haha sure, okay, but let me finish my-"

One of those jerks, much smaller than the Rican, shoved him to the wall so hard his head banged painfully against the bricks while the others laughed as he winced.

"You are so funny with your big super Mario moustache and cute accent..." He mocked Gus' frowning face until another lankier guy spoke up.

"You are coming with us now or you'll end up lookin' like a Van Gogh's painting. Just like your Team Leader's son."

You fisted the folder you were holding at the mention of today's casualty. Something in you pushed you to take a step their way until a gigantic shadow towered over them, someone was trying to take their stairs and did not shy away from making presence. You stepped back about to resume your trip to John's office until you heard the new person growl to the other rookies with an all too familiar voice.

"You look like a chunk of fuckable meat. Are you?"

There was an awkward silence until you heard some rushed steps and a grunt followed by more rushed stomping and a dragging sound, the rookies were moving out of the way and taking Gus with them outside. When you looked downwards to their late spot you saw Ghost staring right at you. His eyes were soft but held a seriousness in them that made you scoff and turn back.

"(Y/n)."

Your lieutenant rushed his steps to get to you when you were almost reaching the top of the stairs. You turned to your side mauling at your lower lip.

"You wanna watch Metalocalypse later...?"

Out of all the things you imaged Ghost would say... He said this.

You sighed and smiled huffing a little, you were relieved that he didn't mention a word about what happened on Nik's chopper.

Then you nodded.

"After I hand the report and get evaluated... I'll go to your quarters if I can, if not I'll probably be beating the crap out of the doc and the others."

Ghost hummed pleased with your response and instead of leaving to his quarters like you expected him to do, he followed you upstairs.

You both headed to Price's office where the captain welcomed you warmly with a soft spoken "Well done. Now let's get to the doc's."

Both Ghost and Price accompanied you downstairs. You found Soap already waiting there, leaning on the wall with a troubled look. He gave you a worried glance before he walked to your side, Ghost steps back allowing the Scot some space to comfort you.

You were nervous, they all knew it.

-"Gaz...?" You asked.

-"He's... He'll come for sure. Then we can all talk like ye wanted. I'm sure everything will go alrigh' lass." Soap's comforting voice followed by a soft nuzzle on your masked chin made your anger increase, you moved your head away.

"I promise not to bite the doctor's throat off. Don't you worry." You spoke coldly as soon as your name was announced by the new therapist who was eyeing down some papers he was holding.

"Wait..." His voice wavered. And you stopped mid step when he lowered the files from his face.

A pair of eyes exactly like yours looked up at you in shock. The captain, Ghost and Soap were astonished at the sight.

"Oh you've got t' be fucking kidding me! Who the fuck planned this!? Is this a REAL family intervention now!? CAPTAIN!" You snapped looking at Price but his visible confusion confirmed this was actually a coincidence.

Fuck whoever was up there assigned to write the book of tragedies that composed your life. Fuck whoever planned to put your fucking twin brother who you hadn't seen since you were nine years old as your therapist.

This had to be a sick joke because if it wasn't, you wouldn't be laughing like a mad woman right now as the others stared with no clue on what to do or say.

You laughed because of everyone's faces, you laughed at Price for putting you on this position for thinking you needed professional help without even consulting you first, you laughed because your twin brother looked just like you but with a terrible-looking beard and a psychology degree. You laughed because monsters don't cry.

-"(Y/n)..." Garret sighed when your laughter started dying down and you covered your eyes because your lower mask already hid half your face.

- "I'm sorry gentlemen. This is  unfortunate..."

-"If you ask my unit to leave this hall I'll kill you in your sleep, Garret." Your elder brother by a few minutes, folded his arms looking at you with pity but masking it with a carefully put neutral expression.

How professional Garret Archer was. Oh wait! That's your mother's last name, obviously he kept your father's after they ran off leaving you under the care of an alcoholic, abusive excuse for a mother.

- "Captain Price. As a therapist I cannot treat family members because it would-"

- "You are no family of mine. Now treat me before my captain kicks me out of the force for killing the right man in the wrong way." You spat. Your brother felt the raw pain and resentment bathe your words. His calm voice reached your ears before your Captain's.

- "I understand. I-It'll only be a simple evaluation. And due our history and absence in each other's lives... I believe it could work. Please step inside to get started."

Price took your hand before you stiffly walked in, his eyes were much more regretful than before. He better be sorry.

- "We could wait for a replacement..."

- "No, thank you. Keep in mind that if I don't get evaluated soon I'll lose my job, your words."

Soap stepped up looking even more guilty than Price.

- "Listen, (Y/n). We wanted t' help ya or at least find someone who could. But this guy is your brother..."

Your unit knew your life story very well. After almost ten years knowing you it was natural that you'd eventually open up about your childhood and your reason for going to the military.

Ghost could read your mind like it was his own. He stands in between you and the other two worried and guilt tripped men nodding at the door signaling you to get this over with. You complied but not before spiting out.

- "As i said, I'm not a fan of being jobless. I have a huge passion for earning money by killing bad folk so I'll suck it up. But you better be here to listen to what I have to say when I'm done getting fucking evaluated by my own brother I haven't seen in almost two decades."

It was only fair. It wouldn't take too much time.

They promised to be here and so you went inside puffing up your chest and adverting your eyes from your ever watchful twin brother.

______

Imagine the horrors a Sargeant like you had witnessed for your brain to react the way it did when you had Hassan at your mercy. For you to act like a caged animal instead of a composed, disciplined soldier.

"Unbalanced, feral, inhumane." Those are the adjectives your unit and other people you associated yourself with used to describe your behavior in battle and sometimes in the comfort of your own base.

Garret tended to study the background of people he'd treat before the first session. He was attentive to every detail. For him, even the fact that some patient's pet goldfish died during their childhood was very important to the moral growth and could perhaps affect other aspects of said patient's life. He didn't get to fully enjoy his entire childhood and adulthood with you, his beloved little sister who at  time he would have given anything just to make you smile.

His father... Your father, abandoned you to your luck with the abusive woman who birthed you.

Garret would constantly ask your father why. He'll simply say "Because you were product of your mother's infidelity." The twins she birthed, you and him, were from another man none of you even knew.

"Then why, father?" Garret would ask "Why did you take me? Why not (y/n)? Why not both or why none at all?"

He never got an answer from him. With time he learned to keep quiet about the matter and eventually he moved on, studying psychology to understand people like your father and your mother. To treat anyone as to prevent them from becoming emotionally unstable husks like your parents who passed their personal demons to their children, without ever trying to change their ways and soon enough creating new issued people with more hate and pain to torment the future generations with.

He sees you now, and Garret is split in two again. He sees his sister's body littered in scars you vaguely explained were product of your mother's so called love and your dangerous work. He sees you say it with so much nonchalance he realizes it's not forced. You are used to it, to pain, to people in your life marking you emotionally and physically and he believes the diagnostic he'll end up giving you will be long and colorful, he even readies a few markets of different colors to help you understand what each diagnosis means. Until the evaluation is done and he is slightly taken aback.

You self-analyze almost daily.

You exercise regularly as a way to maintain focused and not lose shape also to keep your mind busy.

You are already aware of the points he gives you on your conduct and can distinct what's morally correct than what is not.

You are SANE.

But why would a person like you who had gone through so much behave the way you did when all of you had cornered Hassan?

Perhaps the situation proved to be too much and your mind collapsed, but you knew what you were doing, you knew it was terrible, macabre even.

"I bite." That's the excuse you gave him, and for a moment Garret saw your father in you. You only showed him a small fraction of the huge iceberg within the depths of your mind. And even if he wants to know more, to be unprofessional and involve himself in your life again to keep his little sister in check and protect you from yourself, he has to restrain himself. And so Garret hands you the piece of paper you had been eagerly waiting for, you snatched it from his hand with vigour, got up, politely thanked him and closed the door behind you before your twin had the chance to offer you his contact.

When you spotted your whole team sitting on the lined chairs on the wall of the long hall, they snapped their heads your way, including Gaz his eyes wide and expectant, thankfully they lacked the hostility he had during your last interaction. The paper you were holding was shoved to Price's face.

They all read it quietly while you crossed your arms.

"How'd it go?" Ghost asked copying your stance.

"Fucking peachy." You chirped.

Your eyes went to Price who got up still reading your twin's observations.

"Now it's your turn to listen to what I have to say."

Gaz nods once with a "Go on." It rubbed you the wrong way, fueling the fire within you. Soap called Price's attention patting his shoulder blade. Now all of them were giving you their full attention. Showtime.

"In all the years I spent working alongside you I've seen so many things that paled in comparison from what I did to Hassan. I'm aware of how I've been handling my work, how bloody and messy missions had turned."

Price tried to comment but you shut him up pretty quick pointing a finger his way.

"I've seen YOU, Johnathan Price, open a man's cranium with a crowbar like it was a coconut. I've seen sweet Johnny strangle a man with so much force his neck snapped to later claim unnecessary violence wasn't his jam. I've seen Ghost throw acid to a woman's mouth we were meant to interrogate in Brazil because she wouldn't speak. And yet YOU, GARRICK, SIT THERE LOOKING AT ME LIKE I'M THE WORSE HUMAN BEING YOU HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED." Your booming yell reached the men like a thunder, even Ghost had to look away.

Gaz's mouth opens and closes like a fish, his surprise making you remember that he was never present in those many horrific times you had mentioned. He started activity working with all of you when 141 was formed, young Garrick had barely worked a mission or two with the other men, he didn't know them like you did only getting to see a little but of their true violent nature. Poor young man.

"The day you have to commit an atrocious act in the name of self-defense and defy what you consider right I will be there watching, Gaz. Perhaps then you'll understand how fucking insulting it is to be wearing a facemask because your team wants to keep everyone safe from you and hide your identity." Your voice wavers a bit, Ghost tries to comfort you but you move away. The desperation, betrayal and frustration clear on your next words:

"You are all just like my bio family, but Price, YOU are the worst. You made me think that I was understood, that I was safe, never alone-"

"You are not alone (y/n)." Price quickly said standing up, his normally stoic face was filled with grief.

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING HOLE! YOU ARE ALL LIARS! Stop pretending you are not embarrassed of me when you are even worse than I am. I don't need none of you, I don't need no one but myself."

You did not leave room for them to speak when you turned around and left ignoring their weak calls until Price decided it was best to give you space.

"I'll prove it to you."

______

You went out to the training field overlooking at the rookies from a ramp near an emergency exit from the main building, your boot quickly tapping down the floor, you needed a cig.

"Jesus Christ." You said under your breath but it was loud enough for the man before you to huff out a laugh.

-"Miss Hound."

-"Rodriguez. The fuck happened to you?"

Gustavo's face was littered in small cuts, his lower lip was busted, his huge moustache did a poor job hiding the damage, his arms looked bruised as well with multiple patches of red as if someone had punched and kicked him, in no time they'll catch a purplish color for sure, his white tank top had big, brown stains from being shoved to the dirt and held some specks of blood here and there. Poor man was a total mess.

The rican looked hesitant, surprisingly he found himself doubting whether to snitch on his bullies or not. So he opted to shrug it off joining your perched form up the ramp limping until he got close enough you could smell the sweat and blood from him.

-"Just uh... Well, the greetings I got for joining this new base were a little... Rough, I suppose."

-"Is that how you call getting beaten up? A greeting?" Perhaps it came a little rougher than you intended but the other operator chuckled.

-"That's the army right? Where I come from It was way worse, trust me."

-"Did you even fight back?" You said tilting back a bit to better face him.

-"Nah..."

You couldn't help but gasp out a small surprised chuckle. What a weird man. But he didn't seem like a bad person either, he took the beating like a champ and didn't even say who gave the punches.

You two spent some time alone then, quietly commenting on how terrible the new groups of rookies have been behaving and how shameful it was that you had to trust your lives on assholes like these. Gus didn't complain much, he did agree on mostly everything you said and shared a story or two about how cruel the men at his first base were.

"What a shit day we both had, huh?" You sigh, Gus grunts a "Si..." As he leaned on the wall to your left, your bodies almost touched, yet you did not complain or move away.

-"Miss Hound." He calls out.

-"Rodriguez." You reply again like the time you saw him limping to your resting place.

-"Might I offer you a plan to make this day less shitty?" That perked your interest.

-"Wanna kill the rookies and my team? Cuz' that'd make my Friday less shitty."

Gus laughed wholeheartedly and you smiled charmed by the bubbly sound of his laughter.

-"No! Actually I was thinking... I have a tradition with Reyes and Nova. Every time we come from a hard mission we try and find someplace to break things and blow off some steam." Gus explains and you crock your brow tempting him to explain further. "There's a place conventionally close to your base in which you rent one of the rooms and-"

-"You trainna' fuck with me?"

Gus straightened his back startled by this accusation as he shook his head and hands denying your inquiry.

-"ABSOLUTELY NOT! I mean- no, no. I wouldn't mind at all, though. But it's not that. Listen to me!"

He was so adorable getting frustrated and embarrassed you couldn't help but laugh at his stance.

-"We rent a room and they give us some tools to break things! Like old TV's or windows even! It's very satisfying..."

You have never heard of such a place and right now you could use some destruction.

-"How much does that even cost?"

-"Free. I'll invite ya! Well, you could help me patch my wounds as payment, I'll take a quick shower and we'll head there as soon as I'm done. What do you say?"

You look back to his golden eyes and find nothing but adoration and eagerness. You two needed this. It's clear you are not the only one having a rough day, the bags under his eyes spoke volumes of how tired he must felt for having to deal with his Team Leader's distress and the sudden beating for a greeting.

"I'll patch you up real quick but only after you shower, pretty boy."

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #gustavo rodriguez #my gustavito #mi osito gordito #call of duty #gus x reader #fangs #fangs fic #gus call of duty #cod gus

[harmonysanreads]

*kneels down*

HAAH WHA??? HELLO? SOMEONE PLEASE PINCH ME AM I DREAMING????????

for context

Okay okay... I'm done screaming irl, this is?? I'm lost for words how beautiful it is???? I just woke up so I'm having a hard time processing reality (I legitimately screamed and now my mom is looking at me with a lot of concern) I wish I could be more eloquent but I'm just floored from how moved I am. Wdym "kneels down" I'd have you sit on a throne if I could :< RIP that friend who doesn't even have a name, you died a tragic death but at least it gave us exquisite content ✨

#beloved-brynn #i'm not joking the expressions backgrounds and the shot of arle's eye where reader is saying 'where is my friend' is EXACTLY how i imagined #her little fang poking out on the first panel<333 amazing detail #and the fact that you probably did this while juggling through quizes and classes?? i wish i could hug you #i'm very very very happy that you chose to illustrate this specific sequence of dialogues bcuz tbh the whole fic was built around them #will save this brag about to my friends and cherish this forever #also i wanted it to be a surprise but i'm currently working on your request!! (i nearly fell out of my chair when i got it) #and uh you made my whole month<333 #arlecchino #vampire arlecchino #yandere arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #about ; pantomime of the night #yandere arlecchino x reader

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Damian: *comes home*

The batfam: *has been turned into literal bats and birds*

Damian:

The batfam: >:(

Damian: *starts taking really good care of them and is nicer to them than ever before*

The batfam: :O

The one white bat that Damian can't identify and assumes is behind this: >:3

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #batman #robin #damian wayne #please #i just need a fic of all the batfam as animals trying and failing to bully Phantom into turning them back #and Damian being super loving towards his animalized family #heck even TIM gets pet #tim does not get coffee though and hes mad about it but he also really likes how the water in his tiny bird bath feels on his feathers #so theres some give and take #jason has tiny fangs and hes willing to use them #cass is small and fluffy #bonus points if this does not stop tim from his detective duties or Batman himself from patroling #batman ends up in the local paper #Actual Bat Beats Up Scarecrow

[peridot-tears]

Ficlet:

Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing outlive Li Lianhua by decades. On the twentieth anniversary of the day he finally succumbed to the bicha poison, Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing park the Lianhua Lou by the East Sea to visit his grave.

They are about to leave when the ocean mist clears, and they see smoke in the distance. Perhaps a raided village? Judging by how thin it is, it has been burning for some time. Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing are not as spry as they used to be -- gray streaks in their hair -- but they are prepared to investigate when they hear a cry.

The current washes up a baby in a basket, like an offering to them both. Fang Duobing rushes to pick it up, and when they finally make it to the village, they find that a local family has been massacred, their manor burned to ashes.

They raise the child as Li Anle, but call him Xiaohua or Huahua as a nickname. For the child is precocious as he grows, taking to martial arts as if he was born to carry a sword. When Di Feisheng first teaches him to spar, he rams the wooden sword into his chest as if he could see the spot where his scar is. When Fang Duobing brings home a dog, Huahua insists on a list of increasingly outrageous names, beginning with Qilin and ending on Hulijing.

The first time Xiaohua hears Di Feisheng call Fang Duobing by his milk name, he giggles and sings out "Fang Xiaobao!" the rest of the day, careless and unfilial. Fang Duobing does not have the heart to chastise him. And when Xiaohua begins dueling with the neighbors, he always uses his winnings to make Di Feisheng chicken legs for dinner. They try to convince themselves that it's because they miss their friend, that they're old and sentimental, but they're terrible liars, even to themselves. So they watch the child skip rocks along the East Sea, and when he turns around, they catch the sharp and clever glance of someone who did not merely wither into the earth, but like a lotus, transformed.

#this all happened because i keep seeing fics where xiaobao is the kid taken care of dihua as parents and i was like WOULDN'T IT BE FUNNY IF #but then it became sad #uno reverse huahua gets to be the xiaobao now #the anle is a reference to llh's favorite poem #'i don't desire riches for peace (anle) is king' #anle is made up of the words for peace and joy #ficlet #lian hua lou #mysterious lotus casebook #mlc #lhl #difanghua #difang #di feisheng #fang duobing #fang xiaobao #li lianhua #li xiangyi #llh #lxy #fdb #tears falling like peridots #莲花楼 #李莲花 #李相夷 #方多病 #方小宝 #笛飞声 #狐狸精 #fanfic

[padawansuggest]

Time travel AU - Obi-Wan’s teething starts to pay off

Obi-Wan: *FINALLY gets a single fang cap out with his furiously concentrated teething… hands it to a confused Jaster because he is a small teen wtf is he supposed to do with a tooth cap???*

Jaster: *takes it with a wince* Thank you, Ob’ika, what a lovely gift for me to give your buire when they get home*

Obi-Wan: *grunts out thanks and goes back to concentrating on removing the other five fang caps* Thanks.

Jaster: *wiping his hands with a sanitary cloth and dropping the fang cap in the baggy Silas holds out for him* As I was-

Guy he’s in a meeting with: Um. Did your ad just lose a tooth? Isn’t he a bit big to lose teeth still?

Jaster: No, he didn’t lose a tooth.

Guy: …you lyin??

Jaster: I mean, he didn’t lose the WHOLE tooth-

Guy: IS HE OKAY?????

Jaster: *head in hands* He’s fine, this is normal for his species.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #incorrect star wars quotes #jaster mereel #time travel #my fics #a traveling circus #Obi don’t give a fuck he tryina remove half his mouth he’s having issues talkin #these damn fangs are takin up too much room!! #Jaster is giving it to alpha he doesn’t know if alpha and Cody want to save these

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 16: Riddles

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.8k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

The manor is mute except for the scratch of paper as you flip the page of Astarion’s sketchbook and contemplate the detailed drawing of yourself. You frown as you try to brush the name over the woman, painting her with the letters and hues of every syllable. It doesn’t matter what portrait you look at; the name still feels foreign and unrecognizable.

Whoever the woman in these drawings is, she is lost to you. She took her name to the grave, and some things cannot be exhumed. You close the book, your eyes sailing up the wall toward the ceiling.

Should you miss her? Grieve her? Forget her?

Climbing onto the bed, you hold your palm out, summoning the flames from the candles. You close your fist to extinguish them and let the black wings of darkness envelop the room. You have a strange feeling that you’re not entirely that woman any longer, which you can’t put into words. You were disassembled somewhere between life, death, and this everlasting afterlife, and your pieces weren’t arranged in quite the same pattern.

You have lost and gained so much in so little time. Would you recognize yourself even if you had a reflection?

There’s an ache in the vacant chamber where your dead heart hangs, frozen in the static state of death. The pang of discomfort doesn’t belong to you, though. Astarion has been leaving the link open more and more, and you’re learning what he meant when he said the world around him seems to move in slow motion.  

You once made the mistake of thinking Astarion could no longer feel, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. The reality is that he feels everything with an intensity you cannot begin to fathom. His emotions are like shooting stars. They streak through him, blazing bright and winking out in the blink of an eye.

His beating heart gives away Astarion's return. He doesn’t bother lighting a candle when he enters the room, hanging his formal suit coat.

You light a candle with a twitch of your finger. “You must forgive yourself, Astarion.”

Astarion sighs, rubbing his face. “What gave me away this time?”

“The same thing.” You splay your hand across your chest. This is not the first time you’ve mentioned the ache, as if your heart is in a perpetual state of being torn. “When you hurt, I hurt.”

You feel his intention to cut the coupling, to give you a break from the pain, and you fight against it.

“Don’t,” you rebuke, narrowing your eyes at the increasing pressure in your head. “Please. Stop trying to shut me out.”  

Astarion’s eyes fall to the sketchbook you left on the bedside table. “Do you not recognize your name still?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head and fidgeting with your fingers. This is the whole reason for the pain he’s been wallowing in—a bog of guilt and shame. He’s more upset over it than you are. You smile, making your voice a gentle hug. “Give me some time, and I will get used to it.”

“You should not have to get used to your own fucking name,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes closed, and the pain in your chest increases. It feels like your heart is warping itself into knots. “Not even Cazador went as far as to remove my name from my memory.”

“You are not Cazador,” you snap back sternly. “Stop comparing yourself to him. The situation is entirely different.”

“No,” Astarion growls, raising his voice, overtaken by repulsion. “I’m something much worse. At least there were limits to his power. No restrictions hinder me.”

“Good Gods! Just stop!” You yell, jumping off the bed. You’re unsure if your anger is partly due to what Astarion is feeling or your irritation at his self-loathing. At least he cannot remember taking you to the kennels. You don’t think he will ever recover. “You’re not him, and you’re not the darkness inside. You must separate the two.”

Astarion scoffs, turning away and waving dismissively, “I think it best if you rest in your room tonight.”

You deflate, anger being replaced by his disregard and the sharp sting of rejection. Astarion has been making you sleep in your room for days. At first, you thought he needed space, but he’s only become increasingly distant and withdrawn.

“Why are you doing this?” You step toward him, but he tenses and shies away, making you halt. You try to decipher his retreat through the bond, but Astarion is carefully guarding his emotions.

“Doing what?” He asks casually, keeping his blank stare on the wall.

“You show me an open door, then slam it on me and pull the rug out from under my feet!” You look up, hating that tears have begun crawling down your cheeks. “You think keeping your distance from me is keeping me safe, but you’re tearing me apart. Do you even want me here anymore, Astarion? Should I go?”

“Don’t go,” he whispers, brittle and weak. If your hearing were not so sharp, thanks to your vampirism, you wouldn’t have heard him. There’s another stab in your chest that feels like it rips the muscles right off your bones, and you whimper, clutching at your skin. “Please.”

“I can’t take this anymore,” you plead, taking another step, only to watch him tense. Your arms drop to your sides. Your heartbreak is affecting him. You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, and he winces almost imperceptibly at every sob you stifle. “Why are you pushing me away?”

Astarion finally turns, wracking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if I can be what you need me to be—what you deserve.”

“I know you don’t love me,” you sigh, shrugging. It always comes back to this. “You need to listen to me; let my words sink into your skin and fade into your soul. I missed you with such intensity that it felt like I died every day we were apart. You are my forever, even if I am not yours, and that’s okay.” You shake your head dismially, unsure how to get through to him. “I love you. Goodnight.”

You’re near your room when Astarion appears in front of you out of thin air, and you bump into him. He vaults you off your feet and into his arms before you can register his movement, making you yelp at the surprise of having your feet swept out.

“Shit,” He holds you firmly against him, his lips pressed to your forehead in a lingering kiss. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave. Stay with me, little love. I need you.”

“Stop pushing me away.” You tangle your fingers into his hair, with your face nestled into the crook of his neck.

“I will.” His hand comes to the back of your head as he walks back to his room and places you gently on the bed with adoration in his eyes. “You are my forever, Illyria. Aeterna Amantes.”

“Lovers forever,” you finish, sidling up close to him and laying your head on his chest.

The teeth of guilt gnawing inside your chest cavity have finally relinquished your heart as their chew toy, and all that remains is the steady thrum of Astarion’s borrowed heartbeat.

“Until the world falls down, my love,” he purrs, placing a finger under your chin and his lips embracing yours.

The slow rocking rise and fall of his chest is like the sway of gentle waves; the beat of his heart is a lullaby whispering serenity into your soul, and you slip peacefully into your trance.

Upon waking, your hand meanders across the silken surf of the sheets, only to find Astarion’s side of the bed cold and void. Rolling onto your back, your eyes drag open, and you listen for the telltale susurrus of a heartbeat. A frown creases your forehead when you’re met with nothing but the anonymous creaks and groans of the manor.

Astarion doesn’t usually leave without mentioning his absence as a warning to stay indoors and away from the windows. A florid scent catches your attention, prompting you to turn your head.

On Astarion’s pillow, a red rose rests and a folded note with your name penned in his delicate, flowing hand.

“Good morning, beautiful.

I apologize for my absence, but I am not far. I’ve left blood for you in the kitchen.

Eternally yours,

Astarion.”

The promise of awaiting blood stirs you to your feet hastily. Your belly coils with anticipation, and you barely have enough restraint to dress and run a comb through your hair before you’re bounding down the stairs.

A golden goblet, elaborately etched with prismatic dragon scales that mirror yours, sits on the counter. You snatch it greedily and bring it to your lips. The blood is cool, so you allow your palms to heat slowly, warming it as it inspires your taste buds to recite their devotion to the ambrosial elixir. It’s unmistakably Astarion’s blood. It knocks you over in a wave of delirium that makes your knees weak, and you lean into the counter to keep yourself from melting into the floor.

You’re not sure if it’s your imagination or reality, but you veritably hear Astarion chuckling in your head.

The meal is finished too soon, and you groan as you clean the last traces from your lips. When you open your dreamily heavy eyes, another folded note, previously hidden by the flared base of the goblet, catches your attention. You blink rapidly to clear the insensibility glazed across your sight before you can make any sense of the words before you.

“Find me using the clues I have scattered for you, my clever Illyria.

We have much to discuss.

“Reminisce beneath the faded tapestries, where laughter once echoed; seek the embers of our stolen kiss."

Clues? What in the Hells is Astarion up to, and what the fuck do you have to discuss? An icy shock runs from your dead heart into your feet. Is it possible he found out about Mizora and knows you’ve been keeping something from him? Would he play a game of cat and mouse with you?

You would not put it past him.

He’s left the link between you open, and you cannot feel any malice vibrating in the orchestra of emotions. If he’s figured out your secret, he’s hidden it well.

You stare at the hint with a furrowed brow. Embers of your stolen kiss? Faded tapestries? The pad of your finger rubs over the fringe of scales scored into the goblet’s surface while you think, and then you realize the damn chalice itself is another tip.

This does not belong to Astarion, or it didn’t before you and he stole it after breaking into a shop one night during your adventure. Astarion caught you eyeing it while you were buying supplies. You deemed it an impractical purchase. There was a far more dire need for healing potions and other necessities than to waste coin on frivolous trinkets.

He woke you up that night, dressed entirely in black, and dragged you back to the shop for a thrilling night of thievery and resulting debauchery. Where did you two go after to celebrate?

The Blushing Mermaid.

You dress quickly in a red dress with lace sleeves and a glimmering, golden dragon that snakes up your side. The skirt hugs your hips, flares slightly, and flutters around your knees. The golden bands of the matching hairpiece and circlet wreathe your forehead and long hair.

Throwing on your sandals, you stop dead at the door. The sun still shines outside, as evidenced by the tawny luminance glowing between the cracks in the drapery.

Astarion’s voice frisks across the bond: “You needn’t fear, love. You are safe.”

“What are you up to, Ascendant?” You query back, opening the door slowly and sticking your hand in the small ray to validate his claims.

He giggles, “Solve the riddles, and all will be revealed in time.”

The sky sings of sunset in hues of fire hearths gilded with golden inlays. Despite Astarion’s assurance, your skin still flinches over your muscles as if trying to pull itself away from your figure. Your eyes keep steadily on the majesty of the horizon as you trot through the streets to the Blushing Mermaid.

With the recent meal sloshing around in your stomach, your bloodlust is easier to manage. Still, when citizens brush by with their dainty necks on display, you’re tempted to give them a nibble.

The tavern is as busy as it typically is for late afternoon, but most patrons take no notice of you, engrossed in their revelry.

“Ah, the leaking blood bag.” Captain Grisly’s voice drifts from her quarters. “Nice to see you again. I hardly recognized you without your quarterstaff and haggard, blood-soaked robe.”

When you turn and her eyes catch the cracked crimson of yours, she gasps but holds her tongue with a clenched jaw.

You smile reassuringly and taunt, “Don’t worry. I won’t bite unless you ask very nicely.” There is something about people being afraid of you that’s thrilling. You cannot explain why. Perhaps you’re learning to accept this new you instead of feeling ashamed. It’s freeing. “Was my pale companion here earlier?”

The woman eyes you skeptically and nods, “Yes, Lord Ancunin was in earlier, but he warned me not to assist you.”

“Of course he did.” You roll your eyes as Astarion chuckles in your head. ��It was nice to see you.”

“Please try not to make a meal out of my patrons,” Captain Grisly smirks. “The cleaning bills are already enough of a menace.”

You chuckle while your eyes dart around, trying to remember what you and Astarion got up to that night. The memory is garbled under the lagoon of ale you must have drunk.

You drank a lot. You danced. Oh Gods. You danced on the stage.

Your eyes swing to the faded tapestries hanging above a small alcove. Astarion had dragged you off the stage when your provocative swaying earned the attention of too many ogling eyes for his comfort.

“You are a godsdamned delinquent, Illyria,” he’d purred in your ear while he ironed his body to you possessively, shielding you from the onlookers with a forearm pressed above your head. “I have half a mind to take you right here, enchantress, to show these fools you belong to me.”

A small table sits in the alcove with a single candle lit. A white rose rests on it, with a dainty silver chain wrapped around the verdant stem. Unwrapping it, you hold a locket in your hand. The edges are adorned with two exquisitely detailed dragons, one light silver and one dark, forming a heart. In the middle, a black diamond is held by the silver dragon, and a normal diamond is held by the dark one, creating a magnificent contrast.

Opening the clasp, your eyes anchor to a sketch you haven’t seen before. It’s not of the mortal woman you don’t remember. It’s of you, as you must appear now. Your eyes are the only thing in vivid colour, and your fangs peek out of your smiling lips. Even though the picture is small, it holds an impossible amount of detail.

The smooth metal of the back is engraved with Astarion’s nickname for you, Amarillis. It’s Elven, your mother tongue, for Flame-Flower.

Putting the locket on, you find another note nestled between the petals of the rose.

“Where the forgotten lay to rest under the celestial canopy, find the crimson-kissed stone where a single star shines alone.”  

If you know Astarion, he’s left another hint somewhere in plain sight, like the goblet. You scan your surroundings for anything that looks out of place, and you find an image hanging on the wall behind the stage that you don’t recall being there.

You recognize the statue, Balduran Looks Out to Sea, located in the Tumbledown district of the outer city. It’s not an area you’ve spent much time in. Astarion and you went to sit on the cliff and watch the sunrise the day before you went to kill or be killed by Cazador.

Now, you just need to get there without eating anyone.

Twilight is a tangible whisper, bruising the stretch of sky in purple and navy when you return to the streets. Alleys and paths are easiest for you to traverse, and sometimes you Misty Step and skate over the roofs when you feel bloodlust evaporating from your control.

At least Tumbledown is far less busy than the Lower City, thanks to the misty veil that never seems to disentangle from the town. The soft percussion of waves from the River Chionthar pulsing upon the cliffside is rhythmic as you walk up the quiet path leading to the statue.

You reread the note, “Where the forgotten lay.”

Cliffside Cemetery.

The large graveyard spreads before you, composed of a bafflingly complex network of headstones, tombs, and old mausoleums. You keep your eye out for anything red, which will appear brazenly against the drab background of the assorted greys and greens of the mossy tombstones.

The moonlight casts eerie shadows that stretch and disfigure the terrain. The stars ignite the velvet wreath of night as you finally come upon a headstone with a red rose draped over it.

The weather over the centuries has worn, stained, and cracked the stone. Crouching, you carefully wipe off the grime that dulls the worn epitaph.

“Astarion Ancunin,” it reads.

Rest Peacefully Beneath a Canopy of Stars.

Your fingers trace the jagged lines unconsciously as tears brim in your eyes, sinking to your knees.

“I have not returned since I punched a hole in my coffin and dug through six feet of dirt nearly 200 years ago.” Astarion’s voice floats from behind you.

Leaping to your feet, you whirl with more agility than you’ve ever possessed and thrust yourself into his arms. Astarion is dressed in clothing reminiscent of his camp clothes, leaving the typical opulence of the Vampire Ascendant behind.

“You are not forgotten, Astarion,” you whisper against his chest.

Astarion’s arms wrap around you. His timbre is angelic and deep, vibrating through your skin and massaging your spirit. “I was. For 200 years, I was a ghost stalking the streets while whoever I was, whoever I could have been, lay dead and buried."

Taking your hand, he walks toward his grave, letting his fingers coast over the roughened stone. “Cazador was waiting for me when I surfaced, hacking up dirt and congealed blood. I was his from that day forward. Even this grave is located on lands once owned by the Szarr family. Yet another nod to his ownership of me, I suppose.”

His finger taps the headstone, but he’s smiling when he turns to look at you—a real, genuine smile that fills your heart with warmth. “Then you fell like an angel from the heavens, quite literally, and waged war on everything I thought I knew about the world. You gave me something I had been without for centuries—hope.”

“I’m no angel,” you whisper.

“You’re my angel, Illyria,” he asserts. With Astarion’s attire and the way he’s speaking, which is so entirely familiar, there’s a shot of recognition that stirs your psyche. For the first time since you relearned it, your name is not an abstract word in your head. Astarion must feel it because he smiles broadly and continues, “No one cared, no one gave me a second look, and no Gods answered my prayers. No one is like you; you’re you. You stood with me through bloodlust, pain, and misery. You trusted me. You were patient. You cared. You were the only one who never gave up on me. You still haven’t given up on me, even though it’s an objectively stupid thing to do.”

“You were being very sweet until you called me stupid.” You giggle as he wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“Sweet and savoury, my dear,” he chuckles. “I’ve been free for over a year. Yet, I am just beginning to figure out who I am and what I truly want out of this newfound life.”

“What do you want, Astarion?” You lean into him. “The world is yours for the taking.”

“Not what,” he says, shaking his head, sliding an arm around your waist, and his fingers grazing over the locket on your neck. He smiles, “But you will have to finish this little quest to find the answers you seek.” He hands you another note and winks, “I’ll see you soon.”

Astarion gives you a small, playful shove and strides away with a smirk. He bows and shifts into an unnaturally large, white bat with crimson eyes you would recognize in a sea of them, soaring around you while you laugh.

“You’re adorable, but are you soft?” You ask.

He answers in your head with a lilting laugh, “Shall we find out?”

He lands, folding his wings and resting on his headstone, and cocks his head. Your fingers tremble, unfoundedly afraid you might hurt him, as they stroke down the alabaster fur.

“Soft and cute.”

“I aim to please,” he snickers, taking off to kiss the stars. “You are wasting time, my treasure.”

You giggle at his jeering and watch him streak through the sky, so beautifully free, before reading the note.

"Seek the shore’s embrace, where stars align, and ascend the steps, bathed in candlelight’s shine. There, seek the terrace above the riverside; a question to decide.” 

Shore’s embrace. Now, this you know well. When Astarion turned you he insisted on renting a villa with this name near the river in the Lower City.

The trek back to the Lower City somehow feels lengthier as nervousness hits you, ticking away in your chest, every beat of Astarion’s heart amplifying your anxiety as if the seconds were grains of sand slipping away, impossible to grasp.

You can’t entirely tell if it’s yours or his. With the bond open and uninhibited, you are entangled, a tapestry of threads entwined so seamlessly that it’s difficult to distinguish where one of you begins and the other ends.

If Astarion has figured out you’re hiding something, he’s given you no indication, but some part of you still wonders if you’re walking into a trap. It’s hard to control your thoughts so they do not transfer to him, which he’s been trying to teach you so that you can keep the bond open, but your private thoughts can remain your own.

It makes you wonder what thoughts he keeps from you.

You smell the aromatic perfume of roses before you round the corner. The villa hangs onto the wall and overlooks the River Chionthar. The silver waves sway and reflect the impending dawn’s early light, cradling the morning’s first blush. Candles light the steps covered in white and red rose petals. It almost feels wrong to step on something so wonderful.

The beat in your chest thrums with anticipation, like your extinct heartbeat has woken and risen from the grave as you ascend the staircase to the grand entrance. Your breath catches in your throat as you enter the foyer. The sparkling crystal chandelier is lit, casting scintillating rainbows across the room. Rosemary incense burns, filling the air with an aroma that reminds you of home—of Astarion.

You follow the scattered rose petals leading to the terrace as the golden crown of the sun crests the horizon. Fear typically follows such a sight, but you’re revelling in grandeur.

The heartbeat behind you is the only thing that alerts you to Astarion’s presence. The man seemingly appears out of thin air, but if you had that ability, you would take advantage of it too, you suppose.

“This is beautiful,” you say, and your words are abruptly cut off.

As your eyes fall on Astarion in his resplendent tailored suit, he descends to one knee. His crimson eyes meet yours, sparkling with a celestial constellation mirroring the infinity of his love. The newborn sun lights up the adoration in his features.

“Illyria, my love,” he begins in a soft whisper before your brain can catch up to what is happening. “You are the fire that lights up my darkness, a melody that soothes my troubled soul. After being with you, there is no doubt that I have touched the heavens.” He hesitates momentarily, and the bond surges with warmth, longing, devotion, and good Gods, love, “I love you, and I fall more in love with you every day. I do not know what tomorrow brings, but right now, with you, the world feels right.”

His hand reaches into his pocket and produces a small, velvet box. Lifting the lid, the quick breaths you didn’t realize you'd been taking catch in your throat as your eyes fall on an exquisite ring, nestled on a bed of crimson silk, intricately crafted with a dragon claw, clutching a heart-shaped diamond to match the locket.

Astarion’s warm caramel baritone holds the sweet promise of eternity: “Will you marry me?”

Your hand shoots to your mouth to stifle the sound that erupts from your throat, somewhere between a whimper and a squeak. Your knees fold, unable to hold your weight any longer, and you drop, folding your arms around his neck and draping yourself over him.

His hand comes to your back, and he kisses your cheek. “Is this happy crying, or have I made a grave miscalculation?”

“Happy crying,” you stutter through shaky breaths.

He chuckles, nuzzling you. “Is this a yes?”

“Yes!” You pull back, nodding in case he cannot understand you through your weeping. “But I need one thing from you."

"Ask, and I shall make it yours,” he purrs.

You cradle his cheek, sweeping your thumb across it. “Say it again.”

He smirks, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I love you.”

“One more time,” you choke out.

“Gods above,” he giggles. “Is this all you will have me say now?”

You smile, the tips of your fangs peeking from your lips. “It sounds very good in your mouth.”

“You know I do not repeat myself for anyone,” he taunts. “Anyone but you, my love.” Astarion takes your hand, slipping the ring onto your finger, looking deeply into your eyes. “I love you, Illyria, my wife, my everything.”

“I love you, too, Astarion, my husband, my shining star.”

He beams, “I do rather like that, you know,” he muses. “When you call me husband.”

His arm wraps around your waist, easing you to your feet. You clutch onto him to keep yourself upright as your knees wobble like a newborn fawn and try to watch the sunrise with your head on his chest, but your eyes keep drifting to the ring adorning your finger, reminding yourself that this did, in fact, just happen.

“Do you like it?” He murmurs, catching your eyes moored to it.

“I love it,” you whisper. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I should hope not,” he chuckles. “I designed it. No one will ever have anything similar.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh, you know me,” he shrugs. “I killed the jeweller to make sure he could never replicate it.”

Your head snaps up, wide-eyed, to look at him. He glances at you and bursts into laughter. “A jest, sweetheart.”

“I hope you at least compelled him to forget it,” you snicker. “Or I may have to drain anyone I see with anything similar.”

“Oh,” he giggles. “I do so adore it when you’re murderous. Speaking of draining someone, I’ve had you running around the city all night. You must be positively famished.”

“You fed me,” you say, arching a brow at him. “Lucky for the citizens of the Lower City. Some of them smell very tasty.”

Astarion’s hands find the back of your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you. “Not as tasty as me, I hope.”

“No one could ever be as tasty as you,” you purr. “Your blood is nearly as charming as you are.”

He chuckles, taking you into the villa and setting you on the lofty mattress. “Well, who am I to deny your hunger? I would not be a very good husband if I did not keep my lovely wife satisfied. Would I?”

“What are you saying exactly?” You sweep your fingers through his hair as he undoes the elaborate clasps of his suit jacket. He discards it and loosens the collar of his shirt. You quirk your head at him. “Speak plainly.”

“I want you to bite me,” he purrs, pushing your legs to part for him with his knee and leaning over you. His lips mould to yours in a reverential kiss as his hands wander your body and ignite your desire.

“Bite you?” You breathe. “You said I couldn’t.”

“No.” Astarion removes his shirt, and your palms skim over his chest. “I said you can’t unless I permit you. You are as close to a True Vampire as you can get, my consort. It will not change you.”

“I don’t want to change,” you murmur, your fingers pressing firmly into his sculpted muscles. The offer of blood is tempting your hunger. “You’re giving me permission?”

He smirks, “Go on then. I’ll allow it.”

“Where?” Astarion cranes his neck to the side in an invitation. It takes everything you have not to leap for that magnificently pulsing vein. “Your neck?”

“Is there something wrong with my neck, my dear?”

“No. Of course not,” you giggle. “You have a very lovely neck. This is just new, that’s all. I didn’t think you would want to be, uh, well, bitten.”

“Your bite, my sweet,” he purrs, pressing his chest against yours and pinning you between him and the mattress. “Is divine. Only you will ever get the great honour of biting the Vampire Ascendant.”

“I godsdamned better be!” You huff, “I don’t share, Astarion. Not your body, not your blood, and definitely not your heart. You are mine and only mine. ”

He giggles, “Possessive little thing. Aren’t you? Not to worry, my love. I do not intend to share. I am yours. Wholly, and completely yours.”

You trace your lips down the shell of his ear. Your heart frolics at the ardent shudder that courses through his body and how the breath hitches in his throat. Kissing his neck until you feel the vein pulsing against your lips, you wait until he whispers his shaky, anticipatory approval.

The razor-sharp points of your fangs kiss his skin, and you wait for your body to seize up, but it doesn’t. You bite quick and sure, trying your best to be gentle. You feel the pop of your fangs puncturing his skin. His blood erupts into your mouth, caressing your tongue with heavenly heat that cascades through the channels of your veins and nestles between your thighs. You drink from him slowly but deeply, and your body trembles.

Astarion groans, deep and rich, his hot breath fanning the cool skin of your neck, and you feel the icy pinch of his fangs sink into you. You wash through him, and he passes through you in a paradisiacal torrent. The pleasure that harmonizes over the bond is transcendent. You swear you could come undone for this alone, and you ease your fangs from his neck and moan.

He kisses you with a bruising intensity. His tongue parts your lips so you can taste the essence of each other, and he bucks his hips into your aching sex, sending you spiralling into that frisson of pure delirium.

The clothes on your body feel much too restricting, and you whimper. The barrier of fabric between you feels unbearable. Astarion’s fingers go to his trousers, but his usual adroitness is nowhere to be seen as his fingers fumble with the laces.

He stares at his fingers dumbfounded for a moment and then looks at you with an arched brow and giggles gleefully, “Do you by any chance feel absurdly intoxicated?”

You writhe on the bed, unable to contain your ardent lust, as your brain awkwardly processes his question.

“Entirely,” you laugh. Gods. You thought you were high on him last time, but you are almost senseless in your need. You’re not even sure if you’re walking on the planes of reality or in some delightful hallucination, and you cannot find it within you to care. “Is this not normal?”

Astarion throws his trousers to the side, rucks up your dress clumsily, and tosses it away. “I’m not entirely sure. I may have read something about it, but I cannot quite remember where or when.” He shrugs. “We will have to experiment.”

Precum glistens, dripping from the head of his swollen cock. You are overcome with the absolute need for his salty, heady taste on your tongue. You lunge at him, bowling him over. Your movements are somehow swift and equally ungainly.

You lick up his shaft with a long, broad tongue stroke, feeling the ridges of his distended veins, before you engulf him in the wet heat of your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the blunt head of his cock. He sucks in sharp, shuddering breaths, fingers in your hair as you worship him, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, taking him deeper and deeper until his cock tickles the back of your throat.

“Illyria,” he moans breathlessly. “Hells. You’ve got to stop before I lose my composure.”

But you’re not entirely sure you could stop, even if you wanted to. No. You want to feel his cock twitching on your tongue and his seed shooting into your throat. You want to drink his essence like a fine wine.

“Illyria,” he warns, trembling fingers curling into your hair. You feel the telltale pulse, hear the way his breath becomes ragged and uneven, and you take him over the edge in a few bobs of your head. He cries out, your name a sweet litany in his voice.

His seed bursts into your mouth, and you moan at the salt of him, swallowing every drop he gives you like a thirsty traveller. He is candied like heaven, wicked like hell, and, oh, so fucking delicious.

He pulls your head back by your hair and stares at you like he has found an oasis in an arid desert. You lick your swollen, red lips, determined to get every last drop of him that you can.

“Bad girl,” he purrs, shoving you flat on your back and pressing his lips to yours. He explores your mouth. “I taste exultant on your tongue.”

His fingers run through the seam of your dripping folds, coating them in the sleek of your arousal and easing into your fluttering channel. Astarion presses the pads firmly into that sweet spot inside that blinds you with pleasure, the heel of his palm caressing your clit with mind-numbing friction.

It does not take him long to settle into a rhythm that throws you somersaulting over the cusp of your own release with a lewd, wild cry, and he does not stop until he’s lured every possible shockwave from your body.

Astarion grabs your waist, tugging you down the bed as he settles between your thighs, sliding his length through your folds, his head teasing your overstimulated pearl. He guides himself into you, working your sex open inch by inch as you stretch to accommodate his girth.

Where everything before this was wild, almost savage, and borderline uncivilized, this is slow, passionate, and unhurried. He rocks his hips in languid pumps, coming to his forearm with his forehead pressed against yours. He is not fucking you. He is making love to you.

“You are mine,” he rasps through shaky gasps. It is not a proclamation of his ownership of you. It is not a command. It’s more of a plea for reassurance. “Yes?”

“Yours,” you confirm breathlessly, your eyes squeezed closed in pure rapture as he massages every one of your ridges poetically. Your fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck, and you cling to him as if you might float away on this cloud. “I’ve always been yours.”

“Gods. I love you,” he shudders between uneven breaths.

You will never tire of hearing those words, tasting them as they hinge off his tongue, and feeling them as they dally over the bond.

You clench around him, expelling a sighing groan from his mouth that you catch on your lips, determined to taste his ecstasy. His arm folds around your waist, forcing you to arch into him with his other hand at the back of your head. Astarion changes the angle of his thrusts but keeps the easy tempo. The blunt head of his cock waves over the sensitive pad of nerves inside you with every roll of his hips, and his groin grinds against your needy clit.

Astarion purposefully brings you close to your climax and then eases you away from it until you’re a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to take this withholding any longer. From his taut muscles and the way Astarion shakes, you know he cannot either. “Gods.”

“Open your eyes and come with me, my love.” Astarion increases the sensual pace rhythmically. The building pleasure pools in your abdomen, coiling tighter and tighter with every snap of his hips.

You open your eyes, blinking away the daze of passion, and cradle his cheek as he gazes at you affectionately. You’ve never seen his eyes so vividly crimson, as if his love for you itself was shining through the scarlet depths.

He knows the moment you begin to tread the fine edge of euphoria, gripping his girth and begging him to flood you with his pleasure. You shatter, spasms and white-hot pleasure ripping through you so intensely that the candles in the room go out and reignite with every contraction of your walls.

“F-fuck,” he moans loudly, a roll of purring thunder echoing in his chest. With one last pump, Astarion tremors, cock pulsing, and spilling into you. His hips stutter, pulsing deeply within you with every twitch of his cock.

He pushes the sweaty strands of hair from your face as you both struggle to catch your breath. You may never get used to his new speedy movements because, before you even realize you’re moving, he’s rolled you so that your limp body blankets his.

His fingers caress up and down the valley of your spine as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, heaving a sigh of pure happiness while you are once again captivated by the ring wreathing your finger.

Astarion kisses your palm, placing it on his chest, and plays with the ring on your finger. “Will you tell your friends?”

“Our friends,” you correct, even though many don’t fancy him. “Of course. I am not ashamed.”

Astarion nods with a lopsided grin. “Even Gale?”

“Especially Gale,” you giggle.

“I simply must be there when you do,” he snickers. “The look on his face is sure to be exquisite.”

“I am positive he will have choice words for me,” you laugh.

Astarion bristles, “He best watch his words when I am near. I will not tolerate him speaking down to you.”

“Easy, Ascendant,” you tut, clicking your tongue at him. “I am capable of dealing with Gale and his words. I am not a maiden in need of saving.”

Astarion relaxes, chuckling, “A maiden you most certainly are not. I am going to have to field noise complaints.”

You pat his chest, smirking, “All in a day’s work, husband. Our neighbours are going to hate us.”

“We will simply purchase all the houses in the neighbourhood if they become too bothersome,” Astarion chimes, jostling you. “Think of all the places I could make you scream for me.”

You both break into laughter together, still immersed in the intoxication of each other’s blood.

But your bliss doesn’t last long as reality grips its claws into your rapture and bleeds it dry.

You cannot possibly continue to keep what you know for him. How can you expect your love to thrive where secrets sleep? He has to know he can trust you to be honest with him, even when that honesty frightens you. You would want him to tell you if the roles were reversed.

Guilt and fear tangle together and ball in your throat. Astarion jolts at the sudden change in your mood as it resonates over the union, sinking into him as if it were his own. His brows furrow and his eyes dart around aimlessly as he tries to understand the trouble he feels.

“What is wrong, little love?” He coos, taking your hand in his. You can feel his anxiety and the quickened pace of his heart in his palm. “You are frightened. You needn’t be afraid. I am getting better at controlling it. You can tell me anything.”

You steel yourself against the panic. His. Yours. Your combined dread.

You swallow and force the words out of your mouth. “I know what ails you.”

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. Your support gives me the motivation to keep this fic going, and I appreciate each of you!

As always, please enjoy.

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

-We finally got Astarion to say he loves her, multiple times, and a lot more than that. ❤️💍

How is he going to react when she finally comes clean? 🫣

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #ascendant astarion #soft ascended astarion #named tav #bg3 fic #astarion x oc #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #fangs and fractured hearts

[gardnhee]

bite me - P.SH

♰ warnings. blood sucking, cursing, very suggestive, vampire sunghoon (yum), yn is obsessed with his fangs, sunghoon gets realllll whiney later on, use of “doll”, reader is lwk weird, intentional lower case, switch!reader, switch!sunghoon- lmk if i missed anything !

♰ vampire!sunghoon x afab!reader

♰ song rec. bite me - enhypen

♰ wc. 3.1k

the soft patter of rain on your window makes you sigh as you sit in bed, skillfully reading a book. with a soft smile, you flip the page, snuggling into the blankets as your back rests against the headboard.

you eye the moon, a cool contrast to the dim light emanating from your lamp. with a low hum, you close the book, setting it on your nightstand as you yawn.

you stretch and groan, eyes snapping to the door after hearing a faint thump outside.

what the fuck?

in a matter of seconds, you’re standing in front of said door, shaky hand hovering over the knob. you jerk back after a louder thud echoes throughout your apartment. frantically looking around, you scramble to grab something. anything.

you somehow end up with scissors, eyebrows knitting together as you stare at the sharp object; this will do, you shrug in acceptance. another sound abruptly stops your train of thought, determined eyes now glaring at the door. in a swift motion, you swing it open, scanning the cozy apartment.

are those…scratching sounds?

you try to adjust to the darkness as you walk through your living room, fingers wrapped tightly around the scissor handle, metal tip facing up.

you realized that the more you walked, the more anxious you became, so you opted to close your eyes and stand still, pin-pointing exactly where the sound was coming from, something the shuffling of your slippers wouldn’t allow before.

you open your eye, slowly opening the other as you turn to the balcony, tip-toeing to the door. “so this is where the scratching is coming from?” you mutter, depositing the scissors on the table to your right. you slide your index finger and thumb through the blinds, only to be met with…nothing. there was absolutely nothing outside.

you tsk, annoyed now that you realize you left your comfort for no fundamental reason. before you could make your way back to the bedroom, faint scratching caught your attention again, making you stop dead in your tracks.

you muster up the courage, huffing as you finally open the balcony door, cold wind smacking you in the face. you continue to glance along the floor, eyes widening when you make eye contact with…a bat. a fucking bat.

its fur was jet black, wings neatly tucked into its body as it seemed to be shaking, blinking up at you so innocently. you weren’t exactly scared, in fact, you thought it was cute. you tilt your head down at it, smiling softly.

“what’re you doin’ out here in the cold? you’re so cute!” you kneel down, falling back as black smoke engulfs the small mammal.

“what the-?”

are those … shoes? pants?

where did the bat go?- “oh my god!” you scream, reaching for the door with urgency and slamming it shut, taking several steps back as you bump against the counter.

that…that was a man. a man standing in your balcony. “holy hell..” you breathed, one hand on your chest and the other tangled in your hair. if you weren’t afraid before, you definitely are now.

“excuse me?” a deep voice rang in your ears, making you flinch, hand flying up to your mouth.

“please let me in…it’s cold.”

“who - what - the hell…are you!” you exclaim, staring at the tall silhouette that reflected against your blinds, gulping as cold sweat made its way down your forehead.

“my name is park sunghoon. now please let me in, i’m freezing.”

“no, go away!”

“just…for tonight. i promise i won't hurt you.” the voice on the other end implored. you saw as he rubbed his arms, possibly to get rid of the chills. you weighed your options, biting your lip as you fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“i don’t know i…” you felt bad, yet letting a random man into your house was against everything you believed in.

you sighed in disbelief, walking over to the door and cracking it open. you nearly gasped; he was handsome. very, very, handsome. you couldn’t fathom it.

sunghoon cleared his throat, his deep red eyes staring you down. “may i come in?” he rumbles in a low, drool-inducing tone.

“i…yes, of course, come in. sorry-!” you stumble over your words, chuckling in both hesitance and nervousness.

you move aside, inviting him in with a warm smile, one that wasn’t reciprocated - let alone acknowledged. you squint skeptically, locking the door to prevent the cold breeze from fully storming your apartment.

“there’s no point in being skeptical now, i’m already in your house.” he says matter of factly, studying his surroundings with his hands behind his back.

your eyes widened.

what?

sunghoon chuckled, “hey, calm down. i promised i wouldn’t hurt you, didn't i?” he says, finally turning to you.

“i intend to keep my promise.”

you gulp, smiling awkwardly as you nod. he grabs the corners of his collar, looking at you before continuing, “may i get comfortable?” once again, you nod, standing there like a statue, lips pursed.

sunghoon takes off his suit, hanging it on a nearby coat hanger you had conveniently placed in a corner.

“why are you here? i mean…why my apartment?” you blurt, taking the stoic individual aback.

“well, i was flying-“ his eyes travel to you as you give him a blank stare, registering what’s currently unfolding before you.

“you’re a fucking-!” realization crashed into you like a wave.

“vampire. yes.” sunghoon nods, untying his corset, or at least attempting to.

you peer at him, long nails struggling against the knots as he grunts, another prominent lump forming in your throat.

“anyway, i was flying and as you can see…” he juts his chin towards your living room window, emphasizing his point, “the storm knocked me into your balcony.” you nod, letting him know you’re listening.

“and so i thought, ‘hey, why not wait till the rain dies down?’” sunghoon nods to himself, “sorry if i’ve bothered you.” he sheepishly chuckles, bowing momentarily.

“no no! it’s no problem really!…” you wave your hands in a frenzy, shaking your head violently as you beam.

fuck handsome, this man is absolutely mouthwatering. fangs poking into plush lips, charcoal black hair a stark contrast to his pale skin, illuminating under the moonlit night.

“excuse me?”

“yes! sorry.” you focus back on his face.

sunghoon smiles, “you mind?” he walks to you, back now facing your astonished face.

“sure but…” you took a sly look over his shoulder, staring at the side of his face. he raised a brow, head tilting slightly, “never untied a corset before?” you bite your lip, gazing down at the corset.

“it’s okay, i’ll show you.” sunghoon grabs your hands with his cold ones, making you yelp.

“sorry, can’t really help it…”

“it’s okay. no worries.” you gape at his back muscles, the way they move under his white clad shirt…if only you could just take a bite-

“so then you loop your fingers through this part right here,” instructed sunghoon, tapping the knot; you obediently followed his orders. “good, good. now, simultaneously keep doing that until the corset comes loose,” he pauses, standing straight, “you might have to pull a little, okay?” you utter a small ‘yes,’ concentration written all over your face.

“thank you.” corset now in his hand, he moves with it to your living room, placing it on the sofa as he grazes the soft fabric.

“that’s a sofa.” you inform as you see your way to him.

“i know.” sunghoon sighs, “i was human before becoming a vampire, you know?” he peeks at you, picking up on your engrossed look.

“i was bitten,” he sits, “unfortunately.”

“‘unfortunately’?” you echo, sitting beside him, “why is that?” your gaze softens, holding his fiery eyes.

“eternal youth, immortality…none of that is always good. i mean, i have to drink human blood in order to live.” sunghoon plops back into the soft cushion, hair messy from all the moving around.

“that doesn’t sound too bad, though.”

he smiles, “you don’t know half of it.”

you shrug, sitting back. “how old are you?” you ask as sunghoon’s eyes are glued to the ceiling, hand softly caressing his forehead.

“let’s see…” he whispers, counting with his slim fingers. “200…400…430 years old.” you choke, back straightening as the words processed in your mind.

“FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY FUCKING YEARS?!”

sunghoon bursts out laughing, “are you always cursing?” you blush, embarrassed at your sudden outburst.

“you should go to bed…” he dips his head to the side, regarding you in a quizzical manner; an unspoken question.

“yn.” you snicker, “yn ln.”

he bobs his head, “yn ln.” he repeats, sultry tone almost luring you to sleep.

“if you can’t sleep, there’s the tv!” you point to a little coffee table, “the remote is right there.” sunghoon nods, giving you a small smile before you walked off to your room.

you basically jump on your bed, quickly getting under the covers as you stare outside the window. you turn off the lamp, sighing as you close your eyes.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

the room was pitch black, a sliver of light peeked through the curtains. you frowned, you don’t remember drawing the curtains?

you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your ears perk up. “what is up with these sounds tonight?” you murmur, groggily making your way to the door.

the sofa was empty and you couldn’t see much, but you could definitely hear, and what you heard made you cringe.

a series of slurps and munching sounds invaded your surroundings. you sniffed, blood? perhaps meat? an exasperated gasp clawed its way out of your throat once it dawned on you.

“s-sunghoon?”

the slurping stops, so do you. the only thing obstructing your view was the kitchen counter, and honestly, you wish you’d never have to peer over it.

the pungent smell of blood made you dizzy. your hand gripped the hard surface, stomach churning in a way that’s physically impossible to ignore.

“yn?” his voice was ragged, breathless as his glistening chest heaved. the once impeccably white shirt was now stained, deep red streaks scattered throughout, greedily seeping into every piece of fabric it reached.

“what are you…?” you whisper, eyes wide as you step back. the anxious vampire was no longer coy, displaying a look of worry on his bloody face.

“i’m sorry i…” sunghoon huffed, attempting to wipe his hands on his pants, “i got hungry and i didn’t want to hurt you so i settled on animal blood..” you notice his fangs. maybe it was the dim light, or lack thereof, playing tricks on you, but they look…longer? sharper? you couldn’t quite tell, yet it…piqued your interest.

“is that blood enough?”

sunghoon shrugs, “if i drink enough, maybe i’ll be satisfied.” you tilt your head in utter fascination

“‘maybe’? don’t you want to…” you reveal more of your neck, his eyes flickered.

“no i…are you sure?”

you nodded, body speaking before your brain can string a full sentence together. your emotions changed almost immediately, you weren’t terrified, you were…aroused. you’ve always had a sick obsession with sharp objects…but this… you needed to feel them sink into your skin immediately.

you watched as his eyes glowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. impatient as you were, you grabbed his red hands, pulling his slim figure to you.

“why?” he asks, eyeing your neck, specifically a vein. so juicy…you smelled so good…fuck.

“i want to feel them…” you brazenly admit. sunghoon blinks, blood now dripping from his chin and onto his exposed chest.

“you’re at risk of turning…”

“that’s okay.”

“yn you don’t know what-“

“just…do it.” you strain, “i’m helping you.” you tuck your hair away from your neck, giving the hesitant vampire enough access.

what are you doing?? you have no idea. this might be the last night of your life as human, but honestly… that doesn’t sound like a problem….at least to you.

sunghoon nods, gulping as he moves his mouth closer, opening as wide as he can. you nearly fall back, screaming at the pain that flourished from your neck. he wraps his arms around your waist, eliminating the gap between your bodies.

his eyes close in ecstasy, brows scrunched as your sweet blood made contact with his tongue. sunghoon whines, making incoherent sounds as he squeezes you. he’s so…touchy…you’d never expect this from him.

“fuck…sunghoon…” you wince, balling a part of his shirt into your fists, “fuck!” if it weren’t for his strong arms, you’d be on the ground by now. you feel his hands snake down your body, surprising you as he hooks them under your thighs, sitting you on one of the seats under the counter.

his fangs were still penetrating your fragile skin, you started to feel lightheaded, losing consciousness by the second. before you knew it, everything went black, only the sting that is now faintly there and the scattered blue dots that resided behind your eyelids remain.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

“yn…wake up.” your eyes snap open, a sharp breath escaping your lips. you look around in a hurry, not noticing the man before you.

you run to the bathroom, flicking the light on as you stare at your neck in the mirror. “huh?” there’s a patch covering what you assumed were two red dots. bite marks...what did you get yourself into? you flinch as sunghoon appears behind you.

“holy shit. how did you-!“ you yell, turning your body to face him.

“teleportation?” he states, raising a brow at you, “it’s common knowledge…i mean, you would know…” sunghoon sing-sings as he pulls out a book.

the book that was on your nightstand…he has it in his hand.

“what the hell! give it back!”

“let’s see…’he caressed my back as his teeth slowly sink into my skin’…” you try to reach for the book, to no avail as he’s - by far - much taller than you, “is this why you offered to-?” he questions with amusement.

“no!!!!” you cross your arms, “i felt bad because you looked starved.” he answers with a stretched ‘mmmhm,’ squinting his eyes as if he can see right through you.

you walk out, sunghoon following suit. “does it still hurt?” he questions, situating the book down and walking back to you. his pale fingers come up to softly brush the patch, a red dot soaking through the fabric. “no, i can’t feel it actually…” his eyes shoot up, distress oozing from them.

“what?” sunghoon hastily takes off the patch, eyes hysterically looking for something. “open your mouth.” you grimace, confusion striking your features as you comply. he feels around your top and bottom teeth, you protest as his digits feel cold in your mouth. “fuat iz it?” you manage, capturing his wrists.

“your fangs are growing in.” sunghoon steps back, wiping the excess saliva on his pants. he sits on the bed, “you’re turning into a vampire, yn.” you gleam, catching him off guard. “most people would be on the floor crying…” he announces, more to himself than to you.

“let me see your wrist.” he flips your palm upward. there was a mark. a small cross.

“what’s that?”

“‘what’s that’? isn’t this in your vampire books?”

you pout, snatching your wrist away from his grip. “you’re not funny.”

“i think i'm hilarious.” he retorts. with a scoff, you sit next to him, the soft surface denting a little more.

“it’s a marking.”

“a marking?”

“like how werewolves mark their mate…or how incubi choose their wives and make them succubi, it’s a similar process without the sex part.”

“i’m your mate?!” he nods, “in other words, you’re my wife.” you jump, unable to wrap your head around his words.

“how does that… happen?”

sunghoon stands and steps in front of you, “usually happens when there’s an attraction between a vampire and human.” he smirks at you, “you enjoyed it, didn’t you?” he taunts, making you quiver to your very core.

he continues, “i’m going to assume yes considering all those smutty books you read about vampires.” he taps his chin playfully, “didn’t know you were so fascinated with my kind.” sunghoon audibly laughs as you slap his arm.

“do you want me to lie…?” you embarrassingly turn your head, eyes sparkling.

he shakes his head, “no, no. i want you to say it to my face.” sunghoon gently grabs your chin, bending down to be at eye level with you.

“you’re attracted to me, aren’t you?” he places his hands on your lap as you nod, sunghoon smiles.

“to be frank i…i took a liking to you the moment you let me step foot in here.” he stares at you, “i tried my hardest not to acknowledge you at first, but it just…i couldn’t. i was - am - drawn to you…” you blink, cheeks heating up and heart hammering against your chest.

“you’re just so…” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, basking in your beauty. “so utterly beautiful…” you grab his collar, smashing your lips into his. sunghoon whines in surprise, moaning when you straddle him. “you’re…you’re sitting on it…be careful” he bites his lips, pouting as you smirk, planting yourself harder on his semi hard cock.

“you just met me, and you’re already hard for me?” your smirk grows wider, and you bend down to kiss him once again. his hands fly to your hips, stifling your surprised whimper.

“that’s rich coming from someone who gets aroused by my fangs being in their neck.” sunghoon says as you pull away, leaving you open-mouthed.

“you didn’t think i could smell it? i’m a vampire, doll.” you shriek at the pet name, his divine hand cupping your now sopping cunt. “you’re so wet i can feel it through these skimpy ass shorts.”

he smirks up at you, “not so bold now, huh?”

“i-“

“shut the fuck up.” he growls, turning you over so that now he’s on top of you, “do you know how hard i’ve been trying to restrict myself? it’s so hard when you’re such a slut, wearing pajamas that leave little to the imagination.” he grabs the waistband of your shorts, letting it slap against your skin as you moan, growing even more impatient. sunghoon’s voice grew husky, lips glistening and angry red from all the making out.

his hair is disheveled, shirt hanging loosely around his shoulders. you grab his nape, moving to his neck. leaving a trail of wet kisses, he moans lowly. you harshly suck and bite his collarbone, enticing a small ‘ah’ from sunghoon.

you place your mouth by his ear, warm breath hitting his lobe as he shudders. “you say i’m a whore? fine. i’m going to fuck you until you can’t talk anymore. until the only thing on your mind is my pussy wrapping around your dick.”

sunghoon nods, “yes baby, please.” his eyes filled with desire, leaving any and all trace of critical thinking behind. with each touch and whimper, the tension builds until the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your shared passion, fulfilling every promise of pleasure made in the heat of the moment.

© GARDNHEE 2024, do not copy, modify, or upload on other platforms

♰ note. i love cockblocking yall :3 i promise a full smut fic is on the way!! also please like, comment, n reblog!! would be highly appreciated 🫶🫶

♰ huge thanks to my proofreader @heartryuu , i love you bae 🤍🤍.

♰ taglist. @lovlyrickyyy @strawbvrrie @stvrliighttt (lmk if u want to be added!)

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